Matt nodded. “Owen was passed out in the back of the truck. He had no idea what happened that night.”
James W. continued to read. “Zach said somethin’ about Melinda needin’ to know what she’d been missin’. And that he was a gentleman so he didn’t tell the police about that.”
Matt nodded. “Zach raped Melinda.”
James W. read on. “Owen stood up real sudden and knocked me over. That’s when I spilled the beer on Zach. You asked if she’d heard anything that would’ve caused Owen to have such a knee-jerk reaction.”
“And she said that they were talking about suitcases.”
James W. turned away from the board. “That must’ve been the moment that Owen realized that Zach and possibly he, in a drunken stupor, had killed the girls.”
“Then last Friday Zach and Owen went to the Pit Stop in Dannerton. Owen wasn’t drinking. They had words about something Owen showed Zach from his phone.”
“Zach was real sad,” James W. remembered.
Both men were silent for a long moment. “I don’t think Zach really wanted to kill Owen, but he had to or Owen would’ve gone to the police with what he knew—and the pictures,” Matt finally observed.
“Zach might not have wanted to kill Owen, but it doesn’t sound like he had any problem killin’ Melinda or Diane,” James W. said grimly. “We’ve found Melinda’s body. Habeus corpus issues with Diane. I wish we knew what Zach did with her remains.”
Matt put a hand on James W.’s shoulder. “Careful what you wish for, my friend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea where she’s at, and you’re not gonna like it much. And Elsbeth sure isn’t going to like it.”
“Where?” James W. demanded.
“I’ll bet you a load of money that she’s in that concrete slab Zach was pouring for your hot tub the night she disappeared.”
Stunned, James W. sat back down hard in his chair. “My hot tub?”
“We already know he used the concrete to bury Melinda in the river. My guess is he put Diane’s body in the block he poured for you under the tub.” Matt shrugged. “He probably figured it wasn’t deep enough for two bodies, so he put Melinda in the river.”
“My God.” James W.’s eyes were wide. “Elsbeth’s gonna have a fit.”
The sheriff’s cell phone rang. “What?” he demanded. “Richard, this is not a good—” He listened for a moment, and his anger turned to concern. “Where?” He grabbed a paper and pen from Matt’s desk and began writing furiously. “You’ve called the volunteer fire department? Good. I’ll be there right away. Once the fire’s under control, we’ve got another bit of business. Call Castleburry and Martens to get them movin’. And tell ‘em to bring their weapons.”
He turned to Matt. “Fire on the north side of town. I’ve got to make sure it gets under control. On my way over I’ll call in for an arrest warrant.”
“I’d like to go with you when you arrest Zach.”
“I’ll swing by the parsonage and pick you up.”
“Call me on my cell phone,” Matt said. “I might not be here.” Just as he spoke his phone went off.
“Pastor Hayden,” he answered.
“Hey, preacher man.” It was Angie. All thought of crime, murder and cement flew from Matt’s mind at the sound of her voice. “Care to bring my dog back?”
Matt looked at James W. and shrugged innocently. “Of course, I’ll bring Shadow over.”
“Come around back. The front doors are locked. See you soon.” She hung up.
James W. was forced to smile. “Well, you take care of your business, and I’ll take care of mine, then we’ll go get Zach.” He headed for the door. “Just remember, she’s my sister.”
Chapter Thirty
At Last
The front of the Ice House was dark, Matt noted as he crossed the bridge, but the clouds had moved off to the south. Between the full moon’s light cascading through the oak trees and Shadow’s confident trot, he made his way around the old structure without any problem. He was going home, after all.
He walked up the steps to the back porch, then saw that the colored lights over the dance floor were glowing dimly.
Angie stood, waiting for him, across the floor by the soundboard. Her beautiful red hair was loose and flowing in the soft breezes of the overhead fans. She’d changed clothes; a violet-colored blouse hung loosely at her shoulders.
Matt stopped in the doorway. “Brought your dog back.” He managed to keep a silly grin from his face, but he still stuck his thumbs in his jeans pockets.
“That’s right nice of you, Preacher,” she said. After pushing a button on the music board, she moved to the center of the dance floor. “Care to dance?”
The soft drone of a steel guitar filled the space. Matt walked into her arms and pulled her close.
She laid her head against his shoulder, running her hands around his back, then holding him tight. Slowly they began to move with the music.
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?
Resting his chin against her head, he realized that this moment was perfect. He could stand here holding her forever. The music seemed to agree as Anne Murray’s voice floated around them.
Angie felt his heart beat through the cotton of his shirt. It was warm, and steady, and safe. His arms around her were strong, and she realized for the first time how powerfully built he really was beneath that black shirt he always wore.
She pulled away slightly, looking into his blue eyes, then touched his face with her fingertips. A bit of bristle was just beginning to shadow his jaw, but his lips were still soft and inviting. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.
The touch of her lips was what undid him. He moved one arm down her spine while he pulled her closer with the other. With the press of her breasts against his chest, he deepened the kiss.
His mouth was wet and strong and tasted of wine. She opened hers further, welcoming him, wanting him. She was dizzy with his possession.
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there after the music stopped, but she knew she never wanted to let go.
Matt finally pulled away when he realized his hands were yearning to touch her more intimately. He put his forehead to hers and the two of them breathed deeply for a few moments.
“Good song,” he said quietly.
“Glad you liked it.” She grinned, still holding him close. “You realize you have your hand on my ass.”
“You realize that’s not the only place I want my hands.”
They pulled apart.
“Can I get you a drink or somethin’?” she asked.
At that moment, Matt’s phone went off. He pulled it from his pocket to see who it was. “It’s your brother.”
Glaring slightly, Angie backed off. “My soon-to-be-dead brother, you mean.”
Matt smiled as he answered the phone. “Matt, here.”
He listened, then looked at Angie. “Fifteen minutes should be fine. I’ll meet you at the parsonage.” He snapped the phone shut.
“You have to leave? Now?”
“I think I’d better leave.” He glanced at his watch. “But I have a few minutes.”
“Matt, we need to talk,” she said, disappointment filling her.
“Angie, darling,” he said as he took her hand. “If I stay here, we’re not going to talk.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each finger, one at a time.
Angie’s heart flipped, knowing at that moment exactly what he meant.
And that he was right.
“So,” he said, leading her to the soundboard. “How about I call you after James W. leaves, and then we really can talk.”
“Like on the phone?” she said in disbelief.
“You make me feel like I was back in high school” He grinned. “We might as well act like it.” He turned to the row of buttons. “How do I make this thing work, any
way?”
“It’s like a jukebox. Type in the song you want here,” she pointed to the keyboard. “And I’ll put it in the system to play.”
Matt thought for a moment, then nodded. He punched in a title. “Don’t look,” he said, covering the screen with his hand. He moved aside for Angie to do the rest.
She hit “play,” and he walked her back out onto the dance floor. She smiled as she recognized the opening notes of the Rascal Flatts song. They walked into each other’s arms, but this time he took her hand and guided her around the dance floor as the tune “Bless the Broken Road” floated around them.
At the last chorus, Matt pulled Angie close. He kissed her again, this time gently, knowing in his heart that God had blessed both of them.
Chapter Thirty-One
A Shot in the Dark
After Matt left, Angie had to take Shadow by the collar to get the dog to go up the stairs with her. “I don’t blame you, boy,” she said quietly. “I’d rather be with him, too.”
She stood on her balcony overlooking the back porch, watching for Matt to come back into view after he crossed the bridge.
He was right. She did feel like it was high school all over again—sneaking kisses when no one was looking, whispering on the phone at night when everyone else slept.
“But I’m older, now. And wiser,” she said to Shadow. And glad of it, she thought. Back then, everything had to be a rush to the next step.
Now? She scratched behind her dog’s ears. Now, she and Matt could take it a step at a time, savoring every moment along the way. They had their whole lives in front of them.
Matt came into view across the river, sauntering down the sidewalk that connected church to parsonage. At the midpoint, he turned and looked her way. He lifted his hand to wave.
Suddenly Shadow barked ferociously and pulled at his collar. He snapped at Angie when she held him back. In her shock, she let go. He charged down the steps.
“Shadow!” she called, starting to run after him, then froze when she heard the loud gunshots.
Pop! Pop!
She looked back toward the parsonage. Matt’s body was splayed on the lawn.
Angie screamed. “Matt!”
By the time she made it to the bridge, Shadow was already at Matt’s side. He began howling mournfully.
In the distance ahead, she heard footsteps running toward the parking lot at the front of the church. She crossed the bridge, and at that moment a figure ran up beside her. “Is it the pastor?” The man didn’t stop for an answer, but passed Angie in a dead run heading toward the howling dog.
She hadn’t seen his face, but the smell of gasoline told her immediately it was Aaron Rodriguez.
“Oh, my God,” she heard him cry as he bent to Matt’s motionless body.
She ran up beside him and had to draw a deep breath to keep from passing out.
There was so much blood.
“Shot him in the head. Give me somethin’ to stop the blood and call 911!” Aaron ordered.
Angie pulled off her purple blouse and threw it Aaron’s way, thanking the good Lord in heaven she’d worn a bra. She hadn’t grabbed her cell, but she knew where one was. She dropped to her knees, then pulled the phone from Matt’s back pocket and punched in the numbers.
***
His first thought was that he was floating above the ground, watching the scene below. Aaron was applying pressure to his gutted head. Shadow howled. Angie was dialing his cell phone.
How odd, he decided. He felt no pain. No fear. Only…detachment.
Matt…was that his name? Somehow that didn’t sound right. No. His name was Michael. Michael Hogan. But names didn’t really matter anymore. He wanted to reach out to Angie and touch her, but he was floating upward now, the scene below getting smaller and smaller as he went higher into darkness. Then he looked up and saw a tiny light, far away, up ahead. He floated higher and higher and as he did, the light became closer, brighter, fuller. The light was beautiful, but somehow it wasn’t heat that was emanating from the brilliant rays.
It was love.
Pure, perfect, all-encompassing love. It filled his nose and his taste, and every sense in his being.
Was this heaven? Then from behind the light, three figures stepped forward, reaching toward him, smiling.
“Dad!” he called. Then he recognized the second figure as his brother. “Bryson!”
The third figure had no face, the light was so bright in its being. Then he realized the light was coming from the being.
It spoke. “I am the light.”
***
“God Almighty.” James W. still couldn’t believe his eyes. Two emergency lights illuminated the grisly scene. Matt Hayden’s bloodied body struggled for each breath, and the top of his head was swathed in bandages that were already turning crimson. James W. wondered if there was enough blood left inside for Matt to survive.
Two EMTs were loading Matt onto a stretcher. A third was holding aloft two IV bags strung to the preacher’s body. Aaron Rodriguez and Angie stood off to the side, covered in blood. Shadow lay beside them, whimpering softly.
The EMTs lifted Matt into the ambulance. They were moving fast, that in itself telling the sheriff that Matt was in a critical state. He turned to his deputy. “Richard, you follow them to the hospital, and stand guard over him. Do not leave his side, you hear me?”
The skinny deputy’s face was grim. “Yes, sir.”
“Here’s the deal. Me and the other deputies are gonna go arrest the person I think did this. But I’m sendin’ you, ‘cuz I want someone I can trust lookin’ over him. That’s you. You understand me? Someone’s tryin’ to kill the preacher, and the job’s not finished.”
“I understand, sir. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
“Good.”
The EMTs slammed the back doors shut.
“I’m sendin’ my deputy to stand guard over that man,” James W. said. “Sheriff’s orders.”
The EMTs nodded. “We’re headed for Brackenridge Hospital in Austin,” one yelled and jumped into the front of the ambulance. Almost immediately the vehicle was in gear, its siren wailing. Right behind, Richard Dube followed in the county’s squad car.
Angie headed for the black and white. “I’m going too.”
“Angie, wait up.” James W. trotted to her. “You told me about Matt bringin’ Shadow over to you and then you goin’ up on your balcony. You told me he stopped to wave at you, then Shadow barked. What did you see next?”
She didn’t want to stop to answer questions. She wanted to be at Matt’s side. However, she also wanted whoever did this caught. Holding her desperation in check, she turned to her half-brother. “Honestly, James W., I was runnin’ after Shadow to stop him. That’s when I heard the shots. Two of ‘em. Loud. But I was lookin’ at the dog, not at Matt. When I turned back to see if Matt was okay, he was layin’ on the ground.”
“Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
She shook her head. “I ran down the steps and was crossin’ the bridge when Aaron passed me up. He must’ve heard the shots. Hell, half the town should’ve heard them.”
“Did you see anybody else?” James W. asked.
“No, sir.” She ran to hop in the car with Richard Dube.
James W. nodded grimly. He had a pretty good idea who had tried to kill the preacher.
The same man who had killed Melinda, Diane and Owen.
At that moment Castleburry and Martens drove up and screeched to a halt beside the sheriff’s truck. “Fire’s under control, Sheriff,” Castleburry called out. “What do you want us to do now?”
“We’re goin’ over to Zach Gibbons’ place.” The sheriff walked to his truck. “Martens, put the M203 on your rifle.”
***
The two trucks parked at Dorothy Jo’s trailer—three homes in front of Zach’s place. James W.’s call had awoken the Ice House cook from a sound sleep, but she understood immediately that she was to stay put until he told her otherwise.<
br />
The three law officers huddled in front of her house to make their final plans.
James W. was in full sheriff mode. “Castleburry, circle around to the back and keep an eye out for Zach tryin’ to get away. Find cover and stay out of sight. Martens, set up by that big tree right there.” He pointed to a huge oak at the edge of Dorothy Jo’s back yard. “That should be about fifty feet. I’ll go towards those dumpsters on the left and do the talkin’. If he doesn’t come out, Martens, I’ll signal you to launch the tear gas. And everybody, take your masks with you.”
“Are you expectin’ him to put up a fight?” Martens asked.
“He’s already killed three people and just tried to kill a fourth. Hell, yes, I think he’s gonna put up a fight.”
The men separated. Castleburry took the long way around several trailers before heading to the back of Zach’s. Martens got in place as James W. ran toward the dumpsters, staying in the shadows of the trees along the way.
When James W. got the ready call from his deputies, he peeked around the rubbish bin and surveyed Zach’s house.
“Zach Gibbons!” he hollered finally. “Zach Gibbons, this is Sheriff James W. Novak. My men and I are here to arrest you for the murders of Melinda Platt, Diane Turpin and Owen Seegler. Come out slow, and keep your hands up.”
There was no reply from the trailer.
“Tom Gibbons! If you’re in there, come on out now, son, and you won’t be hurt!”
Still no answer.
Martens’ voice crackled over the radio. “Zach’s probably passed out drunk.”
“Maybe,” James W. replied. Or maybe that’s exactly what Zach wanted the law enforcement officers to think so they would leave their hiding places.
“Come on, Zach,” the sheriff called. “There’s no reason for anybody to get hurt here.”
The trailer remained dark and silent.
Murder in the Second Pew: A Pastor Matt Hayden Mystery Page 24