“It was fifteen minutes before nine. I remember because I lock the doors at nine. And Duncan was still in the church, praying for a donor. Understand I wouldn’t have thrown him out of the building at closing time. Besides Duncan, the only person more concerned with his wife’s suffering was me. Which is why today’s service is dedicated to Cecilia.”
“Do you know how long he spent inside the church?”
Fowler pursed his lip.
“Unfortunately, no. There wasn’t anyone upstairs to confirm his whereabouts.”
“Not even your assistant?”
“Ms. Barlow’s day ends at four o’clock.”
“So you leave the doors unlocked and the church unattended for hours at a time. Anyone could come inside and vandalize the church.”
“I have more faith in people than you, Deputy. Most people, that is. And no one hides from the eyes of God. Besides, the youth church council met downstairs between the hours of seven and nine. If a troublemaker entered the church, we’d catch him.”
Thomas scanned the time line in his notes.
“Where were you during this time?”
“Where was I?”
“Yes. You claim Duncan Bond passed you on your way into the church.”
“Where I spend my evenings is my business. If you must know, I like to walk to clear my head. I’m closer to God when I feel relaxed.”
“Would you describe yourself as a troubled man?”
“You’re twisting my words. If you heard the stories I listen to everyday, you’d require time to unwind.”
“Do you walk through the village park along the river?”
“I didn’t murder Cecilia Bond, if that’s what you’re implying. You sound like Sheriff Gray, Deputy. Did he put these ideas in your head? I’m sure he told you I murdered Lana. That I crossed the center line and drove the poor woman into a tree. Isn’t that the rumor? I can assure you, I never lost control of my vehicle.”
“Had you been drinking that night?”
“No. And there isn’t a witness who will claim otherwise. If I may be frank, Deputy, I pity your sheriff. He lost the love of his life, and he needs to blame someone so he can sleep at night. I’m the convenient fall guy. But I’m no murderer. And I wouldn’t harm Duncan Bond’s wife.”
“I can’t rule out anyone without an alibi. Were you at the river the night Cecilia Bond died?”
“No. I walked the side streets through the village.”
“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”
Fowler's lips curled into a hyena’s grin.
“You’re welcome to knock on doors and ask. Would you like me to map my route, Deputy?”
“That won’t be necessary. Tell me about the prayer jar.”
“Whatever for?”
“Were Lincoln Ramsey and Cecilia Bond’s names in the prayer jar?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’d like the names of the people in the jar today.”
“I trust you brought a warrant? The contents of the prayer jar are private. I won’t violate anyone’s confidence.” Fowler rose and swept his robes behind him. “Will there be anything else, Deputy Shepherd? I have mass.”
Thomas slipped his notes into his pocket.
“That’s all for now, Father. I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Saturday, July 18th
11:15 a.m.
The murder board hung in the interview room as Thomas, Gray, and Lambert moved their eyes between the photographs. In the kitchen, the blender whirred. Aguilar entered the room with two pink protein shakes. The muscular deputy handed one to Thomas and the other to Gray. The sheriff sniffed the concoction.
“What in God’s creation is this?”
“Protein powder, frozen berries, and a greens supplement.”
“It smells like a hamster cage.”
“It’s good for you. Drink. You ate donuts all week and need to purge the toxins swimming through your system.”
The sheriff raised the glass and touched the lid to his lips before twisting his nose.
“You first,” he said, glaring at Thomas.
With a shrug, Thomas gulped the smoothie as Lambert grinned.
“Not bad.”
Gray made a noncommittal grunt and sipped the protein drink. Aguilar wore a smug smile.
“Now, that didn’t kill you, did it? Treat your body well, and it will return the favor.”
Gray set the smoothie on the table and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Enough with the health lesson. Get to work.”
The murder board included photographs of a younger Lincoln Ramsey and Cecilia Bond, as she appeared after Thomas and Gray dragged her out of the river. The bloated corpse haunted Thomas when he closed his eyes at night. Facing it again, he wondered how bad the nightmares would be tonight. The sheriff arranged pictures of Garrick Tillery, Father Josiah Fowler, Duncan Bond, and Carl Middleton on the murder board. Colored strings connected each suspect to a victim, signifying a link.
“Start with Carl Middleton,” Gray said.
Aguilar set her hands on her hips.
“He’s at the top of the list.”
“Why?”
“He lied about the altercation outside the church, and he threatened Kay Ramsey and tried to break into her house.”
“Nobody witnessed Middleton circling the house and breaking through the window,” said Thomas. “Kay Ramsey is going through a rough time, and Middleton pounding on her door threw her off. She might have been confused.”
Aguilar shook her head.
“He all but admitted to breaking the window. If he hadn’t, why would he encounter Kay Ramsey two years later? And what kind of psychopath throws a brick through a rival’s window?”
“All right. Let’s say he’s our murderer. What’s his trigger?”
Aguilar scrunched up her face in thought.
Lambert said, “The bank denying his loan.”
“Middleton Construction survived. His team is all over the village, working on projects.”
“It could be desperation. Middleton Construction is a small outfit and can’t handle the amount of projects he’s taking on. That tells me the guy is having financial trouble.”
Thomas hadn’t considered the possibility, but it made sense.
“So why would Middleton murder Cecilia Bond?”
Aguilar lifted herself and sat on the edge of the table, her legs hanging over the edge.
“If Middleton went off the deep end and murdered Lincoln Ramsey, he wouldn’t need a reason to kill Cecilia Bond. He’s crazy.”
“That doesn’t convince me. Middleton is a bully. I need more proof, if I’m to believe he’s murdering people in Wolf Lake.”
“He attended church with Lincoln Ramsey and Cecilia Bond.”
“Not recently. Father
