“Something terrible?”
“No, not that I can tell. I can’t talk about it much as I’m still at the station. I’ll bring it over tonight for you to see.”
“Yeah, about tonight, I got stuck doing the Wednesday night supper and Bible study, so you will have to come over later. Is that okay?”
“How about I just come to the church dinner. Do you mind?”
I sat silent for a moment as I tried to grasp what she’d just said.
“Aidan, is that okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course it is. Be here at six. Food’s not bad. We get it from a local catering company.”
“Sounds good. I haven’t had anything real in the past few days, just fast food salads.”
“Well, I can promise you better than that.”
“I hope so.”
“See you tonight.”
I hung up the phone, my mind in a whirl. What were Jennifer’s motives? Was she into me? Or was this a cop thing, trying to get more information, playing the subject like some hot, James Bond chick. Seduce the guy, get the information you need, and then move on. And did I even really care?
Chapter Fourteen
I went home and changed into respectable clothing: a blue blazer and khaki pants — the unofficial outfit of Presbyterian ministers everywhere. You could go to a General Assembly of our denomination and wonder if there had been a midnight madness sale at Banana Republic.
I got back to the office and threw together a lesson for the Wednesday night study. Jennifer arrived at quarter to six and knocked on my door.
“Aidan, are you busy?”
I typed in the final words for my lesson. “No, come in, just finished. Let me print this out.”
The temptation to stare hit full force. Jennifer wore a red turtleneck sweater and black slacks. Her black hair hung to her shoulders like Solomon’s flock of goats, and I dared not even think about the “two fawns, twins of a gazelle.” I knew tonight’s lesson would be a disaster with my staring at her all evening.
“How is the lesson coming?” She asked as she leaned against my bookcase.
“It may not be very good, but what do you expect with three hours’ notice on my day off?”
“How come your boss bailed?”
I fought to keep from clenching my jaw. “Not sure really. Probably family stuff. He didn’t really say.”
She nodded. “How many people usually come to this dinner?”
“About seventy-five. We have three-hundred in the church, but everyone is busy during the week. Kids’ sports practices and all that,” I said, standing up. “Usually, our youth minister handles the duties, but he’s on vacation. I don’t normally have to be here.”
“You don’t have to go?”
“No, but I usually do anyway if I haven’t gone hiking,” I said, gesturing to the hiking books on my shelf.
“I haven’t gotten into hiking much,” she said, standing up straight. She folded her arms across her chest.
“You should. Now, shall we go and feast on processed catered food?”
As we walked to the hall, I realized I probably should have warned Jennifer about the possibility that everyone would think we were dating. But then I figured they’d be discreet and not assume anything. Why would they?
Sometimes, I could be so clueless about people it scared me.
As soon as we walked into the hall, one of our blue hairs, Mrs. Templeton, came up to us.
“Oh, Aidan, such a pretty young lady you have found for yourself! When did you start dating? Any wedding plans?”
I felt my face heat up as if I’d had two glasses of whiskey. “Um, no, Mrs. Templeton. This is Detective Jennifer Brown, from the Columbus Police Department. She is, um, interested in our church.” I looked sideways at Jennifer. She had a little smile on her face.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Templeton,” Jennifer said, shaking her hand.
“Oh! Thank you, dear. You are very beautiful. Did you notice that, Aidan?”
Jennifer smirked in my direction.
“Um, yes she is,” I fumbled.
Mrs. Templeton grabbed my hands. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry about Amanda. It’s awful. I saw it on the news.”
I always wondered who taught Mrs. Templeton tact.
“Thank you. And yes, it is awful.”
I could almost feel Jennifer’s eye searching my face. I began to tear up and fought it. I should have expected they would want to talk about Amanda.
Mrs. Templeton walked away as Jennifer put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t look at her. “No, not really. But I’d like to avoid situations like that.”
I walked Jennifer over to a table, and she began talking with the Lutzes, a nice family that had just moved to Columbus. As the crowd poured in, I tried to look busy until six o’clock.
“Okay,” I called out. “Let’s sit down for a moment.”
The people came together in good Presbyterian fashion, decent and in order. I took a deep breath. “Before we start, I would like to make a prayer request.”
Everyone stared at me in complete silence. I wondered if they knew what I was about to say. Even though I no longer believed in the power of prayer, I thought this was the best way to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
“As most of you know already, my ex-fiancée, Amanda McDougal, was recently murdered.” I paused. “There are no suspects at this time, and police are not releasing a lot of details. So I would ask that Bill, if you are willing, please pray for Amanda’s family and friends, as well as our time together tonight.”
Bill, always in tune with people’s emotional needs, stood up next to me.
“Absolutely, Pastor Aidan.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s pray.”
Everyone bowed their heads as Bill laid out one of the most heartfelt and beautiful prayers I’d ever heard. I felt sick to my stomach and could barely stand.
Why is my grief coming in waves like this? Why couldn’t last night have been enough?
“…And be with Aidan and help him minister to us tonight. Amen.”
Everyone either gave me a look of sympathy or stared at Jennifer as they made their way to the tables. She whispered to me out of the corner of her mouth, “They all think I’m your date.”
“I know, and I’m not going to stop them from thinking that.”
“Why is that?” She smiled.
“Because then I won’t get fixed up with every single girl they know.”
It had become pretty common practice in evangelical churches to think that single people need to be married. That rule was especially true when that single person was the assistant pastor.
I tried to concentrate on my food and talk with Jennifer, but I couldn’t focus. I actually felt relieved to get up and start the lesson as the plates were cleared, and the kids were dismissed to their Wednesday night classes.
I stood up. “Okay, everyone, let’s take out our Bibles and turn to Acts. Pastor Mike is under the weather tonight so I will be taking over our study. Now, as you might have talked about last week, Peter was thrown in jail. And this week we see his…”
Ernest, one our eldest members raised his hand.
“I’m sorry, Ernest, did you have a question?”
“Yes, I was wondering if you could tell us something.”
“Sure, Ernest, what’s up?”
“What does the Bible say about ghosts?”
I looked at Jennifer. She stared at me with arms folded.
“I, uh, am not sure … why do you ask?”
“Well, strange things I’ve been hearin’ lately from some friends, like footprints in their yard and all.”
Olan. He and Ernest were hunting buddies.
“Um, well, truthfully, Ernest, that is probably a whole other lesson in and of itself. We need to stick with the text for tonight.
“You avoidin’ my question?” He glared at me with green eyes that still held the authority of an army colonel. I felt everyone
staring at me. A few of them bent forward in their seats.
“Oh no, it’s just that we need to stick with the text for our discussion.”
“It’s in our text, right in the verses, talkin’ about Peter’s ghost. Did they think that was possible?”
He had me. I totally overlooked this verse in my preparations for the night. This sort of thing happened all the time, preachers focusing on the big idea and missing the things people would be most curious about, like Peter’s ghost. Or in the case of this passage, what the Christians in Acts thought was Peter’s ghost.
I imagined Jennifer could tell I was in trouble because she gave me a little smile. Whether it was of encouragement or mockery, I couldn’t tell.
“Ah, right. Good point. Well, let’s take a look at this passage. First, it isn’t really Peter’s ghost. It’s Peter himself. He hadn’t died.”
“Still avoidin’,” Ernest said. In spite of his age, I wanted to throw a Bible at him.
“Now, hold on, give me a chance. It wouldn’t be good to assume they believed in ghosts just because of their assumptions.”
“Why not?” asked Mary, a forty-year-old soccer mom who made studying theology one of her many hobbies. “Seems like it would take some belief in spirits for them to mistake Peter for his ghost.”
The conversation started to get out of hand, and some of the elders shifted in their seats. They all had expressions of discomfort and confusion. No one liked the topic at all. I certainly didn’t, especially with my newfound disbelief in all of this.
“Well, that may be true, but just because they believed it, doesn’t mean the Bible teaches we should believe in ghosts. Luke is merely telling the story as it happened. There are a number of passages in Acts that do the same thing, describe what happened, but do not prescribe it for the life of Christians today.”
I gave them the textbook seminary avoidance tactic. My professors would be proud.
“But what does it mean to be asleep in Christ or with him in death? What does that look like?” Mary asked. “Couldn’t that leave room open for the dead to visit us?”
The whole room buzzed with an excitement I had rarely heard before. Usually, when Mike taught, the room was full of respectable silence. Now, everyone talked at once. Jennifer looked around and gave a small, sympathetic smile as if she knew I had no answers to these questions.
“Listen, I’ll be honest. I didn’t have much time to get ready for tonight, so I didn’t prepare a talk on ghosts in the Bible. I came prepared to talk about Christ’s faithfulness to Peter even when he was being persecuted. That’s really the main point of the passage. We have to be faithful to the Word.”
The good Presbyterian mantra seemed to pacify everyone, except Mary and Ernest. Their faces wore the expression that all pastors knew too well. A look that said, “We now know you don’t have all the answers, so we probably won’t listen to anything else you say.” I plowed ahead with the teaching that lost attraction for everyone in the room. They listened, but I doubted anyone took in a word I said. I didn’t even pay attention to myself. I wanted to be out of there.
At the end of the lesson, the obligatory “good job” and “great word” comments came my way, which I knew were scandalous lies.
After the room cleared out, Jennifer walked over to me and touched my arm. “Good talk. I learned a lot.”
“Isn’t it against the law for cops to lie?”
“No, because that’s how we get half of our confessions. Ready to go?”
“Never been more ready. Let’s get out of here.”
We drove to my house with Jennifer following me, and I pulled into my parking spot. Thankfully, the snow had buried the footprints.
“Do you rent or own?” Jennifer asked, arms tight around herself as she waited for me to unlock the door.
“Own. Bought it shortly after the church hired me.”
“It’s really nice. I actually drive by here all the time on my way to work. I’ve wondered how much these places cost. Do you mind me asking?”
I opened the door, and we walked in. “I got it pretty cheap, and it increased in value until the housing market circled the drain. If I sold it now, I would break even at a hundred and fifty thousand.”
She nodded. Bishop barked a greeting. I let him out, and he nearly tackled Jennifer. I grabbed his collar. “Sorry, he is usually better-behaved.”
“I don’t mind. I love dogs,” she said, rubbing Bishops head and patting his side. “Can I take him out?”
“Yeah, of course, go for it. Do you want any coffee or anything?”
“No thanks, too late for that.”
“How about a beer?”
“Hmm, what would the congregation do if they knew their sweet, single assistant pastor had beer in his fridge?”
“Probably join me. Heck, most of them brew as a hobby.”
Jennifer took Bishop out, and I poured two beers. I sat down in the living room and opened my laptop to check my email. My instant messenger came up, and Brian was on.
Hey, what’s up dude? he wrote.
Not much. Jennifer the cop is here.
Right there with you?
No, she’s out walking Bishop.
Wow, you have reached walking the dog stage! When is the wedding?
Shut up, you ass. She’s here to show me some evidence. It’s pure business.
I made a face at the computer screen.
Right, Brian wrote, I know, but still, you can’t deny that you seem attracted to her.
I’m not denying anything, but yesterday, she thought I could be a murderer.
Footsteps came up to the door with a light thud. Hey, man, got to run. She is coming back.
Take care, man.
“How was the walk?” I asked as they came inside. Bishop trotted up to me and put his head in my lap.
“Freezing. I hate when dogs can’t make up their mind.”
“I know, and Bishop is worse than most.”
Jennifer sat down right next to me, her leg touching mine. She had that out-in-the-cold smell. I forced myself to concentrate on business.
“Good, you have your computer up. Put this in,” she said, handing me a CD.
“I’m guessing this is an illegal copy?” I asked, putting the disk into the drive.
“Of course it is,” she said, smiling. “But Weaver gave me permission to show it to you. I told him about Nebo, and he was more than willing to let you see these. He told me that if you talked to the press, he would personally shoot you.”
I chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. I know the drill. Any leaked information could hurt the investigation. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
She stared at me. “You still love her, don’t you?”
“I did. Do I still? That is more difficult to answer.”
I avoided her eyes. With a few taps on the keyboard, the disk revealed a yellow folder entitled Nebo. My finger hovered over the mouse. I couldn’t bring myself to click on the file.
“Aidan? Are you okay?” Jennifer asked, touching my shoulder.
I took a deep breath. “Just hoping that I’ll know what these pictures show.”
“Me too. Remember, there’s nothing disturbing on them. If there was, I wouldn’t show them to you, for your sake and the sake of the investigation.”
I nodded, but my heart raced. My hands shook as I clicked on the file. Pictures of oak and spruce woods filled the screen. Some of the pictures contained a gravel crossroads. I squinted at the images. “I don’t get it. It’s just trees and a road. This could be anywhere in the eastern United States.”
“Why do you say that?” Jennifer asked as she leaned closer to the screen.
“Well, the trees are all pretty common in this part of the country. And as for old gravel roads, there are probably hundreds in Ohio alone. One thing is for sure though…” I enlarged one of the pictures.
Jennifer leaned forward. “Wait, what’s that?”
I rotated the picture. Someone had s
craped a huge smiley face in the gravel.
“More smiley faces,” she whispered.
Goosebumps crawled up my arms.
“We’ve been checking on known serial killings, and none of them had any smiley face connection. This is a new pattern and probably a new killer.”
“Killer? A serial killer? I mean, I know I’m not a cop, but this seems to be something else, don’t you think?”
“You mean the footprints too, right?”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Footprints, Amanda hanging from a cross, it just seems, I don’t know, ritualistic, I guess.”
“Serial killers are ritualistic,” Jennifer said in a flat tone as if she was trying to convince herself.
“Maybe, but I just can’t help but feel there’s something we’re missing.”
She scoffed. “There is a lot we are missing, in case you couldn’t tell.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes while we stared at the pictures.
“Wait a second,” I said. “Amanda is from Athens, Ohio. She liked to go back there to hike in the hills around the city. It could be a picture from one of those hikes.”
“Didn’t she hike in other places?”
“No, she didn’t. Well, at least not day hikes. She felt that southeastern Ohio was the most beautiful part of the state.”
“I agree on that one. My dad likes to hunt in that area,” she said. “But couldn’t this have been a trip to Pennsylvania or West Virginia?”
I shrugged. “Could be. You’ll have to ask her mom whether she took any hiking trips recently.” I right clicked on the file and looked at the properties tab. “The date says December 12th.”
Jennifer nodded. “We noticed that. Do you see anything else?”
“No, that’s about all I can come up with.”
She nodded. “I should probably go.”
We stood up, and I walked her toward the door. She turned and looked me in the eye. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go for it,” I said, trying to avoid her gaze. I stared at Bishop who had lain down on his big pillow.
“Why didn’t you answer those people’s questions about ghosts in the Bible?”
I shrugged. “They all have a tendency to try and get the teacher off track on silly questions like that.” I hoped that would be enough to satisfy her.
3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) Page 11