When Greg and Cynthia had checked in at the hotel, Cyn­thia had offered her credit card. Greg appreciated the fact that she was willing to pay, but insisted on using his card since she was not supposed to be traveling outside Coreyville, and she could be tracked by her credit card use. Although, he doubted the Coreyville police were that sophisticated. Besides, why would they be tracking her if they had no reason to think she had left town?

Maybe he should have let her pay. Greg used his debit card for everything—he didn’t even have a credit card. And his account balance was getting low.

They were both feeling stressed out. Cynthia had suggested they go to a nice restaurant for a relaxing dinner. Greg said he knew a great place to kick back, have fun, and talk.

They were approaching the entrance when a man in his mid-thirties in an expensive suit walked out with a very young woman. Greg wondered if she was even 18.

Cynthia was certain the girl was a hooker. Why else would she be dressed like that?

Buford was so busy rubbing up against his new blonde that he didn’t even notice Greg and Cynthia. He had never met either of them, but he had seen plenty of pictures. Marty had sent him some sexy shots of Cynthia, taken through a slight opening between her bathroom curtains. Buford would have definitely noticed, and recognized her. Especially if she had come to the restaurant wearing only underwear. At least Marty had done something that pleased Buford.

The last time Greg had been to the Hard Rock Cafe in Dal­las, he was still married to his ex. The marriage had been all but over. So, he had not been able to fully enjoy the experi­ence. This time he would—if he could just forget about a few things for an hour or so. The hope of keeping his church job and retaining his private music students was fading fast. He and Cynthia could be murdered at any time. And Cynthia might even be a murderer. But if he could keep all of that out of his mind for a while, maybe he could enjoy the dining experience.

Greg could not help but wonder what the waitress thought when she was taking their order. What was this woman of supermodel beauty doing with this below-average-looking guy? He must be just a friend, or brother, or a business associ­ate. This couldn’t be a date.

Cynthia ordered the Tuscan Chicken salad. Greg opted for the bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. He had been trying to watch his diet—but not tonight.

“You know what? I changed my mind. Give me exactly the same thing he’s having.”

After the waitress had walked away, Cynthia said, “I don’t usually pig-out, Greg.”

“That goes without saying. Look at you.”

His muscles began to relax to the sound of Chuck Berry’s Johnny B. Goode. Then Cynthia brought him back to the pre­sent when she said, “You don’t think the killer followed us over here, do you?”

“No, I doubt it,” he said while looking around the room.

“Good. Let’s not talk about that for a while, okay? I want to know more about you. How did you end up in Coreyville?”

“Well, let’s see…I’d been serving as full-time minister of music at Bethany Baptist Church in Longview for three years, and had developed a nice sized music program. We had choirs for children, youth, college students, adults, and even senior adults. And we had several handbell choirs and a small orches­tra.

“When I started, they only had four choirs and no instru­mental groups at all. I had put in long hours for those three years. And I’m sure that contributed to the failure of my mar­riage.

“But she never complained much about the lack of atten­tion. And somewhere along the way, she began to browse the web, looking for something to occupy her time. I’m sure it was all quite innocent at first—until she started meeting men online.”

“That’s too bad. Sounds like y’all just needed to talk things out.”

“I guess. But by the time we sat down and seriously talked about our feelings—it was just too late. She had started seeing a man she met online and had fallen in love with him. He’s an okay guy, I guess. I don’t blame him for the divorce.”

“That’s awfully big of you. But he shouldn’t have been get­ting involved with a married woman.”

“Well, he didn’t know she was married.”

“Oh.”

“At least, not at first. By the time he found out, he had already fallen for her, and that made everything okay, as far as he was concerned. In his mind, I was the bad guy—the one who’d been ignoring the devoted wife until she had no choice but to look elsewhere.”

“I could never have done that. No matter how loveless my marriage was, or how abusive Troy became—I could never have cheated on him. It’s just not right.”

“But, you needed to get out of that situation. You needed to divorce him.”

“I know. And I would have found a way out—eventually. But I still wouldn’t have cheated on him. I made a promise before God that I would stay committed to him. And that’s what I did. But I didn’t love him anymore. He literally beat the love out of me.”

“Yeah. You can’t make yourself keep loving someone.”

“No. But you can make yourself stay faithful.”

“Cynthia, you are an amazing woman.” Obviously, she had not killed Troy. How could he have even thought such a terri­ble thing about her?

“So, what was it that made you move from Longview to Coreyville?”

“Well, the divorce forced me to resign my position at the church. Their charter states that ministers of the church must have only one wife—which means you can’t be on the church staff if you’re divorced. Even if you remarry. So, I knew my days as a full-time music minister were over.

“I opened a private music studio in Longview. Fortunately many of the students I had taught for free at the church were willing to pay for lessons. Within in a few months, I was mak­ing enough money to get by on.”

“That worked out pretty well for you.”

“Yeah, it did. But before long, I was in a rut. Every time I thought I was finally ready to get out there and start dating, I would run into one of her relatives or a church member. It seemed like everybody blamed me for the divorce. And even though I knew it was only partially my fault, the guilt was eat­ing at me.

“After four years of that, I needed to get away from there. Then a music director friend told me he had given my name to First Baptist Church in Coreyville. He said they were looking for a part-time music director, and the salary was not bad. I felt like a heavy load had been lifted from my shoulders when I moved to Coreyville. It’s a wonderful little town. Or, at least I thought so.”

**********

As Marty stepped into the elevator, joining the people from a floor above, he looked out of place—but not in the way he usually looked out of place. A mom and dad, and two young children were dressed in their swimsuits, apparently on their way to the pool. Marty wore a dark blue suit, a white, starched shirt, and a maroon silk tie. He was ready. Tonight would be the night.

He strode through the lobby and out the main entrance, into the July East Texas night. He felt like a sitting duck, as he fol­lowed the sidewalk to the Denny’s Restaurant. It wouldn’t take much of a sharpshooter to knock him off right now, he thought.

**********

John X was busy scoping out the hotel. He had already developed a completely different plan of attack. He would have had a clean shot at Marty as he walked to Denny’s, but John X had something better in mind. It was a scenario he had never tried before. He would take one shot—and that shot had to be perfect. Then, he would have adequate time to escape through the rear exit.

His only regret was that he would not be able to get a video of the kill. Oh, it was going to be so beautiful. He had taped some of his executions, and enjoyed watching them over and over, while gorging on popcorn, Hershey bars, and Dr. Pepper. But this would be the coolest kill yet.

Sometimes his job was better than sex.