Page 61 of They Say a Girl Died Here

“Oh, but of course, she should speak to Pastor Keene,” Marjorie exclaimed suddenly. “Again, it was before my time, but he had a couple of implants done here and then he got a deal with Dr. Sallinger to treat some of the less fortunate here and pay for their dental work. He’d bring them in and sit over there and write his sermons while he waited. Hasn’t done it for a couple of years. I think there were complaints from some of the other clients about the difference in what they were paying.”

“Good Christian charity, huh?” Anna said, wry, as her heart raced. Pastor Keene.

“Well, you know people.” Marjorie shrugged. “Faith can be selfish, for sure.” Behind them, the door opened and a flustered woman ushered in two reluctant children.

“I’ll pass these on to my mother.” Anna pocketed the leaflets and gave Marjorie a big smile. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Pastor Keene. Of course.

73

It was two o’clock when Anna got to the church, and the day was ticking by, relentlessly carrying her toward her fate, but she concentrated on the present. The suspect at hand.

Pastor Keene had known both Bonnie and Lila. Really known them. Lila had helped him in the soup kitchen for two years, only stopping when she got together with Jamie. Could she have had a thing with Pastor Keene, gross as that was, given she’d have been so young when she was helping him out, and then he killed her in a jealous rage? Or because she’d begun to ignore the church in favor of the sins of the flesh, as Grandma would call it? Then Bonnie came after. Already knowing each other from church, they’d talked at the dentist’s while the pastor waited for the people he’d brought for their treatment.

She was a good listener; that’s what he’d said. Had he sweet-talked her into his bed? Brought some daddy energy? She’d helped him in the shelter in Omaha. A weekend a month spent there. Shit. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Had he killed both girls out of necessity, maybe? To protect himself. Was Lila going to tell Jamie? Bonnie was hormonal and emotional and had just aborted his baby. Was she threatening to tell too? Girls liked to talk.

She couldn’t see Pastor Keene inside, but a mother-and-toddler group were holding a story time up at the front, and when a few women looked curiously her way, she hurried to a pew and pretended to pray as she glanced around. If she could find a writing sample like that in the cards she’d found in Bonnie’s room, that would be some relatively concrete evidence to take to Todd. The police had people who could match writing, she’d heard enough about it on podcasts. She’d hoped the pastor would be here and she’d have gotten him to write down some old movie recommendations for Grandma or some other such bullshit, but there was no sign of him.

There was a large gold candlestick in a waist-high alcove toward the front and another on the other side of the aisle, more Catholic than Baptist, and they looked heavy. Lila and Bonnie had been hit hard on the back of the head, before being strangled. One of those candlesticks could definitely do that job. She shuffled out of the pew and went for a closer look. Hoping for bloodstains was ridiculous, but she wondered if the police would still be able to find something on them under a UV light. Her hand clenched into a fist, frustrated. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anything.

She quietly made her way to the back by the doors where the indoor bulletin board was, scanning the various sheets of paper about room use, group timetables, choir practice, and prayer sessions. Nothing was handwritten, everything these days typed and printed. The poster for the charity raffle the Millers had won was still up, brightly colored and inviting. Five days in Omaha staying at the City Center Garden Hilton. Anna stared at it, wishing Mom had won. They’d all be out of town and safe. No basement murder could happen then.

Frustrated and with a sudden need to pee, she went to the restroom. This church visit had been a waste of precious time, giving her nothing new. It wasn’t until she was scrubbing at her hands with the soap that she saw it. The name stamped onto the surface of the bar. Sailor’s Choice. She stared hard, momentarily unable to breathe. This was the soap the girls’ dead bodies had been washed in. Right here, bold as brass, plain as day. She let out a small laugh. Thank you, God. Pastor Keene. She’d saved herself.

74

As she smoked, hands trembling, Anna stared at the pile of American Spirit butts up against the wall of the church and wondered if she was the only one who could see them. She knew them for what they were now. Cigarettes she’d smoked so many times before, bleeding through from other Annas. Flashes from other timelines she’d lived through. A temporary window in the barriers between them. They probably weren’t here—now—at all.

I can’t do it again. That’s what Grandma had said. This was it. Anna’s last shot. She called Todd, keeping her eye on the parking lot in case Pastor Keene showed up.

“Anna. Hey.” He sounded surprised rather than irritated, which she’d take as a win. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but I need you to listen. Hear me out.” Her stomach was in her throat. She didn’t need him to arrest the pastor but just to talk to him. Scare him enough to keep her safe. “It’s about Pastor Keene. He has the Sailor’s Choice soap in the church restrooms. That’s the soap the girls were washed in.”

“Sailor’s Choice?” Todd paused. “That stuff is everywhere these days, Anna. The brand took off a year or so ago. You must have seen the TV ads.”

“It’s more than that. Listen.” She talked fast, telling him about Bonnie’s lover, the pregnancy, the meetings at the dentist’s, how the pastor was close to both girls, which was surely more than most people in town, and definitely more than Michael Cairns, had been. “What if he kills another girl tonight? You need to tell the sheriff. Go talk to the pastor. Scare him enough that he doesn’t murder anyone else.” So he doesn’t murder me.

“No one’s getting killed tonight, and definitely not by Pastor Keene.” Todd was infuriatingly calm and reasonable.

“How can you be so sure?” she snapped back.

“Because he’s gone to Omaha for the weekend to surprise the Millers with dinner before checking in on some charities he works with tomorrow. Honestly, Anna, he’s one of the good guys.”

“How do you know he’s there? Maybe he’s using that as an alibi. You have to tell the sheriff. Take him in. For tonight at least.” She was getting louder, but she couldn’t help herself. It was three o’clock. Her time was running out.

“It’s the sheriff and his wife’s anniversary, and I’m not interrupting that. You need to stop obsessing about this. Pete’ll be in his car down by The Shamrock until closing, and I’m patrolling the outlying towns, but there is nothing to worry yourself about. Michael Cairns is dead, and he killed those girls. I don’t know how else to make you believe that.”

His voice was breaking up, the line suddenly getting bad. “You’re cutting out,” she said.

“Sorry, getting in the car. Need to check on some damage at a store in Pearsville.”

“Is that the crazy girl?”

The line might have been glitching, but she recognized Pete’s, the other deputy’s, voice in the background. What a prick. She hung up, livid, knowing Todd would think the bad line ended the call.

Why had she thought that a man could help her? Todd was no different from all the others. He was probably laughing at her with Pete in their cruiser right now. Even if he didn’t want to laugh at her, he would. That’s what men did. Listened to the louder ones. They liked to be led. Did their harm in packs. She stared at his number in her contacts, white rage consuming her, and then she pressed hard on the delete button. She hated him. Hated him with all her heart. She threw her cigarette butt down, the pile of butts she’d seen only moments ago now vanished, and pocketed her phone. She was on her own. No one was going to help her. And tonight was fast approaching.