Unspoken Fear

by Hunter Morgan

  "Place looks nice," he said, after an awkward moment of silence.

  "Thanks. Always something to fix, though. You know how that is, right?" She chuckled, remembering going to his house once and helping him install a new ceiling fan. They had laughed and laughed as she had read the nonsensical directions aloud and he had tried to follow them. It had been fun. She'd always had a lot of fun with him when they were dating. When they drifted apart, it had been just that, a drift. No big blowup. No disagreement. They had both just sensed that, while they liked each other, they weren't right for each other romantically. He had actually suggested she still had a thing for her ex-husband, but she'd denied it, of course. Just like she was denying it now.

  "Always something," Rachel said, glancing in Mallory's direction. Officer Swift had removed her hat and was stooping at the base of the tree to look at something the preschooler was showing her. "He should be back any time now, like I said." She glanced in the direction of the driveway, then back at Snowden. "Is this about the cases? The murders?"

  "Just a couple of questions," Snowden said, avoiding making eye contact with her.

  He had the most beautiful eyes Rachel thought she had ever seen on a man. So pale blue they were almost gray. Quite striking on a black man. He was already a handsome man, tall with broad shoulders and a finely chiseled face, but the eyes made him killer.

  "You want to ask Noah about the cases?" She studied him, suddenly feeling a little off kilter, a little uncomfortable, and surprisingly enough, a little protective of her ex-husband. "Snowden—" She gave a dry chuckle. "He's been gone more than five years. I don't know what he could possibly—"

  "Johnny Leager was one of his parishioners." Snowden shifted his gaze back to her. "We stopped by the church. Records from seven and a half years ago, according to Miss Watkins, show Mr. Leager saw Noah for counseling."

  She let her hands fall to her sides. "So? So did a lot of people. It's part of a priest's job, to counsel his parishioners."

  "I just have a few questions," Snowden repeated.

  Rachel felt a flicker of annoyance with him. He'd been that way when they had dated. He wouldn't engage in give-and-take arguments; he would just repeat himself again and again. "You know very well whatever Noah and Johnny might have discussed, it's privileged information." The fact that she knew what they had discussed seemed beside the point She had been Noah's wife then, and in many ways, his confessor. "I don't care what Noah's done, he still knows what his responsibilities are—were, to his parishioners."

  "Don't get uppity with me," Snowden said with a half smile. "I'm just doing my job here."

  There was something about the look on Snowden's face that suddenly worried her. "It's about the note that was left at Johnny's, isn't it?" Rachel came down one step, all at once, feeling heaviness in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, the warm afternoon seemed cooler, and she shivered. "Was there a note left behind with Pam Rehak too?" She tried to keep her tone even. "I thought her boyfriend did it. Everyone said he got drunk, lost it, and murdered her. You don't think there's a connection to Pam's and Johnny's murders, do you?"

  He leaned toward her, lowering his voice, probably so his officer couldn't hear him. "Rachel, you know I can't give you any details of our investigation. You shouldn't have known about that evidence. I shouldn't have allowed that information to be discussed in your vicinity."

  A sick feeling washed over her, something akin to what she had felt after the dream about the washing machine. "There was a note with Pam, wasn't there?" Her eyes widened as she stared at his face, hoping to read something from it. "Oh, God, Snowden. The boyfriend didn't do it, did he?"

  * * *

  Noah spotted the cop cars first, then Chief Calloway standing at the bottom of the porch steps, deep in conversation with Rachel. She had come down the steps and he was leaning over her, their exchange seemingly intimate.

  Noah stiffened. There was something about their body language that made him think they knew each other better than she had led him to believe. Something beyond being childhood acquaintances. He knew they knew each other and that Rachel had gone by the station a few days after Johnny died, but he just assumed... He didn't know what he assumed.

  Snowden was single. Had they dated? He thought of Mallory, his mind flying in several directions at once. She was blond, but she wasn't fair like Rachel. Her skin was darker and she tanned easily. The gene pool was a funny thing. Just because she didn't appear to have any African American traits didn't mean—

  Noah consciously ended his thoughts there. It was crazy, thinking like that. Wondering. He found himself doing it the other day when he was walking downtown, wondering who Rachel had dated since their divorce. Who she might have grown close enough to, to be willing to have his child.

  "There he is now," Rachel said when she looked up and saw him cutting across the grass from the driveway.

  "Chief Calloway." Noah felt his shoulders go back as he strode toward the larger man.

  "He's here to see you," Rachel said, her voice sounding far off. "He and Sergeant Swift."

  Rachel nodded, and Noah looked over his shoulder to see the female officer walking toward them, Mallory trailing behind her, chattering a mile a minute about ants.

  "They have questions concerning their investigation," Rachel said. She lifted her lashes to meet Noah's gaze.

  He instantly felt a strong connection with her. These last few days it was as if they were rebuilding their relationship, one tiny thread at a time, and when she looked up at him at that moment, he felt another silken thread draw him closer to her.

  "How can I help you, Chief?" Noah asked Snowden, the expression on his face unwelcoming.

  "We'll go inside." Rachel put out her hand to her daughter. "Come on, Mallory."

  "I don't want to go inside." Mallory halted, crossing her arms over her chest.

  "Well, you're going. Mattie is still watching his movie. Fantasia, I think. You can watch it with him for a few minutes."

  "But I hate Fantasia! I don't want to—"

  "Mallory," Noah interrupted, speaking sharply to the little girl for the first time since he had known her. "Please don't be disrespectful to your mother." He softened his tone. "Do as she asks."

  Mallory took one look at Noah, dropped her little arms poised in her stubborn stance, and hurried up the steps after her mother.

  Noah waited until the screen door slapped shut, and through the kitchen window, he heard Mallory and Rachel go into the living room. "Would you like to step out into the yard, officers?" Whatever they had to say, Noah didn't want it shared with those inside the house.

  "Certainly." Chief Calloway followed Noah out into the driveway, close to where the two police cars were parked. "You know Sergeant Swift."

  Noah acknowledged her presence with a nod in her direction.

  "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Pamela Rehak," the chief of police said, dispensing with the pleasantries.

  That was just fine with Noah. He didn't like Snowden Calloway. He didn't like the way he looked at Rachel. "I didn't know her personally."

  "But you knew her?"

  "I think I met her once at a graduation party or something like that. Eight, maybe nine years ago. I'm not sure we even spoke other than to say hello."

  "Was she at this party with Johnny Leager?"

  Noah frowned. He'd known why they were here the minute he saw the cars, and his feeling of dread increased even as he tried to fight it. "Of course not," he said, covering his uneasiness with impatience. "It was a family thing. A picnic or barbecue or something. One of the sons of one of my parishioners had graduated from high school."

  "Do you recall if Johnny Leager was present?"

  "No, I don't recall if he was present." Noah glanced over his shoulder at the house, then back at the police officers. "Look, just ask me what you want to ask me, OK?"

  "To your knowledge," Sergeant Swift said, turning to him, "did Johnny Leager and Pam Rehak ever have an affair?"
>
  "Why would you ask me that?"

  In the last few days Noah had heard all sorts of tidbits about the second murder in town, but everyone thought her biker boyfriend had done it. Everyone said he was a no-good bum, and they were all speculating on what had driven him over the edge. But no one had suggested her murder and Johnny Leager's might be connected. The cops knew something the general public didn't know. Noah knew things the general public didn't know about Johnny and Pam as well, but this was different. The cops knew something more.

  "What makes you come here to my home and ask me these questions?" Noah demanded, surprised by the strength of his own voice.

  "You know we can't divulge information concerning a case currently under—"

  "Bullshit," Noah interrupted Chief Calloway.

  His use of profanity startled them all. Noah had never used profanity in his previous life as a priest, for obvious reasons, but he had been surrounded, inundated by it in prison. He didn't know what overcame him at that moment, it just came out.

  "This is bullshit," Noah said, lowering his voice but still remaining defiant. "And you know it. I already told you, anything someone revealed to me inside those church walls, anywhere for that matter, is not information I can share. Not ever, Calloway. Not ever," he repeated, emphasizing with a finger that prodded the air.

  "We have evidence, Mr. Gibson, that forces us to ask questions we know are difficult," Sergeant Swift said in her sweet southern voice. "It's not our intention to make you or anyone uncomfortable, or force you to reveal information private between a man and his priest, but—"

  "But you're asking anyway, aren't you?"

  Officer Swift might have been a tiny slip of a thing, but the look on her face indicated she had no intentions of backing down.

  She met his gaze head-on. "We're asking because two people in our town have been murdered, Mr. Gibson. We're asking because we believe you may be able to help us catch the murderer or murderers."

  Noah glanced away for a moment, taking a deep breath. Thinking. He remembered the conversation he and Rachel had had about a note left at Johnny's. One with Biblical references. That information had never been released, not in the papers, not in the local or national news.

  Had there been a similar note left at Pam Rehak's? Why else would the police be making a connection between the two and asking him if they'd had an affair? No one knew about their affair. Johnny had been clear on that. But the Biblical reference left behind at his place suggested otherwise, didn't it?

  Noah stared at the oyster shells at his feet, not sure what to say next. He felt like he couldn't ask the police chief about the note because Rachel had told him about it, even though she shouldn't have. He wasn't going to put her in the middle of this.

  "I can't tell you anything about Johnny Leager or Pam Rehak," Noah said calmly, looking up at the police officers.

  Sergeant Swift and the chief of police exchanged glances. They knew they couldn't make him speak on this subject. They knew he had them.

  Sergeant Swift folded back the cover on her little notebook and tucked it into her pocket.

  Chief Calloway glanced over Noah's shoulder in the direction of Rachel's garden. "A murder like this, like these, is a terrible thing for our town, Noah."

  "I agree."

  "People are asking for answers. They are depending on us for answers. They need to know that there's not some crazy guy out there randomly killing people in our town."

  "I completely agree," Noah said. "But I can't help you, Chief. I'm sorry. I truly am."

  The chief stood a moment longer, staring into space. "Well, thank you for your time."

  "You bet." Noah nodded. "Sergeant Swift."

  "Thank you, Mr. Gibson."

  Noah was standing near the porch steps watching the police cars slowly make their way down his driveway toward the road when he heard the screen door open behind him. The sound of the footsteps told him it was Rachel.

  To his surprise, he felt her hand settle on his shoulder and remain there as she stood just behind him, watching the cars. "They don't know for sure about Johnny and Pam, do they?" she whispered.

  He exhaled. "They have an idea, but I don't think they know for sure. Otherwise, why would they be asking me, knowing I shouldn't say?"

  "Snowden doesn't know that I know about them," she said, her hand still on his shoulder.

  Noah turned around to face her, and her hand slipped from his shoulder. "Did you go out with him?"

  "That's not really any of your business, Noah."

  He looked down at his sneakers, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I know it's not, but I'm asking anyway." He looked up.

  "He's not Mallory's father, if that's what you're asking," she said softly.

  He looked down again, unsure how to interpret the tone of her voice, her body posture. "I guess it was what I was asking."

  She was quiet, but she didn't walk away from him. She just stood there for a minute, close, but not touching. He looked up again. "Listen, I apologize for snapping at Mallory a few minutes ago. It's not my place to—"

  "No, it's fine. You were right. She shouldn't speak to me like that, and I shouldn't let her get away with it. It's just hard sometimes. I feel like I always have to be the bad guy with her." A little smile crossed her lips as she looked at him almost shyly. "It's kind of nice to let someone else take the heat with her."

  He smiled back, reaching out to casually take her hand and lead her toward the porch. "What say we get Mallory and Mattie and get to work on these trellis posts? It's too nice a day to be inside watching Fantasia."

  "Sounds good to me."

  Her smile broadened and so did his world of possibilities.

  * * *

  Two days later, it was after six when Delilah knocked on Snowden's office door.

  "Come in," he called.

  She stepped into his office to find him buried in paperwork, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. She hadn't even realized he wore glasses. "Just checking in, Chief, before I go. Wanted to run a couple of things by you."

  "All right." He removed his glasses and rocked back in his big, black leather chair. He looked tired. He looked as if he wasn't having any better luck sleeping at night than she was. "What have you got?"

  She walked around to the chairs in front of his desk and perched on one of the arms. Growing up, her mother had constantly criticized her, deeming her manner of sitting unladylike, but Peggy Swift would just have to get over herself. Delilah didn't like settling into chairs, sinking down into upholstery. A person never knew when they might have to pop up out of a chair. They were too confining.

  She flipped open her notebook, which was quickly filling up. She'd have to go to the old-fashioned Five and Dime on Main Street and get a new one soon. "Let's see, I've talked to every friend, relative, acquaintance I could track down of both Leager's and Rehak's. Talked to employees at both plants." She glanced up at him sitting patiently behind his desk. "If they had an affair, no one knew about it."

  "At least no one is talking about it."

  She made a face at him. "Chief, a town as small as this, everybody knows everyone's secrets. Don't you think if someone slept with someone else's husband last night, the Bread Ladies would have known about it by noon today? You know they would have." She looked down at her notes again. "Pam and Johnny really didn't have mutual acquaintances. She didn't have many friends at all. He hung around mostly with his wife's brother. They did family things together. Neither were bar hoppers"

  Snowden exhaled. "OK."

  "And here's the biggie. If the two were murdered by the same person, which the two notes with the same Bible verse on them lead us to believe, it wasn't the widow or the biker. Parson has an alibi that checks out for the night Leager was killed. Witnesses out the ying-yang. And the night Pam Rehak died, Stacey Leager was on a bus on her way back from some amusement park with her son for a Cub Scout thing. The bus got a flat tire, so they didn't even get back to the schoo
l until 2 a.m."

  "Past the time the coroner says Pam Rehak died."

  "And the time the boyfriend says he found her on fire, strengthening the validity of the statement he gave us that morning. He really did just sit there all night with his girlfriend dead on the front stoop."

  Snowden tucked his hands behind his back and stared out over Delilah's head. "So you don't think either of them was the killer, and they didn't do anything crazy like get together and kill them?"

  "The biker would have no reason to be jealous of Johnny Leager. He didn't even know Pam then, and after Johnny, before Parson, she lived with another guy who was the father of the child."

  "If he was going to be jealous of anyone, it would be that guy."

  Delilah nibbled on her lower lip. "He just doesn't strike me as the jealous type. And honestly, I think he's really upset. He's staying with Pam's sister right now, talking about helping take care of the little kid. I don't think she'd let him stay there if she thought he was responsible for her sister's death."

  Snowden closed his eyes for a moment and didn't say anything.

  Delilah was quiet, knowing he liked time to think. He wasn't like she was, constantly chattering, speaking aloud every thought that popped into her head.

  "So where do your conclusions take you, Sergeant Swift?" He opened his eyes and sat upright in his chair.

  "It makes me think someone other than the biker or Johnny's wife did this."

  "Who would do it?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know, Chief. We're just guessing they had an affair. No one will even admit they were. My hunch is that if anyone knows about it, it's the ex-priest, and he's dug in. He's not going to verify our suspicions."

  "But someone out there had to know about it to kill them," Snowden countered. "The notes suggest it was about sin. Payment for their sins. Who would want people to pay for their sins?"

  "I don't know," she said, sliding her notebook slowly into her pocket. "A religious nut." She looked up at Snowden, a thought suddenly crossing her mind. "Or maybe an ex-priest who had to pay for his sins when someone else didn't."