by Jon Mills
“Go on… suck it.”
He cocked the gun and tears began to stream down her face as her head bobbed back and forth over the gunmetal. He grinned in delight seeing the fear in her eyes. She had her hands up pleading for him to not pull the trigger. It came out as a garbled noise. Snot and tears mixed together and dripped off her face. He withdrew the revolver and tapped it on the side of her face.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you — yet.”
“I have a daughter. Please, Aaron, I beg of you.”
“That’s it, beg. Come on, beg for your life.”
She dropped down and rubbed her hands over his boots, getting her face close to them. He looked at the other two who were watching, their expressions full of bewilderment, excitement, perhaps concern? It was hard to tell. But he loved it. In town, he was just a face, a nobody, but here in this forest, he was God.
He kicked her face away from him. “You’re pathetic. Killing you would be doing your kid a favor. Who wants to grow up knowing their mother was a whore?”
She pleaded but her cries fell on deaf ears.
“What should I do with you?”
She crawled over, a task that wasn’t easy as her wrists and ankles were still bound. She raked at his jeans, pulling herself up onto her knees and trying to undo his zipper.
“Oh really. You think that’s going to make it all better, do you?”
He shoved her face away. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last gash on the planet but the boys would, wouldn’t you?”
He eyed them and motioned towards her. Billy swallowed hard and Dale shook his head.
“Go on. Do it. She wants it.”
Her cries grew louder as they pounced on her like wolves on a sheep. A flock of birds broke from the trees and Aaron walked away, pulling out his cigarettes.
Chapter 20
After visiting Karl Fraser, Jack headed towards New Hope Church. He recalled hearing the name Tim Mathers several times as he pored through Jenna’s files, and the church’s number was listed in her phone contacts. She’d made multiple calls in the days leading up to her disappearance. Now the calls could have been to her brother but from what he was able to glean from the snippets of information about Tim and his connection to the Green Bank Five, he figured there was more to it.
The church wasn’t far from Karl’s home. The journey had been filled with silent tension. Meghan was still fuming. As they approached, Jack could see the outline of the white spire against the forest. Other than that, the church was enveloped by its surroundings, mainly because it was small. Unlike some of the behemoth-sized churches in New York, this had none of the expensive details. The walls were made from clapboard siding, and though it appeared as if it had received a fresh lick of paint, the building still looked weathered. To the right of it, was another building, larger and longer, though equally in need of restoration.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Jack eased off the gas and parked out front.
“You should probably wait here,” Jack said hopping out.
The last thing he wanted was to agitate her any further. If any place was going to make her feel worthless, it would be the church. Of course, not all churches were like that, but small towns usually had narrow-minded attitudes. As much as they preached acceptance and love, sin was sin in their mind and some religious folks could tend to engage their mouths before they switched on their brains. Meghan had already filled him in on the way some electro-sensitive folks who had moved to Green Bank had been treated by the church.
“Sure,” she said pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Jack walked towards the entrance. He pulled the heavy door and stepped inside. Glancing around, he could see the place was being renovated. Scaffolding was erected at the far end near a stained-glass window. The floor had unfinished concrete, a few sections of drywall had been taken down, and the rest of the room was filled with pews. Besides the light filtering in through the stained-glass window, it was rather dark and dingy-looking — certainly not a place that he’d want to spend much time in. Off to the right was an upright piano, and ahead a pulpit.
His entrance didn’t go unnoticed. A tall man appeared off to the right from a room that looked to be the rectory or office area. It certainly didn’t look like the small size of the church had affected his pocket book. He wore a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and red tie. He had a chiseled jaw and a pleasant smile that would have disarmed even the most cautious. What remained of his hair was trimmed short at the sides, and he was holding a book in his hand when he stepped out of the shadows.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
The moment Jack saw him he remembered his face from the photos. Jenna had taken some of him with several women, and had snapped them leaving what looked to be a trailer, as well as a motel room.
“Pastor Tim Mathers?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Jack Winchester. I’m a friend of Jenna Whitmore.”
His mouth parted into a wide smile. “Oh, Jenna. Corey’s sister.” He shifted from his position and crossed the room to meet Jack. “How is she?”
“Corey hasn’t told you?”
He frowned. “I haven’t seen Corey in a day or two because he generally only comes in on weekends, and Tuesday evenings when we hold a Bible study.”
“She’s missing.”
His eyebrows arched and his jaw dropped. “That’s awful. I gather the police are looking into it?”
“They’re aware. Not sure if anything is being done.”
He took a few steps back trying to compose himself. “And you say, you’re a friend?”
“That’s right. I was hoping to have a few moments of your time. That is if you’re not busy.” He cast a gaze around the room.
“Renovations. A necessary evil,” he said with a half smile. “Costs a fortune but we have put it off far too long.” He paused for a second to take in the sight of his chapel. “Look, come on back. I’ll put some coffee on. You drink coffee?”
Jack gave a nod. He noticed the title of the book in his hands. It was related to medicine. Tim led him back into a cramped office. There was enough room for a table, two chairs and a bookshelf that was packed with religious books, and ones on counseling, drug addiction, and missions. He motioned to a comfy chair and Jack took a seat. Tim went over to a coffee maker and added water, and a filter before tipping a few tablespoons of coffee granules into it. On the desk in front of him was a framed portrait of his wife and three kids. She was seated, and they were surrounding her. Tim must have noticed what Jack was looking at, as he made a comment. “That’s my family. You married, Mr. Winchester?”
“No.”
“You have a lady in your life?”
“Not currently.”
His eyes scanned the room wondering why Jenna had an interest in this man. If Karl was right, and he was meeting prostitutes for sex, he wasn’t exactly a smart man. Most pastors were known in their community and with a population of only 143, surely he must have figured someone would eventually see him nipping into a local motel.
“So no children?”
“One but she lives with her mother.”
“I see,” he said nodding before taking a deep breath. “Divorce happens all the time. It’s too bad. It really messes up kids. They are always the ones that suffer the most.”
“We weren’t married.”
“Oh, I see.” He turned his attention back to the coffee maker.
“You have a good relationship with your wife, do you, Tim?”
He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I do. Been married twenty-four years this October.”
“They say the secret to a good marriage is a healthy sex life. Would you agree?” Jack asked without even breaking a smile. He stifled a chuckle wondering how he would take the question. Would it put him on edge? Cause him to blush?
Tim replied without missing a beat. “Oh, there’s more to it than that. I mean, what happens when that’s gone?”
“Who knows? I’m sure people find an outlet.”
Tim stared at him as if trying to decode what he was saying before breaking his gaze and pouring out two cups. He brought over some milk and sugar and placed it before him. He cleared his throat. “Do you live in Marlinton, Jack? I haven’t seen you around these parts.”
“No. Just here for a visit.”
He walked back to his desk and took a seat.
“And you say Jenna is missing?”
“That’s right. Did you know she was investigating the murders of the Green Bank Five?”
“Um. I think Corey mentioned it. Jenna doesn’t attend church as much as she used to.”
“You think something might have put a bad taste in her mouth?” Jack asked, prodding him in the hopes of making him feel uncomfortable. He was curious to see how he would react, and how he handled himself before strangers. Tim sipped at his drink before putting it down.
“She didn’t see eye to eye with the work we are doing here.”
Jack frowned. “With troubled women?”
He’d spotted a three-fold pamphlet advertising counseling on the counter. It had been cheaply made.
“That’s right. We have a building across the way that we use to house those who are looking to get their lives back on track but are having some difficulty.”
Jack gazed down at his coffee. “That’s odd. By all accounts, I got the impression that she was very concerned for the welfare of such women.”
Tim quickly shifted the topic back to him.
“Do you work in the media, Mr. Winchester?”
“No, but I do assist in getting to the truth if that’s what you’re alluding to?”
He cleared his throat again. It almost sounded as if he had something stuck in it.
“The truth of?”
Jack leaned forward and placed his cup on the table before him. As much as he didn’t want to take an approach that would cause whoever was responsible to bolt, he knew he was pressed for time. With the trouble he’d had at the bar, and the officer looking for him, he didn’t think it would be long before he would be dragged in. Besides, if someone had taken Jenna, who knew if she was still alive or not. He stood up and walked over to a window and gazed out. He was about to drop the ball on him when he noticed out the back, nestled into the forest, was the same silver trailer with a gold band around it.
“What’s that out there?”
“What?”
“The trailer.”
“Oh, it’s used for counseling sessions.”
“I would imagine you would do those in here or the building across the way.”
“No. Like I said, the building is used for housing and we tend to get a number of visitors dropping in here throughout the day. The trailer provides privacy. A safe place where they can open up.”
Open up. I bet they do, he thought.
He turned and sucked in air between his teeth. “Let’s cut the crap, Tim. You and I both know that Jenna thought you had something to do with the disappearance and murders of the Green Bank Five.”
“What?”
“That trailer out there. She has photos of you going in and out with several women, some of whom ended up dead.”
He chuckled a little. “I think you have misunderstood what I do.”
“I know what you do, or should I say, what you have done.” Jack leaned against the table placing both hands on it. Tim moved back in his seat. “What did you tell Jenna? There were numerous phone calls to this place on the days leading up to her disappearance. So what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t answer her phone calls. After the first accusation that she made against me, I forgave her. But when she started pointing the finger at me for having some involvement in the disappearance of those women, that’s where I drew the line.”
“You forgave her?”
“That’s right I did.”
“Then how come your name came up as a person of interest in the case at the time of the disappearance? Was it anything to do with what Karl Fraser had to say? You know, the part about you getting serviced by multiple women at the Lodge on the Edge of Green Bank?”
The color in his face vanished only to be replaced by red cheeks.
“I’m sure your wife would be really interested to know why you were seeing these women. Or was the lodge a ‘safe place’ for getting them to open up to you?”
He gritted his teeth.
“How dare you come in here and insinuate that I would be unfaithful to my wife. I’ve never been anywhere near that place.”
“I’m not insinuating anything.”
Jack pulled out his cell phone and powered it on. With a few flicks of the finger, he brought up one of the many photos that he’d transferred. He held it out in front of his face and swiped back and forth so he could get a good view of the shots.
“You want to explain? Did you kill the Green Bank Five because they rejected your advances? Or were they going to speak out against you? Is that why, Tim?”
Tim clenched his jaw then rose from his seat. “I think we are done here. Please leave.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving until I get some answers. Take a seat.”
Tim stared at him for a second then went for the landline phone. Jack reacted fast and slammed his hand down on top of his, preventing him from lifting the receiver.
“Tell me the truth.”
A look of fear crossed his face. When he didn’t answer, Jack reached around and pulled out his Glock, grabbed him by the throat and lunged, forcing him back against the far wall before placing the gun against the side of his temple. “I’ve had enough of people wasting my time. Now I’m gonna give you one more opportunity to tell me the truth or I’ll—”
“Alright. Alright! I had sex with a few escorts but I don’ t know anything about the Green Bank Five or the disappearance of Jenna. I swear. I mean I knew a few of the women and I had several people point fingers at me. Yeah, sure. But that comes with the territory when you are trying to minister. It doesn’t matter if they are escorts or housewives. My job puts me in a precarious position where anyone is capable of saying that I did something or said something. You ask any pastor in this country, and they’ll say the same.”
“And yet you’re married.”
“My… my wife is… disabled.”
“Huh! I’ve heard a lot of excuses in my time but that one is fresh.”
“I’m serious. She was in a car accident six years ago, she’s paralyzed from the waist down.” He reached over to the shelf behind him for another photo frame that showed her in a wheelchair. “She can’t…”
He was unable to finish.
“Oh well, that just makes it all better.” He let out a chuckle. “So let me guess, the missus has given you her blessing to go and screw a few women behind her back. Is that how this works? Or did God give you the green light?”
He looked as if he was about to respond but then tears welled up in his eyes. He cast his gaze down. Jack studied his face. A look of shame, embarrassment, and guilt washed over it. Was this guy capable of killing women? It was possible. He’d seen all types over his years. The best were able to put up one hell of an act. Hide their transgressions from family, friends, and spouses. Either way, it was pathetic. Jack removed the gun from the side of his head and tucked it back into his waistband as Tim turned into a blubbering mess.
“Stop crying.”
Jack reached over and grabbed up a few tissues and threw them at him. Tim wiped his face before all the excuses began to roll over his lips. “I know it was wrong. I tried to get help but what am I meant to do? This is my whole life. I would have been ruined if this got out. You know I tried to stop but I…”
“You just couldn’t do it. And let me guess, none of your church members know either, so you just continue ministering to those wayward women hoping that one day you’ll be able to forgive yourself as much as God forgives you.”
“He does.”
“You sure
about that, pastor?”
He looked down at the ground and shook his head. It seemed as if it was a little too overwhelming.
“I care. I really do.”
Jack walked back to the desk. “Oh, I bet you do. Then why didn’t you respond to her phone messages?”
“Because she threatened to tell my wife, and the rest of the church if I didn’t resign. I can’t have that. I just can’t.”
“And then she goes missing. How convenient.”
Jack tapped the desk a few times with his hand, picked up the framed photo of his family and slung it down in front of him before getting up. “Nice family. They deserve better. Now how about you show me what’s inside that silver trailer out back.”
Chapter 21
Later that afternoon, Merle woke from his drunken slumber, completely unsure of where he was. He rolled to one side and took in his surroundings. It was clear he was behind bars and that only sent his mind into a rage. Slowly, bits and pieces of the morning came back to him. He recalled not opening the garage, Aaron getting a phone call, and hitting the bottle sometime around ten… after that, it was all a blur, nothing but fragments of arguing with cops, the smell of vomit in the back seat of a car and waking up.
He wasn’t going back to jail again. Hell no. Not for his brother. Not for anyone.
The thought of being locked up, dealing with sudden fights in the pen and trying to survive around the clock sent a shiver through him. He’d rather die than endure that.
He rolled off the hard bed and worked out the tension in his neck before staggering over to the steel bars that were painted in a thick cream paint. He was shaky on his feet. The number of times he’d ended up here while growing up were too many to count.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Shut the hell up,” a gruff voice answered from a cell just down from him.
He looked up at the camera just beyond the bars, and made a few gestures with his arms, hoping to get their attention. Getting no response he relieved himself at the tiny steel toilet. Now that all the liquid courage was out of his system, he was anxious, overwhelmed and unable to process it all.