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.Seven days had passed since Trisha Webster and Angie Salter had disappeared.The only evidence that the two girls had been on the sandbar were a few beers, some footprints, and the bikini that Mrs.Webster had identified as Trisha’s.Dixon knew that an editorial about the missing girls would sound like blame.Willard Jones was one week closer to his execution.Doubt about his guilt ate at her, and the morality of the death penalty would make a knock-down editorial.But Jones’s crime, if he’d committed it, was in the middle of the state.He held no interest for readers of the Independent.That left the school board’s penchant for secret meetings.The board had held another secret meeting, and Tommy Hayes had been reinstated.Dixon had heard that Hayes had hired a Gulfport lawyer.The young teacher had not gone quietly, and the school board, facing more legal problems over the disappearance of the two girls, had backed off.In essence, Hayes had been charged, hung, and resuscitated without ever having a trial.Dixon picked up the photographs of Trisha and Angie.Since the river search a week ago, there had been five others, with dogs, horses, four-wheelers, jeeps, and a psychic whom Beth Salter had brought from Pensacola.God, Beth Salter was a nightmare.She’d ranted and accused and laid the blame for Angle’s disappearance everywhere except at her own doorstep.She was more interested in lawsuits and laying blame than in finding her daughter.It didn’t seem possible that the two girls had disappeared without a trace, but no one had seen or heard from them since first period at school the past Tuesday.Dixon thought again of the river, with its deceptively quiet surface.The girls had been taken.By the river or by someone.What would a kidnapper do with them? They weren’t girls whose families could pay a big ransom.But they were pretty girls.Sexy girls.Perfect prey for a predator.The thought of Robert Medino’s theory about a religious zealot chilled her.The bell over the door jangled, and she looked up to find Medino standing just inside the door.“What’s the lead headline?” he asked.The smile that followed was calculated.“Too early to tell,” she said.“We could have a breaking story before we quit tonight.Where have you been all week? I haven’t seen you at any of the searches.”“I had to finish up a story in New Orleans.” He shook his head.“Those girls won’t be found.At least not alive.”“What makes you so sure?” Dixon remembered the way the sheriff had looked at Medino.Not contemptuously, exactly, but close, tempered with suspicion.“I’ve been tracking this guy since last spring.I’ve devoted months to this story.This statue that he decapitated here, it’s sort of the culmination of his obsession.At least with statuary.Now he’s moved on to flesh.”“And his obsession is?” Dixon didn’t have time to shoot the breeze with Robert Medino, but she couldn’t help herself.He was smart and articulate, and he had the fire of a good story in his eyes.He had a high opinion of himself, but Dixon found that appealing; confidence was an attractive quality.“The Virgin Mary.”His serious expression stopped her from laughing.Medino wasn’t a man who would enjoy being laughed at under any circumstances.“So how do you figure he hooked up with those two girls? Angie Salter, from all I’ve heard, wouldn’t qualify as a virgin.” She thought about Tommy Hayes and Welford’s insinuations.“If I have this man pegged correctly, he views women as either/or.Either a slut or a virgin.This obsession stems from something in his past, some church-related incident.”“I didn’t realize you had a degree in psychology.” Dixon took care to keep her needling complimentary.“I’ve done a lot of reading and a lot of talking to several authorities.Dr.Jonas Brennaman of the Center for Human Wellness, folks like that.That’s one thing about working for Cue: people find the time to talk to me.”“I can see where it would be a real asset.” Dixon had known national magazine reporters.They had access to people.The rich and famous wanted good press.“And your theory is that this religious fanatic has moved from statuary to flesh?”“It’s not that simple.I’ve been following him for months.I’ve seen the progression of his anger.That’s what drives him.He’s torn between his belief in the sanctity of the female and her terrible sexual power over him.He wants to be loved and nurtured, yet he wants to screw her.When he first started destroying church property, it was only images of Mary where she was praying.He’d leave the ones of her with an infant or with the saints.As his desire grew, so did his anger.” He shrugged.“He can’t win, and that frustration has grown over the past months.It’s the virgin/whore complex taken to the ultimate extreme.I’d guess his mother figures prominently into this.It was inevitable that he’d move against a woman-child.If the sheriff had listened to me, those girls might still be alive.”“It isn’t every day that a religious nut case strolls into Chickasaw County.So how does he travel?”“I’m not certain.Could be a car, or it could be by bus.”“How did this guy find out about the statue in Jexville?”“He reads.I’d be willing to bet he’s well educated.Possibly church educated.That statue, because of the blind artist, got a lot of media attention.I believe he’s traveling 1-10 East.My guess is that he’s going to head to St.Augustine, where the Spanish first brought priests into the New World.I expected him to do something dramatic there, but he’s upped the ante here in Jexville.”Dixon nodded.“It’s an interesting theory.”“It’s more than a theory.” Robert leaned closer.“This is going to be a big story.Huge.Maybe a movie
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