After a moment, DeMarco said, “It was the warning that brought us here.”

“But Finn called Bishop later that same day. Asking for help, because of the Blackwood elder’s farseeing. That was going to happen, him asking Bishop for help, because the farseeing had happened. Maybe Finn wouldn’t have had quite the urgency, maybe we wouldn’t have, but Bishop wouldn’t have said no. Some of us, if not all of us, still would have come.”

“Agreed. And Daniel might have heard about the farseeing, might have known or deduced that Finn would ask Bishop for help, because he had once before.”

“Makes sense.” She brooded for a moment. “So, did he just want to make sure we came? Why? All that so-called warning in the gray time really did was . . . spook Diana and me. Convince us the threat was real, and awful.” Slowly, she added, “Convince us that the threat was from a serial killer, out to destroy the Five. No other rhyme or reason.”

“Convinced you that the victims were only that. Members of the Five.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her partner. “Maybe that was the distraction all along. From the very beginning, even before we came here. What he didn’t want us to look at, to pay too much attention to. Megan. Personal ties and motivations. The longer we were focused on the idea of a serial killer, the longer it would take us to look at those victims for personal ties.”

“Maybe.” DeMarco nodded slowly, then looked at the neat little church, so quiet on a Thursday morning. “And we’re at this church because?”

“The family goes here. Danny Dryden’s family. And—because the crows want us here. To talk to the pastor about Danny Dryden and his family.”

“Okay,” DeMarco said. “Let’s go see the pastor.”

TWENTY

As soon as Hollis set eyes on the Reverend Joshua Matthews she was nagged by a vague familiarity. He was past middle age, a tall, thin man with a shock of silver hair and gentle brown eyes, and didn’t look . . . substantial enough . . . to host the customary deep, booming voice of a Southern Baptist preacher.

“Danny Dryden’s family?” He looked from Hollis to DeMarco. “He isn’t a suspect in these terrible killings, is he?”

Hollis smiled at him. “His name came up in our investigation, Reverend, and we have to cover all our bases. He and his family attend your church?”

“His mother and grandmother do. As long as I’ve been here. But I don’t know that I can tell you anything.”

“Danny doesn’t attend?”

“Well, not regularly, not since he was a child. He’s one of my holiday members. He comes Christmas and Easter, and that’s about it. Not terribly uncommon, especially among the younger members. Not that he’s as young as all that. He must be past thirty by now.”

“He’s not married?”

“No.”

Hollis tilted her head slightly as she gazed at the preacher. “Girlfriend?”

“I really couldn’t say, Agent. Although—”