She Without Sin

by J. P. Barry

  Initially, I fought being there. I’d resist going upstairs to join the others, constantly planning an escape. Surely, by now, Jillian alerted the authorities, but truthfully, what were they going to do? They’d write it off to marital abandonment due to the tabloid articles about our divorce. Quite possibly my name was entered into the system for cops to keep a lookout, but in reality, they wouldn’t, and where would they see me anyway? I wasn’t allowed to leave the property.

  Warren would come down daily and visit, enforcing this was the best place for me to be, and encouraging I try out this new life, embracing my surroundings. Several of the ‘flock’ attempted chatting, but it wasn’t until a woman who I figured to be in her late twenties began speaking nightly with me in private. Sarah would wait for me to exit the bathroom. When no one was looking, she’d pull me aside, purging inner secrets in a childlike fashion. As she told the tale, long fingers would twirl strands of hair. She’d giggle and whisper, always making sure to look up at me through long eyelashes. I wasn’t sure if she was seeking a new friendship, or looking to embark upon a romantic relationship. On my first evening in the house, Warren warned against discussing our pasts–whatever happened back then didn’t matter, or exist anymore, and brothers and sisters were forbidden to exchange physical intimacies. Never-the-less, Sarah was human and humans had needs and desires. On my side of the equation, no attraction existed. Only sorrow over her story.

  Warren had taken her years ago. She’d been ‘rescued’ from a physically and emotionally abusive husband, Seth. She had no children, and had worked as a public-school teacher in Manhattan. Sarah said Warren ‘saved’ her as she took a shortcut down a back alley one rainy evening late fall. When questioned why break house rules by telling me this personal information, she explained she knew who I was, and felt comfortable in my presence. After listening to Sarah’s nightly ramblings, I felt if I had to be stuck here for who knew how long, the time spent in Purgatory should be used in a more productive fashion. Sulking and plotting would have to wait. So, using my knowledge and talents, I set out to help these lost, poor, broken people. They didn’t need to be controlled by Warren to heal. Sadly, they didn’t know any better.

  “Brother Nick?” Sarah said one morning when we were alone in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

  The rest were still downstairs preparing for the day, and Warren and Noah left for town to pick up supplies. Warren and Noah slept upstairs in their own rooms. Both had access to a television and computer. Despite Warren saying the house was internet and media free, while tidying the upstairs a few days ago, both doors had been unlocked. Curiosity took over, and a careful venture inside each’s personal space occurred. It didn’t shock, or surprise. You’d think they’d keep the devices hidden, but no. There they were, bold as brass in the middle of the room. Granted, the second floor remained off limits–no one dare defy Warren and sneak up, but I’d been given instructions that afternoon before they left to give the upstairs a good once over. The only logical explanation was Warren had to keep tabs on the biological family members and friends of his ‘flock’ to make sure they weren’t buzzing around, potentially creating a problem. In their rush to vacate the house, they probably forgot to lock up.

  “Yes,” I replied, putting the frying pan down, providing total attention.

  She looked down, then up innocently through those long eyelashes. Initially, I wasn’t sure of her motives, but after close consideration the doe eyed expression seemed to be her coy way of showing attraction. In fact, as the days drew on it wasn’t a big secret she wanted me as a partner, not another house brother. The others saw it too. A few had even commented on it privately. Warren had not—yet. I immediately shut it down, because giving this girl the wrong impression wasn’t something of interest, nor okay to do. For her, this setup was a life sentence – something she welcomed. For me, hell no. Returning to Jillian as soon as possible, the goal–the only goal. This was not, and would never be, my forever. However, making her feel like I cared–which I did, just not in the fashion she desired, and creating a healthy environment was key in the recovery process.

  “Do you think I’m pretty?” Big brown eyes instantly shot down to her shoes. She wanted to be in an atmosphere where she believed a good, safe person held interest in her on a higher level than ‘flock’ member. Not having been able to accurately assess her, my thoughts kept returning to this woman’s lack of self-confidence and inferiority issues.

  Crap. Tread lightly with this one.

  “I think you’re smart, talented, gifted, giving, caring, and kind–qualities that supersede external beauty any day of the week. That fades. Whom you are inside lasts a lifetime. You’re also a fantastic cook, skilled knitter, and amazing gardener. The blankets you made are fantastic, and you were the only one able to bring the rose bush in the yard back to life,” I answered, with a smile.

  She didn’t say anything. Her fallen expression spoke such loud volumes any series of words wouldn’t have done justice for the dialogue going on inside her head at that very moment.

  “Sarah,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I have a wife. We took vows. As long as we’re married, I will not go against those promises.”

  “Brother Warren saved you from her and her evil ways. She shouldn’t be a part of your life anymore. You have to let her go,” she yelled. “And, it’s Sister Sarah, not Sarah,” she added, before storming out of the room.

  This is bad. Very bad. Damn it.

  Pissing off an unhinged, mentally imbalanced, cult member was never a good way to start any day–ever, and an even worse way to gain her or anyone in the house’s trust.

  Chapter Eight

  Jillian

  Two weeks–fourteen long days passed since Nick vanished. Nothing had been done to locate him. His Lexus was towed to a local police impound yard. I’d been told a team combed the SUV, and nothing out of the ordinary presented. After that, calls and emails to the station were ignored. Not knowing what to do, but realizing too much time had passed, I reached out to my personal attorney, Charles Downey. His first reaction was for me to hire a private investigator, which I contemplated, but then he suggested holding a press conference. This would not only encourage the general public to be on the lookout, but would force the police’s hand to get off their asses and do something, utilizing their technology–technology tax payers such as myself, funded. This move might also inspire the FBI to get involved. With more resources on my side, finding Nick would become easier. I hoped.

  “Before you pull the trigger on this and give me the go ahead, I must warn, for as many pros this tactic may provide, there will be the same, or more, amount of cons. All your hidden secrets and dirty laundry runs the risk of being exposed. Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Charles asked.

  “Yes. Nick has to be found. He needs to come home,” I answered, not caring which skeletons flew out of the closet. The discomfort–well worth it. Nick’s safe return far outweighed the world knowing we both committed adultery, or put a pin in a potential divorce.

  “All right. I’ll set everything up, and will alert the police,” he said, and hung up.

  Twenty-four hours later, I stood on the front steps of my home addressing the nation. Camera lights flashed; video equipment rolled. It seemed as if every media outlet showed up. To my right stood Liam and Charles. To the left, the Commissioner of the Nassau County Police Department, and a team leader assigned to this case from the FBI. The second Charles informed the precinct of the presser, within the hour he received a call from the FBI. Charles informed after the conference we’d sit down to discuss matters with Special Agent Timothy Wilder. For the moment, he and his office had been briefed, and settled into a nearby hotel.

  “For those of you who do not know me, I’m Jillian Winters. I stand here today asking the public for help. My husband, Doctor Nicholas Winters, has been missing for fifteen days. The last time I saw him, he was here, at our home. I was leaving for work. It was around six o’cloc
k in the evening. Nick’s black Lexus SUV has been found at St. Luke’s Roman Catholic Church in town–abandoned. It’s to my understanding none of his personal effects, such as his cell phone, which has been turned off since the night he went missing, were in the vehicle. Calls, emails, and text messages have gone unanswered. The last traceable ping came from the church parking lot. His SUV was intact, with no signs of foul play. The police, and now FBI, have been actively investigating, but still can’t locate Nick. I fear he’s in danger, and humbly ask for assistance in finding him. If you’ve seen him, think you have, or know of his whereabouts, please come forward, immediately. There is a reward which I have solely funded for any information leading to Nick’s safe return.” I paused. “Nick, if you’re watching, please know I am doing everything in my power to bring you home. If it’s the last thing I do, you will return to me, alive and well. To any and all persons who may have my husband, please, do the right thing, and turn yourself in. Yes, there will be a price to pay for your actions, but the longer you wait, the worse the consequences will be.

  “I love Nick. I miss my husband. We may not have a fairytale life, but he’s my world, and …,” I said, no longer able to choke back tears. Liam placed a strong hand on my shoulder, and squeezed. Turning, I buried my face in his chest. I couldn’t take, nor properly handle the severe rise of emotion–something unexpected. Usually, I was in control, saving the weeping for later when alone. Sobbing uncontrollably into Liam’s periwinkle blue cotton dress shirt, I couldn’t stop. Makeup ran, staining the fabric. Regaining composure seemed impossible. Arms shook, legs went weak. If it wasn’t for Liam’s firm grip, I would’ve hit the floor, knees first. The sound of his steady heartbeat, and the hum of the soft wind drowned out the bright lights, snapping cameras, and reporters screaming questions in my general direction.

  “Good morning. I’m Nassau County Police Commissioner, Dan Lindsay, and the gentleman to my left is FBI Special Agent Tim Wilder. An active joint investigation between Nassau County PD, Suffolk County PD, NYPD, various other surrounding municipalities, and the FBI is underway as we seek answers in the disappearance of Doctor Nicholas ‘Nick’ Winters,” Lindsay began, but I wasn’t listening. His recount to the public of what was already known provided no closure or resolution. He spoke for roughly five minutes before turning the microphone over to Wilder. I simply stood beside Liam, clinging to his arm, weeping.

  “I won’t waste anyone’s valuable time by repeating what Commissioner Lindsay stated. The only thing I’d like to add is, this case is being treated as an abduction, meaning we have reason to believe Doctor Winters was taken against his will. The area around St. Luke’s Church has been thoroughly combed. Security cameras are being checked, and Doctor Winters’ black Lexus SUV is currently undergoing further analysis, in addition to what Nassau County PD has conducted. Several leads are being followed, but as of right now we have no suspects.

  “Like Mrs. Winters said earlier, we ask you, the public, to come forward with any information you may have–even if you believe it to be small. It may end up being the key to solving this case. There is a one-million-dollar reward for any information leading to his safe return, provided by Mrs. Winters. You can call the hotline number, or send a tip via email. Phone numbers and web addresses are listed on the flyers you’ve been given. These flyers will also be circulated throughout the Tri-State Area, as well as uploaded, and sent to police departments around the country. With a fifteen-day lag time, Doctor Winters could be anywhere. All communication will remain anonymous. We have time for a few questions,” Wilder said.

  “Why is this information coming out now, after fifteen days?” A male reporter shouted.

  “Initial assessments from the Nassau Country PD suggested Doctor Winters left on his own free will. In light of recent developments, we have reason to believe this was not the case, which is why the FBI has been called in, and the status of this case has been upped to active abduction,” Wilder answered. “You, the woman in the red top.”

  “Can you elaborate on what made the FBI upgrade the status of the case?”

  “No, not at this time. The gentleman in the brown coat all the way in the back.”

  “Have any arrests been made?”

  “No. Last question. You, lady with the yellow and blue boots.”

  “What’s Mrs. Winters involvement in this? Is she being questioned because of the divorce?”

  “Mrs. Winters is not a suspect. Her alibi for the evening in question has been checked out, and confirmed. As for Doctor and Mrs. Winters’ personal life, that’s none of your business. No more questions.” With that, Wilder turned on his heel and walked back into my house.

  “Thank you for your time, and for joining us today. That’s all for now. We’ll provide updates to the press as they are available,” Commissioner Lindsay spoke, following Wilder’s lead.

  “Come on, Jill. Let the police worry about getting these vultures off the property,” Liam urged, hand on the small of my back, escorting me into the foyer.

  “Mrs. Winters, I’d like to speak if you have a moment. Mr. Stevens and Mr. Downey are more than welcome to join,” Wilder requested.

  With a nod, I walked into Nick’s office, and closed the door. Wilder, Liam, and Charles all sat beside one another on rich port wine colored leather wingchairs. I took a seat behind Nick’s massive mahogany desk, waiting for Wilder to speak. Leaning back in the oversized office chair proved empowering. Until that moment, Nick’s picky nature over the setup of his space never made sense. When he sat here, he felt in control. A secret smile formed over how fantastic of a hold he had over human nature, more specifically, his own.

  “I know this must be a difficult time, but I’d like if you could walk me through the events forty-eight hours before Doctor Winters disappearance. It may be hard, but try to recall every detail possible, even if you don’t think it matters,” he said, taking out a cheap, flimsy notebook, opening it to a blank page, hands poised with pen.

  To the best of my recollection, I told him everything that happened from the time we met at the lawyer’s office to the rude cop in the church parking lot.

  “So, you and Doctor Winters were separated?”

  “No. Yes, but not really. We both had lawyers, and were actively discussing divorce, but at that meeting, he was the one who asked to speak with me in private. Nick wanted to work on our issues, putting the separation on hold. I agreed, because I felt the same way. Our attorneys told us that was totally fine, and wished us the best. Both placed a hold on the case. But, all the while we were going back and forth through lawyers, we remained in the same house. We existed in different areas, and slept in different bedrooms.”

  “Mr. Downey, are you representing Mrs. Winters in the divorce matter?” Wilder asked.

  “I was.”

  “You’re aware of the state of the Winters’ marriage prior to Doctor Winters disappearance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Care to comment on it? Can you shed light on anything?”

  “I can, but due to attorney/client privilege, I won’t. Not without a court order. However, I will comment, for the record, violence, threats, or anything which would require a restraining order was never an issue. Additionally, I can confirm everything Mrs. Winters said is true.”

  “I understand. However, with this being treated as an abduction, whatever you can offer beyond that would be most helpful, and useful in bringing Doctor Winters home faster.” He paused, thoughtfully. “I suppose what I’m asking is, can anyone in this room offer the names of any possible persons of interest? Are there any proverbial skeletons we should be made aware of before the press finds out, and makes it into something it’s not, potentially complicating, or interfering with our investigation?”

  Charles and Liam both glanced at me. The ball was in my court if I wanted to own the affairs or not.

  “For the past several years, I’ve engaged in a handful of extra-marital affairs. Nick had one as well. I’d be happy to prov
ide all of their names and contact information, but highly doubt any of them have anything to do with this. I don’t know about Nick’s, but all of the men I socialized with were married celebrities, and wouldn’t want it to get out,” I answered, boldly. Eventually it would come out in the wash now that the press and public were involved. The press would dig and stalk, while the public would start social media amateur sleuth groups blindly blaming anyone their simpleton minds could fathom.

  “Okay. Can I have those names, please?”

  “Jake Forsyth, the actor. Ryder McCullum, the author. Marc Davies, the news anchor. Todd Cooper, the sports commentator. Mitchel Chambers, the stuntman. Kelly Greenly, was Nick’s personal assistant, and the only person I’m aware of he cheated with,” I said, scribbling down the names and last known telephone numbers.

  “Are you currently having an affair with anyone at the moment?”

  “No.”

  “When was the last time you did?”

  “I don’t know. Six, eight months ago? It was with Jake Forsyth.”

  “Have you had any communication with any of these men? Has Doctor Winters with Ms. Greenly?”

  “No, I haven’t. We’re all public figures with spouses. It was a low key, private thing. When one of us is in town, we may or may not reach out. If it’s a yes, then we’ll meet up at a hotel. If it’s a no, it’s a no. Period. As for Nick, it’s to my understanding he’s not, but I can’t say for sure when the last time he spoke to, or saw Kelly.” My stomach churned at the thought of Kelly and Nick still speaking.

  “I’ll have to question everyone involved, but don’t worry. It will be done with the highest amount of privacy, and the utmost respect, free of judgement. No one will even know.”