Reverend Devin Grant was late and he hated nothing more than being anything but punctual. It was the military training in him. Before settling in as the minister-in-residence for the only Protestant church in the small town of Kingsvale, New Hampshire, he’d served overseas as an Army Chaplain. At present, he maneuvered his dark green 4x4 along Main Street toward the Spencer estate as thick snowflakes cascaded onto his windshield. The Spencer family had long ago acquired the property and Devin suspected the current patriarch, Milton Spencer, enjoyed the prestige and pomp that came with such a large home. His was one of the last families in town that came from money. It also gave him an excuse to have a live-in housekeeper. He pulled his car into the circular drive and stopped in front of the large wooden doors. Just as he stepped from the driver seat, a chill wind whipped his scarf loose from around his neck and flurries pelted his coat and hair. Devin took the front steps two at a time and ducked into the front hall, shaking the flakes from his jacket. The scent of a fresh-cooked meal drew him toward the kitchen. He stopped when the décor caught his attention. A life-sized, stuffed, adult lion stood proud at the foot of the spiral staircase leading to the bedrooms above. Devin leaned forward and stroked the lion’s mane; his hand coming away slightly greasy. Wiping the residue on his coat, he removed it, hanging it and his scarf on the coat tree by the door. He then proceeded into the kitchen to find Elena—the Spencer’s housekeeper—setting pots and pans to soak.