twenty people and wondered if Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming were in attendance. He really didn’t think they were involved, but he’d ask Abby to introduce them before everyone left.
His attention was drawn to Abby’s elegant hands as they flowed over the keys of the antique baby grand piano. He wondered how a church this small had raised enough money for such a nice piano, and then it hit him. Abby’s piano at home was a Steinway and he suspected she had purchased the church’s piano with part of the insurance money. He would check out the orphanage donation, but he believed her. His internal antenna had convinced him she was innocent.
He subtly checked out each choir member. They were all smiling and seemed to appreciate the work Abby was doing as their director. His attention zoomed in on a guy seated in the back row. He had a strong, male voice that rose above the others.
The man had to be Walter Fleming. He was tall and distinguished looking. The guy would be right at home working as a banker.
Noah closed his eyes as the old hymns he remembered from childhood washed over him. A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled in his soul and he breathed deeply.
He really wished—
The music stopped and he opened his eyes as Abby said a closing prayer before the group started to disperse. Several people spoke to him as they left, and he stood when Abby scurried down the aisle—the woman did everything so energetically—with the tall, distinguished man at her side.
“Noah—Sheriff Galloway—I don’t believe you’ve met Walter Fleming.” Her words came out in a rush. Subterfuge was not one of Ms. Mayfield’s—Abby’s—finer points.
“Walter, the sheriff gave me a ride to church, and since you’re new in town, I thought you’d like to meet him.”
The man had a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Walter.”
Walter nodded briskly. “You, too, Sheriff.” Fleming patted Abby on the shoulder and Noah stiffened as a jolt of jealousy shot through him. It was unwarranted. He’d only known the woman for two days. He contributed the feeling to being her protector. “I’ll see you early Sunday morning if you don’t mind running my part for me again before the service.”
“I’ll be happy to. See you then.”
Fleming left and Noah raised a brow at Abby.
She huffed out a breath. “I thought you’d want to meet him.”
Noah grinned. “I did. Good work. I take it Joanne Ferguson wasn’t here?”
“No. And she didn’t call or email, either. I hope nothing’s wrong.”
“Well, let’s get you home.”
As they were leaving, something struck the old wooden door behind them, mere inches from Abby’s head.
Noah knew exactly what the sound meant. He grabbed Abby, twisted her around, threw open the church doors and shoved her back inside the building.
A multitude of emotions crashed through him as he held Abby, wrapped in the safety of his arms, against the back of the closed door. He had a burning desire to protect her. Fear for her well-being roiled through him. She trembled and his emotions intensified.
“It’s okay.”
She pulled out of his arms, took a deep breath and lifted her chin. He admired a woman who could pull herself together so soon after being shot at.
“Did someone just—”
“Yes. Someone shot at you and they used a silencer. It suggests a professional hit.”
Her eyes rounded, but it didn’t take long for her to take in the information. Tight fists landed on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “I want to catch the person doing this.” Noah moved back when she took a step forward. “I’m tired of being afraid to look over my shoulder. I can use myself as bait and lure whoever is after me out into the open. It’s time to set up a sting operation.”
It took a moment for her words to penetrate his brain. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. There’s a good chance we’re dealing with a professional killer.”
Her shoulders slumped, her face crumbled and his heart melted. Those adorable, soft brown eyes found his. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t live like this the rest of my life.”
“Let’s deal with tonight first. I’ll call Cooper. He’ll check the grounds of the church and we’ll get you home.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and it was his undoing. “Trust me to help you, Abby. This is what I do.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m very good at my job.”
She nodded and he reached for his cell phone. Before he had a chance to call his deputy, he heard the familiar sound of a timer going off. He grabbed Abby, shoved her back out the church doors and down the front steps, and shielded her body with his as they hit the ground.
The explosion in the church covered Abby’s scream. The shooter wasn’t trying to kill her with a bullet, he’d wanted them back inside the church where all evidence would be destroyed in the fire. A second, fiercer explosion lit the night sky. Someone wanted Abby Mayfield dead and they were willing to blow up a church to make it happen.
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