by Maisy Morgan
“Look at this,” Mary said with a slight sad smile appearing on her face. “There’s a story here about a local woman with cancer, and he bothered to clip that out of a newspaper and write down a prayer in his scrapbook. I doubt there was a single person in this town that man wasn’t praying for. Even good stuff look…” Mary pointed to an article about a local man opening up a barber shop, and Josiah had written a blessing down next to it in red ink, praying to God that the man, likely a stranger, would have great success.
“I know how you’re thinking,” Preston said. “Learning about the affair tripped me up too, so it’s nice to see a more positive side of Josiah. Jenna’s handling it fairly well, the affair, and I think this is why. She knew what kind of man her husband was.” Preston glanced over at some of the articles Mary was sifting through that Josiah had written on. “Most of those look like they’re members of his church. A few random articles, yeah, but almost all of them are church members.”
Mary flipped the scrapbook page to look at another article, and her stomach dropped to see a heartbreaking headline: “Brooks Local, age 12, Critically Injured in Hit-and-Run Incident.” There was what looked like a school picture of a younger, toothless Hannah smiling back, and a picture of a totaled car stuck in a ditch.
Preston glanced over to see what had caused her to freeze, and he shivered. “I remember that day,” he said, sighing. “I was the responding officer, you know.”
“Really?” Mary questioned. “I can’t imagine.”
“Lenny’s a creep, Mary, but a part of me understands. He was there for so long next to his wife and daughter, and unable to do anything. It really messed him up. Hannah had to be life-flighted out of there. Cindy wasn’t much better. She had a concussion. By the time someone had called it in, and I had gotten there, Lenny was convinced they were both dead.” Preston shuddered slightly. “It was one of the worst calls I’ve ever gotten, and now, I’m working a homicide case. There was something about seeing that little girl mangled in the back seat. I thought she was done for too. Those paramedics acted quick though and got her to the hospital and in surgery in record time.”
Mary flipped the page, finding a number of follow-up articles about the hit-and-run, and about how the investigation was eventually closed since they never found the driver. There were various other articles about Hannah’s status, and even an article about her release from the hospital, but there didn’t seem to be any prayers written down in the familiar red ink until she came to the last newspaper clipping about Hannah’s return home. It was about how she had lost mobility in her legs. There wasn’t a prayer for healing or a prayer for Lenny or Cindy or anything of that nature. Simply the words, “God, forgive me!” written harshly several times across the last clipping.
Mary stared at the page. Josiah had written the phrase, “God, forgive me!” at least nine times all over the final article. Just as she was about to point this out to Preston, she heard footsteps and looked up to see a half-asleep Tripp making his way into the kitchen.
“Tripp, are you all right?” Preston asked.
Tripp yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I fell asleep and woke up hungry,” he said as he headed to the fridge.
“There’s pizza,” Mary said.
“Perfect,” he said and proceeded to heat up a slice and come and sit down with them at the table. Preston covered up some of the crime scene photos, feeling not too keen about letting Tripp see Josiah’s mangled body.
“Hey, Preston, I have a question for you,” Tripp said.
“Sure, kid,” Preston said, still stacking up some of the paperwork.
“Do you think Grandma is going to be in a lot of trouble because of that stuff with Lenny, or do you think it’s going to get thrown out?” Tripp asked.
Preston smiled. “I think when a judge hears what happened, he’s going to, at most, slap your grandmother with a small fine. It sounds like she was just sticking up for you, and when she tells the judge that, I think he’ll just roll his eyes at Lenny for being a creep, like everyone else in this town does.”
Tripp took a bite of his pizza. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him.”
“Tripp, you know I don’t blame you for all of that, right?” Mary asked. “I’m the one who grabbed him and threatened him. I overreacted.”
“I don’t think you did,” Preston said under his breath. “I don’t have grandkids or anything, but if Lenny had said that crap to a kid in front of me, I probably would have done more than just threaten the guy.” Preston then looked directly at Tripp. “Can I ask you something?”
Tripp, whose mouth was now full of pizza, simply nodded.
“Why did you let it get so personal to begin with?” Preston asked. “Don’t get me wrong. You said stuff to him that a lot of people around here have been dying to say to him for a long time, but I’m just curious what set you off? No judgement, mind you, because you said what I’ve been wanting to say but just didn’t have it in me to say it.”
Tripp finished chewing his food and nodded slightly. “Yeah, well, I had been talking to Hannah, and she had been telling me a lot about her dad.”
“Really?” Preston questioned. “That’s a pretty personal topic for her, I know.”
“I guess I’m just easy to talk to,” Tripp said, trying to brush it off. He looked nervous for a moment and sighed as though he had something he wanted to say. Both Mary and Preston stared at him waiting. He took a deep breath. “Hannah told me something. I know the accident happened two years ago, and her mom thinks Lenny hasn’t come back around at all, but that’s not true.”
“What do you mean, Tripp?” Preston asked.
“Well, he showed up at the house about a year ago. Cindy was out getting groceries, and Hannah had stayed home by herself. He showed up at the house saying he wanted to come home. That he was sorry. Hannah told me that she told her dad to scram. She told him that she didn’t love him and that she hated him for leaving. Hannah even went so far as to tell him that if he came back, and if her mom actually took him back, she would kill herself. Then, he left.”
This was rather steep information to take in. “Does Cindy know?” Mary asked.
Tripp looked down. “I feel really guilty. I wish Hannah hadn’t told me, because I think Ms. Cindy deserves to know that her husband tried to come back, but Hannah chased him off. She said she even threatened to call the police on him that day. She hates her dad so much for the way he left, and I guess it rubbed off on me a little.”
It was quiet for a moment as they let this bit of information sink in. Mary had a sudden vision of her own daughter knocking on their door one day. If the woman showed up, would Tripp turn her away like that? If she showed up seeking forgiveness, would he react in the way that Hannah had? It made her feel sad to even ponder it.
Tripp, apparently uncomfortable with the silence, began to rummage through some of the things on the table. “Tripp, you don’t need to be looking at all of that,” Mary said.
“I put up the pictures of Josiah,” Preston assured her.
“What’s this?” Tripp asked, picking up a picture of the locket.
“It was found at the crime scene,” Preston said.
“ESH,” Tripp said with amusement. “Southerners really do like to monogram everything, don’t they?”
Mary smirked. “I was just saying that to Cindy earlier today. That’s actually how I wound up talking with Draco.”
“Oh, boy, you two met Draco today?” Preston asked with a laugh. “I told his parents not to name him that, you know. Did they listen? Of course not.”
Tripp smirked. “He was, well I will just say interesting.”
Mary laughed. “He was sweet, I think.”
Tripp was still looking at the picture of the locket. “ESH is Hannah’s initials.”
Mary smirked. “Those aren’t Hannah’s initials, Tripp. Their last name is True.”
“No, Cindy’s last name is True,” Tripp said. “Hannah said her mom went back to her maid
en name after the divorce. Hannah is still a Sharp.”
“That still wouldn’t be Hannah’s initials,” Mary said. “The last name starts with H.”
“Actually, Mary…” Preston said, taking the picture of the locket to look at it. “The rule of thumb is that men embroider their initials in order: first, middle, last. Women do it differently; first, last, middle initial.”
“Okay, but that still doesn’t work,” Mary said.
“Yeah, it does,” Tripp said. “Her name is Evelyn Hannah Sharp. She hates the name Evelyn because she says it’s too old, so she goes by Hannah. If it’s first name, last name, middle name that would be Evelyn, Sharp, Hannah – ESH.”
“I didn’t know her first name was Evelyn,” Mary said. “She told you that?”
“Yeah,” Tripp said and then looked embarrassed. “I mean, we text a lot, so I guess she’s told me more about her than I realized.”
Mary looked down at the newspaper clippings she had been rummaging through – the bold writing of “God, forgive me!” all over the stories about Hannah seemed to stand out even more so now. “Oh my goodness,” Mary said under her breath.
“What?” Preston questioned.
Mary turned the clippings around and showed them to Preston. “What’s this supposed to mean?” he asked.
Mary wrung her wrists. “I think Pastor Josiah might have been your hit-and-run driver that crippled Hannah two years ago.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mary, Preston, and Tripp did not waste anytime whatsoever loading up into Preston’s patrol car and driving out to Cindy and Hannah’s home. It was Mary’s first time being there which felt a little odd since they had not been invited. It was a small little house on a large property front, and the ride down the gravel driveway felt like it took a decade.
When they knocked on the door and Cindy answered dressed in a robe and her hair pulled back in a tight bun, Mary started wondering if perhaps they should have called first. “Preston? Mary?” Cindy questioned. “Is everything okay?” she asked, opening the door wide. “Come in,” she said.
They entered the house, and spotted Hannah in the living room with a table in front of her, a scrabble board laid out. Evidently she and her mother had been having some sort of board game night before they were interrupted. Cindy invited them to sit down, and Hannah seemed quite excited that her friend was paying her a visit so late at night. “What’s up?” she exclaimed.
“We are looking into Josiah’s case, and we came across something we think you could help us with,” Preston said, not wasting any time.
Cindy sat down by her daughter, a befuddled look on her face. “Oh?” she questioned. “You think we can help with that?”
“Yes,” Preston said, pulling out the picture of the locket. “Can you tell me if you recognize this?”
Cindy looked quite alarmed. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Yes, that’s Hannah’s, but I haven’t seen it in the longest time. Hannah lost it about a year ago. Her father had given it to her when she was little.”
Mary was afraid of this. Staring down at Hannah, she looked at her intently. “Hannah, can you remember the last time you saw the locket?” she asked.
Hannah’s face was a pink color. She wrung her wrists for a moment. “I don’t know…maybe a year ago?”
Tripp looked down, avoiding eye contact with her. Mary was sure Hannah was piecing together that Tripp may have told them about her last interaction with her father. “Hannah,” Preston said firmly. “I think now is the time, sweetheart, to tell us exactly how you lost this locket?”
Cindy looked at her daughter with the same puzzled expression she had been wearing when they had come knocking on their door so late at night. After a long pause, Hannah finally spoke. “I chunked it at my dad’s head when he came by to see me one day when Mom wasn’t home,” she said. You could tell by the look on Cindy’s face that this information clearly threw her for a loop.
“Your dad came by when I wasn’t home!” she exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Hannah said looking ashamed. “I answered the door, and he was all crying and acting pathetic and stupid. He said he wanted to come home and wanted to see you. He said he was sorry, and I chunked my locket at his stupid face and told him to never come back.” Hannah suddenly started to cry, and it made Mary incredibly uncomfortable. Thus far, the only side of Hannah she had ever known was the rough and tough survivor. Seeing her this vulnerable caused a pinching feeling in the pit of Mary’s stomach. “I’m sorry, Mom,” Hannah said. “I just didn’t want him to come back home. I should have told you.”
Cindy looked pale. “What does this mean? I’m sorry, this is something we can talk about later, sweetheart.” Cindy put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder and then looked at Preston and Mary. “What does this have to do with Josiah?” she asked.
“I just needed to confirm that the locket was in Lenny’s possession,” Preston said. “Did your dad take the locket with him that day?”
Hannah nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“Because it was found at the crime scene,” Preston said.
Cindy and Hannah both looked befuddled. “But, why?” Cindy asked.
“Can you tell me Lenny’s boot size?” Preston asked.
“Um… yes, he wears about a fourteen,” Cindy said.
Preston cringed. Mary looked at him and questioned. “Is that about right?” she asked, and Preston nodded.
“I don’t understand,” Cindy said. “You seem to be suggesting that Lenny killed Josiah, am I right? That doesn’t make any sense. Lenny always liked Josiah just fine! I doubt he cared about the affair… why would Lenny—?”
“We have reason to believe…,” Preston began, hesitating for a moment before saying, “we believe that Josiah might have been the hit-and-run driver that crippled Hannah. He was a closet alcoholic, and he had been hoarding newspaper clippings about the accident.”
Hannah covered her face. “And you think my dad… you think he found out?”
“I think so,” Preston said. “Though, I’m not sure how. We believe your dad found out that Josiah was the one who caused the accident and went after him.” He took a breath and stood. “I’ve got to get a BOLO out on Lenny.”
“Are you two going to be okay?” Mary asked.
“We’ll be fine,” Cindy said. “You two go do what you need to do.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Tripp said under his breath, but Hannah wouldn’t even look at him.
Mary hated leaving the home in that way, but Preston now had work to do. They had legitimate evidence that pointed to Lenny now, and they needed to find him. They pulled out of the driveway, and Preston called into dispatch that they needed to locate Lenny Sharp as quickly as possible. They were only a few minutes down the road when they started to hear police sirens. “Does Lenny live near here?” Mary asked.
“Not too far off,” Preston said. Then, dispatch radioed in to Preston that Lenny had not been found at his place of residence. “I should get you two home,” he said. “I’m going to have go out looking for him.”
Tripp suddenly spoke up. “What if Lenny realizes you’re looking for him?” he asked.
“I doubt that he will,” Preston said.
“If he saw cop cars all around his house and dipped out,” Tripp said. “Do you think…? Do you think he would try to go see Hannah when he realizes the police are looking for him?”
Preston hesitated to answer this question, and that was all the fuel Tripp needed. “Take us back! Please, let’s go get Cindy and Hannah. They can stay at our house until you find Lenny,” he insisted.
Preston looked to Mary for a moment, and she nodded. “I think that would be a good idea until you find Lenny.”
“Okay, call her and let her know we’re coming to get her,” Preston said, and Mary did just that.
On the way there, they received a call that they had found Lenny’s car abandoned on the side of the road not too far from where they were, and this seemed to light a fire in Preston.
They sped down the driveway, and he hurried inside to fetch Cindy and Hannah. Mary sat for a moment before telling Tripp to stay put and that she was going to help with Hannah’s wheelchair.
Tripp watched his grandmother dart up to the house, and he exhaled heavily. He would feel a lot better knowing that Hannah and Cindy were with them instead of home alone where Lenny could easily get to them. He leaned his head back against the seat feeling a pang of guilt for telling his grandmother and Preston about Hannah’s little secret, but if it was going to help solve a murder case, he was hopeful that Hannah would forgive him. He had only said anything because he had felt concerned for her.
Suddenly, there was a banging sound behind him followed by a mumbling voice. “What in the world?” he said, spinning around and realizing that someone was locked inside the trunk of Preston’s patrol car.
Tripp jumped out of the patrol car and unlocked the back of the trunk, and there was that weird kid, Draco, staring up at him in his Doctor Who-like attire. “Thank God,” the kid said. “It was getting hard to breathe in there.”
Tripp stared back at him in absolute disbelief. “What the…” that was all that Tripp could manage to say. He grabbed Draco by his coat sleeve and jerked him out of the trunk. “What are you doing in there?!” Tripp finally snapped.
Draco held up his hands defensively. “I was in your driveway earlier… and you all came out so suddenly. I have been kind of following you, and I wanted to try to talk to you, but I panicked, and the trunk was open, so I hid in it. Trust me, I can explain.”