He had set it to vibrate, but the church was so quiet it might as well have been playing a Sousa march. There was no one else around so he let it ring, the insectile buzz shimmering through the quiet until, finally, it gave up. He had come here for peace and to pray and to think. He did not wish to hear whatever news the phone was bringing. He doubted it would be good. It rang again almost immediately and he opened his eyes and stared at the twisted altar cross ahead of him. “God give me the strength to see out this day,” he whispered and pulled the phone from his pocket. “Cassidy,” he said, his whispering voice loud in the quiet of the church. “It’s Morgan. Tucker’s dead.” He sat bolt upright. “What?” “We got a call from Ellie that there was an intruder at the ranch, and by the time we got there, Pete was dead. Guess who was riding away? Solomon Creed.” Cassidy struggled to take it all in. “Pete’s dead?” “Yes.” Morgan’s voice dropped lower. “And he was tortured first.”
