“I’m certain there was nothing like that.”
Emotionless. Her voice was dull, monotone. The self-righteousness she’d exhibited when Sarah first arrived was gone and replaced by absolutely nothing.
“That’s strange,” Sarah said, deciding to interject doubt. “Several people have mentioned that there was a falling-out. Maybe it was just a rumor.” She let the possibility dangle.
“I’ll let the reverend know you wish to speak with him about this.” Deborah moved toward the door. “I’m sure he can answer your questions better than I can.”
Definitely a falling-out, not a rumor. Sarah hesitated at leaving, looked the wife in the eyes to garner the most impact. “It’s very important that any and all aspects of Valerie’s life be analyzed to get to the bottom of why she was murdered. The smallest thing could turn out to be immensely important.”
“I’ll have the reverend call the inn to make an appointment with you.”
“Thank you.”
Again Sarah delayed making the exit the woman wanted so desperately for her to make. “Someone who knew Valerie did this,” Sarah reminded her. “The reverend probably knows the folks who were most closely associated with her. Perhaps even those her family didn’t know about. Young girls have secrets.” Sarah smiled. “As a spiritual leader in the community, your husband keeps lots of secrets, I’m sure.”
The flames of hell couldn’t have thawed the icy stare Sarah got for that remark.
“Have a nice evening, Ms. Newton.”
The door closed promptly behind her.
Sarah walked back to her car, got in and started the engine. As she backed out of the driveway, she glimpsed the front-window curtain falling back into place. Confirming she was leaving, was she?
Some would call Sarah’s tactics unconscionable. But that was the way this game was played. She planted the doubts and suspicions and then the reactions began. Just like tipping that first domino. All the rest were helpless to do anything but fall.
Sarah checked the street, started to back out, but a figure standing at the church doors drew her attention there.
Brown hair, bulky sweater. The niece.
She waved timidly to Sarah.
Sarah glanced at the house before pulling deeper into the church parking lot and getting out once more. Once her car was hidden from view by the church, she climbed out. “Hi.” Sarah presented a wide, friendly smile. “I didn’t catch your name.” She didn’t rush toward the steps where the girl waited, didn’t want to startle her.
“Tamara.” The girl glanced toward the corner of the church as if she expected her aunt to appear, then she settled a wide-eyed gaze on Sarah’s. “My aunt didn’t tell you the truth.”
“About what?” Sarah asked carefully. Don’t lead. Even if anticipation was sending her pulse into overdrive. Let the girl tell her story.
“Valerie left the congregation because of something my uncle did.”
Sarah kept her expression schooled. “What did he do?”
Tamara bit her lip, looked toward the corner of the building again. “The same thing he did to me.”
Disgust welled in Sarah’s chest. “Can you be more specific?” She knew what the girl meant, but she needed her to say the words.
“Tamara!”
The aunt.
The girl’s eyes widened. “I have to go!”
Sarah reached for one of her cards. “Call me and—”
Tamara rushed away before Sarah could finish. She dropped her hand to her side and waited until she heard the front door of the house slam before going back to her car and sliding behind the wheel again. She exited the church lot, careful to ensure she stayed out of view of the house. No need to get the niece in trouble. If Sarah could get a chance to speak with her again, alone, she would get the rest of the story.
Not that she needed another word to figure it out.
The reverend was a perv.
