As Sarah prepared to see Reverend Thomas, she put on fresh make-up, the birthday perfume Zach bought for her last year, and a blouse she usually rejected because the bust was a little snug. Sarah evoked a strange sex appeal to men who liked compliant and willing women. Being young and married had previously necessitated her behavior and looks to some degree: never too sexy, but never homely and plain. Pete had dictated everything, from her dress to her hygiene.
Meanwhile, Zach was particularly chipper as he got dressed that morning. He hated the reverend and wanted to touch his pasty skin after the warm blood had seeped out of his body.
Sarah told Pete and Olivia that she had to go grocery shopping and also stop by the office, accounting for the hours she would be gone. At 1:55 pm, she parked at the church and headed inside for her appointment. Sarah’s footsteps on the old wooden floors sounded ominous as she made her way to the reverend’s office. She was nervous, yet determined to carry out God’s desire for her to avenge and protect her daughter.
“Hello, Sarah,” Reverend Thomas said and appeared delighted to have Sarah in his presence. “Sit right here by me. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” she said. Sarah sat down across from him and tried to force tears but was unsuccessful. She wanted the reverend to think she was distraught and could easily be taken advantage of.
“Now, how can your reverend help you?” he asked.
Sarah leaned toward him and Reverend Thomas, in turn, leaned toward Sarah.
“May I have a hug?” Sarah asked, her voice barely audible. “I think I just need a hug.”
Reverend Thomas patted his knees and said, “Sometimes, all it takes is a little affection, and I certainly have affection for you.” Sarah despised this man even more.
She smiled, leaning forward to show her ample bust. Reverend Thomas was beginning to breathe faster. Sarah thought about how she never wanted to hear his breath again.
The reverend reached toward Sarah’s blouse, eyeing her breasts. His hand was moving toward her right nipple when Sarah pulled back just enough to tantalize him.
“Excuse me, sir. I need to get a tissue from my purse,” she feigned.
Reverend Thomas grunted, a bit irritated and afraid Sarah would back out of their sexual encounter.
Sarah reached in her purse, simultaneously pulling out the knife and plunging it into his throat. The pastor gurgled and reached toward her, grasping at her. Sarah stood up and stepped out of reach, laughing at him. The struggling Reverend Thomas got to his feet, blood spurting on his white robe and surrounding furniture and books. He was wobbly and looked ready to collapse at any moment.
Arms extended toward Sarah, the reverend fell against his desk and knocked over a small Jesus figurine.
“Pray, you bastard,” Sarah hissed. “You are not a man of God. You’re a hypocrite and a sinner. God directed me to kill you and make the world a better place. Die, you scum!”
Sarah was calm as the church office grew quiet. She knew from previous experience that after a few gurgles and forced breaths, the body’s heart and brain die and the quiet takes over. Sarah stepped outside the office and called for Zach, who was hiding in the men’s room as planned.
“You ready?” he asked Sarah when he saw her. He was anxious.
“Yes,” Sarah affirmed. “The deed is done.”
Zach entered the reverend’s office and surveyed the scene. “Not bad, county investigator. You deserve a promotion,” he joked.
“Wear these gloves so we won’t leave fingerprints,” Sarah said, pulling two plastic sets of gloves out of her purse.
Sarah was ready to finish the job.
An old blanket Zach had stuffed in his bag worked perfectly to wrap the body while carrying it to the baptismal pool. Sarah had brought three sharp kitchen knives.
“I want his dick,” she told Zach, who seemed disappointed. “You can cut off his balls.”
“What should we do with them?” Zach asked. He often lacked creativity and looked to Sarah for instructions.
“Let’s feed them to the wild dogs around town,” she suggested.
Sarah and Zach began sawing the scrotum. Blood was plentiful and began covering their gloves.
“Shit, this is messy,” Zach complained. He had a high sensitivity to cleanliness.
“Just keep going,” Sarah insisted, impatient in case someone should saunter in and catch them with the body.
***
On Saturday morning, Henry packed up and paid the remaining bill to a young man who had taken the clerk’s place from the day before. “Where you off to, mister?” he asked politely.
Henry was getting weary of all the questions these West Texas people asked.
“I’m headed to Amarillo. I heard it’s nice there,” he forced himself to say.
“Not as nice as here,” the clerk persisted. “It’s dusty and ugly. Here, at least we have some tall, green trees and the riverbed.”
“Well, I guess that’s good,” Henry said and walked back to the room to get Becky. She was eating a candy bar left over from last night. “Let’s go, little one,” Henry called out.
Becky smiled. Sometimes she liked Henry, but other times she wanted to kill him.
***
Reverend Thomas’ robe was now crimson from the blood spattered around his crotch after Sarah and Zach finished their handiwork.
“Let’s get him on that altar,” Sarah said. “I want the entire congregation to see him for what he really was. Satan’s bastard!”
Zach began rolling his body in the same bloody blanket. Sarah hoisted one end and Zach the other. They crossed the immaculate church floor and dragged his body past the pews, finally stopping at the tall, wooden cross that had been erected on the altar a few years ago. Nothing was as gorgeous and poignant as the cross on Easter. This spring the Reverend Thomas wouldn’t be at church to pick out a new young and defenseless girl to prey on.
Hoisting the body up to the beams was difficult. Finally, Zach laid the cross on its side and began to tie the body to it with some rope he’d brought.
The county cops proved a formidable team, finally hanging the lifeless church leader on the cross. They steadied it with two large wooden tables pushed together on each side. Blood stains were apparent in the body’s groin area. The reverend’s arms hung limp beside his wounds, his chin resting on his chest. Zach placed the forged letter on a table directly in front of the corpse while Sarah deposited the knives and other evidence into a cheap plastic bag.
Relieved, Sarah hugged Zach. “I love you like a son,” she told him.
“I love you like my grandmother,” he quipped before adding, “I meant...a sister!”
According to their rehearsed script, Sarah left the church first. She calmly got in her car and went home. Zach was to wait until sundown to leave. He would stay close enough to the altar to see if anybody entered the church. If someone did come in, they had discussed that Zach should run out the back and hide in the woods.
He had walked to the church, so no one could report seeing his motorcycle there. As far as others knew, he had no reason to kill Reverend Thomas, nor did Sarah. He was her family pastor. Besides, a small woman like her could never hoist such a big man on a cross and certainly neither could a skinny boy like Zach.
Sarah would attend Sunday school the next morning, as usual. There she would hear the reaction to the horrific death of the town’s prominent pastor. There would be girls and women in the congregation he’d probably molested, but it was doubtful if they’d ever come forward with the truth. Small towns are unforgiving to women for many trespasses, but sexual acts (regardless of whose fault it was) almost always caused the woman to be scorned. Fairness never entered the equation.
9
On 7:00 am Sunday morning Sarah’s pager buzzed. A pang of fear entered her body when she realized no one had called her yet to report the murder. Was she already a suspect? Guilt and panic tried to creep into Sarah’s psyche when she looked at
the number. It was her boss, the Montague County Sheriff. Having had little sleep during the night, Sarah felt edgy and nervous. She called him back immediately.
“Well, Sarah, it seems there’s been a big crime in our little town last night,” Will said.
“What?” Sarah asked, sounding shocked.
“Someone killed the Methodist minister and goddamn castrated him,” the sheriff said, disgust in his voice.
“Reverend Thomas?” Sarah questioned again. “Why would they castrate him?”
“Hell if I know, but you’d better get down there and see what kind of fucking mess we have on our hands,” he ordered. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, sir,” Sarah agreed. “Do you know who found him?”
“A poor old lady. It was her turn to bring refreshments early for the congregation,” he explained. “They say she’s about to have a nervous breakdown. See if you can calm her down. You’re better at that than me. You know to retrieve any evidence you can find, yeah?”
“Yes, sir, I will,” Sarah said and hung up, realizing she was pretty much safe now. The only thing she might have to deal with is if anybody saw her go into the church on Saturday afternoon. Maybe she would have to plant some evidence. The only thing she knew for sure was that she better go to the crime scene right now.
She slipped downstairs to tell Pete where she was going. Pete Sears was not stupid, so she would need to be careful as she concocted her story. “Pete,” she said, “if you feel pretty good, may I bring you some cereal and milk? You should rest while I go to church.”
“Why are you taking your gun?” he asked, eyeing Sarah’s holster.
“There’s been a murder at the church, and I need to investigate,” Sarah said.
“Who got killed?”
“The reverend,” Sarah said, trying to be matter-of-fact.
Pete still had no memory of the night he was attacked, including any details about the reverend and his involvement with their daughter. But something about Sarah’s demeanor this morning made him briefly wonder if his wife was involved, but it was beyond his comprehension that she could kill anybody. She probably met some unsavory characters through her job, but she’d never hire a hitman.
“Sarah,” Pete said firmly and looked directly into his wife’s eyes, attempting to read her face. “Did you have anything to do with his murder?”
Sarah Sears had always been truthful to a fault with her husband, and she believed what had happened yesterday was God’s way. She had to chance it that Pete could keep her secret. As mean as he’d been during their twenty-odd years together, she still trusted her husband. But now was not the time.
“Pete, when I come home, we need to talk,” she told him.
Pete instinctively knew at that moment his wife was involved, but he could not imagine why or how. He felt no sorrow for the minister, but he did fear for his wife. Pete Sears realized that he wanted to protect her and their family. This he would do.
***
Sarah saw Zach’s motorcycle in the office parking lot on the way to church.
“What are you doing here on a Sunday?” she asked him when she walked in and saw him organizing files.
“I’m working on my alibi,” he said and chuckled, a little too cocky. “I’ve been here working all weekend. The town is already abuzz about the murder!” he added.
“Zach, now’s the time to keep our mouths shut,” Sarah told him. “Promise me that forever this is our special secret.”
Zach knew if he slipped up, he could lose his only friend. “You got it, Sarah, to my grave!”
“Thank you, son. Or maybe nephew. Either way, I love you!” she bantered with him and left for the church.
Sarah pulled slowly into the church parking lot and gasped when she saw the ambulance blocking the entrance to the front door.
She profoundly believed that God had selected her to perform his retribution, but she wondered if perhaps she had been sloppy. Or maybe Zach made a mistake and left fingerprints. Someone could have noticed either one of them leaving the crime scene the day before.
Stepping out of her police car, Sarah hurried to the men carrying a gurney to the ambulance. She had a clear view of a white sheet wrapped around a corpse.
“What happened?” Sarah demanded to know.
“Someone butchered Reverend Thomas,” answered Larry Stout, the most talkative of the paramedics.
“They castrated him!” Larry added. He was bewildered. The other medics were quiet in their disbelief.
The congregation was beginning to assemble in the churchyard, adding to the overwhelming stress of the situation. Whispers, shrieks, and cries emanated from the crowd. Old women were hugging each other as men shook their heads. The adults were attempting to keep the children away from the scene. There was an occasional outcry. Pastors were leaders of the community, not murder victims.
Sarah observed the crowd but tried to stay close to the ambulance workers. She didn’t want to interact with the worshipers.
Sheriff Will pulled his vehicle onto the black tar surface of the parking lot, swinging open his car door. Sarah eyed him walking toward her and the crowd. He spied her and nodded as she approached him, Sarah trying to appear shocked yet in control.
“Sarah, have you investigated inside the church?”
“No, sir, I just got here,” she offered.
“Well, let’s go in there,” he said briskly.
Sarah was sordidly aware of her demeanor. She played her part well, displaying anger, resolve, and shock. “This is how a country investigator should act in the face of a community,” she reminded herself.
Sarah knew from her studies that one’s mind plays games with reality when it has earlier deviated from normal behavior. She saw her church in a detached, unfamiliar way, as though through a stranger’s eyes. The familiar building now had an ominous look with its large, wood-carved angels placed on each side of the blood-soaked altar. The holy men appeared to be staring directly at Sarah.
She shook her head and looked away.
There was already a stench. The scene shocked Sarah, even though she was its maker.
“Hard to believe anyone would be so brutal and demented,” Will offered his thoughts as he looked around.
“Sarah, control yourself!” she commanded quietly. “God was your partner in this deed, and God may need you again. You and God have overcome another Satan worshiper. The preacher was a direct emissary of the devil. You did the right thing!”
Sheriff Will interrupted her silent conversation and said, “Sarah, take care of the evidence here if you find any. This is disgusting. The press will be calling, so I’m going to the office. Call me if you find anything interesting.”
The sheriff walked away, his head lowered.
Sarah saw the ambulance leave the churchyard. She looked at it through a distant lens, half-smirking. “Goodbye, Satan. God and I won again!” she told herself.
Sarah scoured the scene, making sure there was nothing to point to her or Zach. They were a capable team. She never worried that Zach might fold under pressure. Zach had long planned his retribution for those who had bullied him and would not consider burning his able accomplice. He hated any person with the power to discriminate against and intimidate him. Reverend Thomas certainly demonstrated this type of control.
The local cops arrived next, sirens blaring. The crowd was now overcome with emotion, and gawkers tried to get close to the scene. Every person wanted to remember the details of all that happened and would likely share them with neighbors and friends for years to come. A castrated pastor was an enticing story, one that would live on for decades. Curiosity and gossip would overtake the little town.
Sarah knew she’d need to be a good actor to maintain her innocence. Her natural shyness and reticence to engage with others would play in her favor. As long as the sheriff allowed her to conduct the investigation, she’d remain on solid ground.
Satisfied she’d covered her tracks, Sarah approached
the senior church deacon named Mr. Dearing and said, “The paramedics took the body to the coroner’s office, and I need to file a report. Are you getting a cleanup crew for the blood and mess?”
Sarah was injecting reality into the unbelievable scene, and the deacon just stared at her. Again, Sarah secretly prayed she could maintain her calm.
“What?” Mr. Dearing asked and looked at Sarah blankly. He seemed in a trance, trying to escape the situation.
“Mr. Dearing, you will need to get the church secured and cleaned up,” Sarah ordered. Just then, the two Nocona police officers approached Sarah and the deacon.
“Boy,” Bill Dean, the older of the two cops, said. “Somebody really hated the preacher. I’ve never even seen a deer butchered this bad!”
Sarah nodded and walked toward the door to leave. Deacon Dearing continued talking with the police. She needed to get away from this place; her psyche was beginning to control her actions.
Later in the day, Sarah went to the hospital morgue where the body was being held until an autopsy could be performed. “I need to speak with the attending doctor here,” Sarah told Nurse Betty who happened to be working the floor that day.
“Go ahead. He’s in his office,” she replied.
Sarah went down the hallway and knocked on the office door.
“Come in,” the doctor called, and Sarah could see he was taking notes.
“I’m Sarah Sears, county investigator in charge of this crime. Do you have any comments?”
The doctor looked up at her and frowned. “Whoever did this was an amateur. They used a common kitchen knife. I even think it was a woman.”
Twisted Retribution Page 18