3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series)

by Ryan, Jonathan

  The elders filed out of the room while I stayed behind.

  Mike stared at me. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

  “What’s the point? If you are going to be chicken shit, so be it.”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You can shove your thank yous up your ass, Mike,” I said as I walked out of the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I flipped through the channels as I waited for Jennifer to arrive. I settled on a South Park episode I’d seen a million times. The cartoon sounds made for good background noise while lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

  I couldn’t believe Mike outwitted me. It wasn’t the job. I had already decided to resign and felt just fine. I just hated being outsmarted when I thought I had the upper hand.

  I shook my head and opened up my computer.

  What are you doing awake? Brian’s words popped up on the screen.

  Can’t sleep. I might ask you the same question.

  Ashley is sick. I’m letting her have the bed.

  You are a gentleman, sir, I wrote, looking at my phone, wondering if Jennifer would call before she came over.

  Ha. Well, she is my wife, after all.

  Yeah, good point.

  So, anything new?

  What a question. I’m not sleeping anytime soon. Yeah, ghost world is drawing closer to me.

  And your doubts? he asked.

  Let’s just say I’m more conflicted than ever.

  What do you mean?

  I recounted the events of the meeting.

  I can’t believe Mike did that to you. What an asshole.

  I can … now, anyway. That’s the way he operates. In the shadows.

  And Father Neal, what did he mean, doubters will always be met?

  I don’t know. He told me that the story of Thomas is the key.

  I looked over at my Bible, still open to John 20.

  What have you come up with? Brian wrote.

  A lot so far ... do you want to hear it?

  Yeah, lay it on me.

  Thomas had two sorts of doubts that I can tell from the story: intellectual and emotional. Thomas demands proof. The first scientist, the first skeptic, so much for saying the ancients were stupid and superstitious. He could really be the patron saint of all those who ask questions or express doubts about God.

  Interesting, what do you mean? Brian asked.

  He demands physical evidence and historical proof. He doesn’t believe guys who have been his closest friends for three years. They keep telling him that Jesus has risen from the dead, but basically, he tells them they have their heads up their butts.

  Sounds familiar.

  Yeah, doesn’t it? So unless he touches Jesus’ wounds and puts his hands in each one, he won’t believe, I explained.

  Pretty hardcore.

  Yeah, I know. It’s amazing how I have never thought about this before. I rubbed my head and sighed.

  Me neither. I always thought of Thomas as a kind of pity figure, someone who just didn’t get it, Brian wrote.

  I know. So did I until my talk with Father Neal. Now, I’m starting to think that it’s okay to demand intellectual answers.

  We sort of learned that in college, Aidan, Brian said.

  No. We didn’t. We were taught how to handle others’ doubts, not our own. We were taught evidences for faith in Christ, but never how to apply it personally.

  Guess I can’t argue with that.

  And you know what else? I have spent my whole ministry life giving people the wrong answers. I basically told them not to doubt, but to question. But the more I think about it, the Bible is full of people who do just that. I realized I was pounding on the keyboard.

  You know, you are right. Gideon laying out the fleece, Elijah complaining to God about being the only one in Israel who believes, Job’s continued cries and Jeremiah’s constant whining.

  And that is just the start. It seems to me that God invites doubts. It’s us who can’t handle it. Bishop came up and laid his head on my lap.

  Wow, Aidan, you have made a lot of progress in the past few weeks. Is it the ghosts?

  No, not really. I guess you could say I’m doubting my doubts. I don’t know where I am, Brian. I thought I did. I thought I had finally cast aside my faith, but now I’m finding that my questions were superficial.

  I didn’t think they were.

  But they were, Bri, they really were. There is more to this whole issue than I ever realized.

  And your faith is coming back?

  I looked out my sliding glass door into the unseen blackness. No, it’s not coming back, yet. I’m not done thinking through the story of Thomas. Maybe when I’m done.

  How long will that be?

  I laughed. As long as it takes.

  Are you still going to send the email to the elders?

  No, I’m not going to tell them. I’ll let Jennifer do that.

  I just can’t believe the woman he cheated with was murdered. You are sure he didn’t actually do it?

  Positive. Mike doesn’t have the balls to do something like that.

  Poor Sheila.

  I know.

  Listen, I need to check on Ashley.

  Tell her I hope she feels better.

  I will. Lily is still waiting on her candy.

  The box sat on my table ready to send.

  Ha! I will send it to her. I just forgot.

  Don’t worry about it, man, she still loves her Uncle Aidan.

  Maybe when all of this is over, I’ll come down to see you. I might need a good long look at the Tennessee mountains.

  A knock on the door startled me out of my online chat.

  Hey, I gotta run, Jennifer’s here.

  WHAT????? Lady cop? What’s going on, Aidan?

  I grinned. Wouldn’t you like to know?

  You are lucky that Ashley is calling me; otherwise I would force you to explain.

  You could try. Talk to you later, dude. Give all your ladies a kiss from me.

  You got it.

  The wind blew Jennifer’s light coconut-scented perfume into the room as I opened the door. Her pink cheeks and green eyes tied my tongue.

  “Hey.” She grinned. “It’s really cold!”

  “Yeah, it is,” I replied, catching my breath. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Please.” Jennifer came in and took off her coat. Her tight black sweater and slacks clung to the curves of her body.

  “How did the interrogation go?” I asked as I poured her coffee.

  “Well, both their stories corroborate. They were at the same pastors’ meeting, and they have witnesses that we are questioning. But so far, they check out.”

  The tightness in her voice caught my attention as I gave her coffee, and I sat down on the couch. “How is that possible?”

  She shook her head and took a seat on a nearby armchair. “I don’t know. Maybe we are totally on the wrong trail.” Jen chewed her lip as she stared up at the ceiling.

  “Well, Mike must have thought so because he felt strong enough to betray me at the session meeting.”

  “He is so slimy. Maybe that’s why we thought he might be capable of murder,” she said, scowling.

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  We sipped our coffee in silence as Bishop put his head on Jennifer’s lap, a position I envied.

  “So, how are you doing with all of this?” she asked. “How is your faith?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I can say I’m no longer confident about my disbelief, but that’s about as far as I can take it.”

  Jennifer got up from the armchair and sat by me on the couch. The heat of her body radiated as she lightly touched my arm. “Talk to me.”

  I shrugged. “All we know at this point is that there is some kind of world that we can’t see. It doesn’t say anything about God or give us any indication that He cares.”

  She nodded. “Maybe, but it seems to me if the unseen world is real, then maybe God is too.”
<
br />   I put my cup down on the table. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But I don’t buy it. I need to see the logical connections, and I don’t have those yet.”

  Jennifer chuckled. “Maybe that’s the difference in how we were raised. As a Catholic, I’m used to taking things on faith even when I can’t totally prove it. We love a little mystery. It’s you Protestants that have to have everything in order.”

  She had a point. Protestants, especially Presbyterians, clung to systematic theologies like my nephew clung to his ratty Bruce the Bear.

  “I think you are right.” I turned to her, and to my surprise, her face had drawn closer to me so that her lips hovered inches from mine. I could almost taste the coffee on her breath.

  “You’ll come through it,” she said. “You still believe. It’s obvious. You just don’t know it yet.”

  I smiled. “Is that right? Glad you have confidence in me.” I paused, thinking about what to say next. Jennifer, I know you recently interrogated me for murder, but I’m starting to have feelings for you. I’ll most likely be jobless in a month or so, and living with my brother, but do you want to go on a date? “Jennifer, I…”

  She pressed her finger to my lips. “Shhh. I know.”

  I stared into her eyes and kissed her without hesitation. Lightly at first, lips slowly moving, and then our mouths opened so that our tongues met. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her close to me, her breasts pressing into my chest. Our kisses became more passionate, and she climbed onto my lap and straddled me as her soft hair formed a veil around our faces.

  We parted for breath, and I stared at her smiling face. “So, do you treat all your former murder suspects this way?”

  She gave me a wicked grin and stroked my cheek. “Of course, how do you think I get my confessions?”

  We kissed some more and then she put her lips to my ear. “Are you going to invite me to spend the night?”

  The words struck me harder than I expected. Did I want to invite her to spend the night? My body screamed, yes, you do, what the hell are you waiting for?

  I pressed my mouth to Jennifer’s warm neck, and her body responded to my touch. She moaned and gripped me to her.

  But something else pulled at me, something I couldn’t explain. Was it the tattered belief in God? Was it some misplaced leftover loyalty to Amanda? Or was it the strange possibility that both Amanda and God could see me?

  Jennifer sensed my hesitancy. “Are you okay? Was I too forward? It’s okay if you don’t want to.” She stared at me in a way I hadn’t seen before, unsure, vulnerable, with a hint of hurt.

  “No, it’s not that. I can’t think of anything I want more right now.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” She continued to stroke my cheek.

  I sighed. “I don’t know. Every part of me wants to take you upstairs to my bedroom and make love to you. My body, brain, and heart are screaming for it.”

  She moved her head a bit, searching my face. “I hear a big but there.”

  I smiled. “No, it’s not big, not big at all. In fact, it’s small, but something tells me we need to wait.”

  Jennifer hugged me again, causing me to fight for self-control. “Okay, I guess I can understand.”

  “I really like you. Really. I think you can tell.”

  She pulled her head back so that her nose touched mine. “And I really like you. Don’t worry. I understand. It’s a little fast, isn’t it?”

  I laughed. “No, not at all, but I just want this whole investigation to be over first, to get to know each other under normal circumstances, you know?”

  She gave me a half smile. “Then I had better go; otherwise, we might not keep to that.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I think that’s best. I don’t have that much self-control.”

  Jennifer stood and put on her coat. I got up and opened the door for her. She turned to me. I touched her cheek, tracing her soft skin with my fingertips. I kissed her again.

  “You keep doing that, and I’m not going to leave,” she whispered.

  “I’ll sic Bishop on you.” I laughed.

  At that moment, Bishop nudged his head between us and looked up at Jennifer with a face that said, pet me.

  She laughed. “Hmmmm, I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”

  I smirked and rubbed Bishop’s side. “Traitor.”

  “Do you want to have brunch with me tomorrow?” She offered.

  “Yeah, say noon at Northstar?”

  “Sounds great.”

  We kissed again, and then I closed the door. Bishop looked at the door and cocked his head before looking back up at me.

  “Yeah, I want her to come back too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As I drove to Northstar Café to meet Jennifer, a legion of questions flooded my head.

  Was it too soon to have feelings for her? Was it too weird, given that she had accused me of murder only a few days ago? Did I just like her because I had barely been touched by a woman in the past six months? Was my faith really gone? Even if it was still there, buried under all the hurt, doubt, and questions, did that mean I should still be a minister? None of these questions had easy answers.

  I pulled into the parking lot and went inside. Even though I arrived a few minutes late, I didn’t see Jennifer anywhere. I figured she probably got caught up with something at work.

  I took my seat in one of the booths. A Columbus Dispatch newspaper lay on the table, and I picked it up. Articles about Jessica’s murder along with speculation about Amanda’s killer covered the front page. It amazed me how much the press didn’t actually know. I’d never been on the other side of a murder investigation, so I’d assumed they knew more than the average public.

  I moved on to the sports page, cursed the Blue Jackets, and then looked at my phone.

  What in the world? Did she change her mind? Did I do something wrong?

  I called her, and it went straight to voice mail. Maybe her interrogations brought up some unexpected…

  My phone beeped, indicating I had a new text message. I clicked to view it.

  Nachash, Nachash, Nachash, Nachash, Nachash, Nachash.

  Another message beeped in.

  He is waking. He is waking. He is waking. He is waking. He is waking. He is waking. He is waking.

  Beep.

  He will summon us. He will summon us. He will summon us. He will summon us.

  I sat staring at my phone as text messages kept pouring into my inbox.

  The final sacrifice has come. The veil will be pierced. The Grinning Man will come.

  You cannot save her. You cannot save her. You cannot save her. She is ours.

  My heart raced. She? The final sacrifice? No, it couldn’t be…

  I called Jennifer and got her voicemail once more. “I just got a series of weird texts. I think the third victim has been, I guess, marked. I dunno. Call me please.”

  I got up and paced around, trying not to think about Jennifer. No way, I thought. She was safe. Surrounded by cops.

  I ordered some food to try to distract my mind. When it arrived, I ate without tasting anything, checking my phone the whole time.

  Nothing.

  Maybe she turned off her phone and overslept. I paid for my food and sped to her condo.

  When I arrived, I was relieved to find no police cars and no broken glass. I drew a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I jumped and spun around.

  “Aidan Schaeffer?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Detective Nicholas, and I need you to come with me, sir.”

  Detective Nicholas stood a shade taller than me, but he was built like an Ohio State linebacker. His perfectly-styled blonde hair was encrusted in gel strands, and a gun-shaped bulge stuck out in his well-tailored suit coat. Everything about this guy said law and order.

  “Can I ask why?” I inquired.

  “You can, but I won’t answer until we get to the
station.”

  “Am I being arrested?” I demanded, annoyed with his arrogant attitude.

  “No. But you’ll make your life easier if you come with us.”

  “I’ll come in, but I’m taking my own car,” I said, turning away from him.

  “Fair enough,” he replied with a wave of his hand.

  “Where is Detective Brown?” I asked. “I had an appointment to meet with her this morning.”

  “We will follow you,” he said without flinching.

  “I want answers.”

  He looked back at me, all the muscles in his face tensed. “Detective Brown has gone missing.”

  My stomach churned, and I grabbed the rail. “How? When?”

  “I’ll answer those questions down at the station, Reverend Schaeffer.”

  “Fine.” I obviously wasn’t going to get any information standing around at Jennifer’s door.

  I felt like my brain had been invaded by a computer virus. My eyes had gone to the “blue screen of death.” All kinds of horrible scenarios passed through my mind. Maybe she had been raped. Maybe she had been murdered. Maybe both.

  I raged inside. Why, God? Why are you that cruel? Do you even care about me? Why do you keep shattering my life this way?

  When I pulled into the parking lot at the police station, my hands started to shake. I took a few calming breaths. I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t relax. My body started to ache.

  I wanted to pound the steering wheel. I had the feeling of being watched. I didn’t know if they were the eyes of the ghosts or the detectives. Neither one held any appeal for me.

  Chills went through my body as pictures of Amanda and Jessica, covered in blood and a white robe, poured into my mind. No, God, please not Jennifer…

  Then I realized why they were bringing me in for questioning. They must have known I had spent a lot of time with her, and of course that I was a previous murder suspect. Two strikes.

  If that’s what they thought, I wasn’t going to be a sniveling coward like I’d been the last time. I didn’t do anything, and they couldn’t just send me to jail.

  The police led me into the same interrogation room where I’d met Jennifer just a few days before. The same suffocating space with the same three chairs. I was so focused on Jennifer this time that I didn’t let it bother me.