“Amen.” The sheriff laughed.

The pastor stifled a laugh, but I heard it.

I didn’t appreciate their responses. “None of this is funny.”

Her eyes stared into mine. “Help me stop Marissa.”

“What makes you think she won’t kill you anyway? Mike believes she’s a sociopath. Can’t be trusted.”

“I know how to play into her narcissism and warped conscience,” she said. “Without me, she wouldn’t have anything.”

“But that changed when she took off to Phoenix.”

“It’s a gamble worth taking. My role is to convince her I learned enough in prison to help her now. I claimed faith and kept my nose clean to appease the parole board. For a little leverage, I could threaten to take what I know to the FBI.”

“She’ll get you alone and blow a hole right through you.”

“Marissa is greedy.” She lifted her shoulders. “For too long I refused to believe her sweet temperament could possibly be woven with manipulation. The truth is, I let her blindside me.”

“You won’t be alone in your pursuit.” Shelby held my heart in the palm of her hand. “I’ll do all I can to get others on board to help.” I rarely changed my mind, but she’d turned my life upside down. “Call your sister.”

She grabbed her burner phone and pressed in numbers. “Hey, Sis, this is Shelby. We need to talk. Life’s gotten harder to manage. Denton, the sheriff, and the pastor who’s doing my counseling ganged up on me, accused me of embezzling the money. Call me back as soon as possible. Denton told me the FBI has evidence about your illegal activities and aliases. I don’t want to go into why you or Eli Chandler have targeted me, but it’s little sister’s turn for a piece of the pie.”

I hadn’t fallen in love with a woman who had a shameful past . . . I’d fallen in love with a martyr.

61

Shelby’s words cemented the contract on her life. But she’d been on a hit list for years.

She stood. “I’m making a pot of coffee and putting together sandwiches. Blueberry scones are not brain food. Besides, Marissa won’t call right away. She wants me to turn on anxious mode and worry about it all.”

“Because of your experiences with her in the past?” I said.

“Yes. My call will shock her since we talked face-to-face before Mom died. Game time. It’s her move.” She focused on Pastor Emory. “Your family, this community, needs you. Go home and fight my battle on your knees.”

I admired Shelby’s decision to take control, even if I feared for her life. “She’s right. If this goes south, the truth will hold court. I believe it was Aristotle who wrote, ‘As often as we do good, we offer sacrifice to God.’”

“Which is exactly why Pastor Emory needs to leave.” Shelby’s tone morphed into her stubborn mode.

“Sheriff, what’s your choice?” I said.

“I agree. My great-granddad was this town’s first sheriff. The Wendalls don’t back down from any fight. I’m not a prayin’ man, but I don’t discount a God who helps right wrongs.”