People began migrating to the front of the church. There, Gary Price, Jim Thompson, and Glenda Price laid their hands on people. The recipients of these prayers shook and trembled, then fell back into the arms of the people behind them. While he observed the increasingly chaotic scene, Seitzer spotted a redhead in the front row. As people filled the space between the chairs and the altar, she retreated backward. Seitzer wasn’t the only one watching the redhead. Charity Price, who had also moved a few rows back where no one was falling, tracked the girl’s movements, too. When the redhead realized Detective Seitzer was staring at her, she made a beeline to the back of the sanctuary.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
The detective nodded and gestured to the vestibule of the church.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Harrison asked.
“No, that’s okay. You can stay here with your people.”
Felicia Monroe, always curious, also watched the couple depart
“I’d like to help you solve the murder,” the redhead said, once they were far enough away from the din to speak comfortably.
“That would be great. And you are?”
“Hope Price. You visited my family yesterday, asked them lots of questions.”
“I didn’t realize they had another daughter.”
“They don’t like to talk about me much.”
The detective nodded. “I see. So what do you know?”
“At the moment, not very much. But I could know something.”
Seitzer frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Ms. Price. Are you looking for protection against someone?”
“No. I mean that I don’t know what’s going on right now. I’ve been away at college the last few years, but I know the church is hiding things. There’s something going on beneath the surface—I can feel it.”
“I can’t do much with hunches, Ms. Price. And what makes you so sure that’s something going on in your church?”
She shook her head. “It’s not my church—it’s my parent’s church.”
“Fine. What makes you so sure something is going on in your parent’s church?”
“I know because if there wasn’t they wouldn’t be trying so hard to put up a front. They’re afraid of something. They’re afraid that what you said—about everything becoming known—is going to happen.”
“Okay. But unless you give me some specifics, I don’t know what you expect me to do with all of this.”
“I can help you find out information from the inside. I know you probably think I’m just some nosy college girl, but I’m a criminal justice major. This is what I want to do as a profession. And I can find out information that you don’t have access to.”
“So what—people in the church will tell you things because they trust you?”
“No; they don’t trust me at all. But I’ll find out what I need to know, anyway.”
Seitzer eyed the young woman. Her open defiance intrigued him. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take on any apprentices right now. It’s not the way this stuff works. If you insert yourself into this case, you might interfere with the investigation.”
His words failed to deter Hope. Instead, she smiled. “You and I are kindred spirits, Detective.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re skeptical like I am. You see all this happening around you and you think it’s crazy.”
“I think most people would consider this crazy,” Seitzer said as a new row of worshippers were knocked to the ground by a manifestation of the Spirit.
“Maybe so. But when you were talking up there, I felt like I was listening to me.”
“Even so, Ms. Price—”
“Call me Hope.”
“Okay, Hope. If I need any info, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” Seitzer began to walk away but stopped after a few steps. “There is one thing you might be able to help me with—your sister.” Seitzer glanced at Charity Price, who was watching them from the front. “I think she knows something that might be relevant to the case, but I don’t think she’ll tell me what it is. Maybe you can get her to talk to me. I think it has to do with Elizabeth Wilcox.”
Hope smiled. “I’d be happy to help.”
“But no amateur investigating—I just want you to try to persuade her to talk to me. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
Detective Seitzer eyed her sternly and then rejoined Harrison and Felicia Monroe.
“What was that all about?” Harrison asked.
“Oh, nothing. That was the second Price girl. She wants to play junior detective.” He glanced at his watch. “Is this about over yet?”
“It’s hard to tell with these things,” Monroe said, playing Candy Crush, or some other colorful game, on her phone.
After its three-hour run time, the Holy Spirit Tabernacle worship service finally ended. Felicia Monroe entered the fray to interview people about their feelings regarding the failed prophecy and the shocking murder. Some parishioners approached Seitzer and Harrison but only to wish them luck on their investigation. No one rent their garments and put on sackcloth to announce their role in Graham Wilcox’s murder.
“Well, that was fun,” Seitzer said as the two men departed.
“What do we do now?”
“Go home. Rest up for tomorrow. It’s going to be a long week.”
Harrison nodded. The younger man seemed like he had something he wanted to say. Seitzer feared that his partner wanted to reignite their debate on religion.
“Julia wanted to know if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight,” Harrison said.
“Dinner?”
“She thought it would be nice for us to get to know you better.”
Seitzer stared at his partner. Harrison already seemed nervous as he made the invitation and the older detective’s lack of response seemed to augment his anxiety.
“If you’re busy, it’s okay.”
“I’m not busy.”
“So then you’ll come?”
Seitzer imagined the frozen dinner and hours spent in front of the television that would be his if he declined Harrison’s offer, weighing them against the generic questions of introduction he would have to answer if he ate with the betrothed couple.
“Sure, I’ll come.”
Perhaps Seitzer had made the decision against his better judgment. In any case, just like the Holy Spirit Tabernacle church service, dinner with Harrison and his fiancée would have to end eventually.
Chapter Eleven
When the service ended, Charity sought out her sister. Hope had moved to the back of the church, where she explored the various pseudo-contemporary classrooms housed in the annex.
“What were you doing with the detective?” she demanded.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Hope replied, dismissing her sister’s urgent tone.
“Were you flirting with him?” Something about Hope’s proximity and demeanor toward the detective had bothered Charity.
“With Detective Dan? No.” Hope acted like she was offended.
Charity considered reminding Hope why she couldn’t get too defensive about the implication, but resisted the urge.
“Be careful what you to say to him, okay?”
Hope cocked her head to the side. “Why? What are you are worried about him finding out?”
“Nothing. I’m not worried about him finding out anything.” Charity walked away from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation.
“You sure seem scared about something,” Hope said, mostly under her breath, though Charity could still hear her. Charity feared her sister wouldn’t give up until she had discovered the truth.
Chapter Twelve
Seitzer followed Harrison through a network of quiet, residential streets to a modest cape cod on the west side of town.
“I’m guessing you guys don’t live together,” Seitzer said after the two men climbed out of their respective cars.
“No. Not until after
the wedding.”
“Is this your place or hers?” Seitzer checked out the cream colored house with blue shutters that blended in with the surrounding homes.
“Mine.” Harrison walked up the front steps and inserted his key into the lock. “Just to give you a heads up, Julia can be a little direct sometimes.” He turned the key and opened the door. “Julia, we’re here.” He led Seitzer inside.
Harrison’s fiancée came out of the kitchen area, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a red, plaid apron over her white blouse. “Detective Seitzer, I’m so glad you could make it.” She gave him a generous smile. Her eyes possessed a certain therapeutic quality that eased away a modicum of Seitzer’s reticence to dine with the couple. She then turned her attention to her fiancé. “And I’m glad to see you, too.” In a picture of domestic bliss, the two met in the middle of the living room for a quick kiss.
“Thank you for having me,” Seitzer said after the lovers had completed their reunion.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I just need to finish up a few things,” Julia said.
“Do you need any help?” Harrison asked.
“No thanks, John. You stay here with our guest.”
Julia disappeared into the kitchen. Seitzer began roaming around the living room, as he did whenever he visited a suspect’s house, surveying the various photos and any other items that functioned as windows into the person’s soul.
“Is this your brother and sister?” He pointed to a photo of a slightly younger Harrison with a man and woman who looked similar in age on either side of him.
“Yes,” Harrison said after briefly glancing at the photo.
“She’s pretty. And he looks like you. What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a private investigator. He works a few towns over.”
“Private investigator?”
“Yeah. He’s really good at what he does, but for some reason, he was never interested in being a cop. He always had to be his own man.”
“Does all of your family live around here?”
“Pretty much. They’re all within a thirty-minute radius of Woodside. That and the fact that Julia has a practice here is what made me decide to move up here.”
Seitzer shifted his gaze from the family photos to Harrison’s face. “Are you happy about being in Woodside?” Something about the younger detective’s features suggested otherwise.
“Yeah, sure.” Harrison’s tone felt neutral and guarded.
“You don’t seem too enthusiastic about it.”
“I like Woodside fine. It’s just that …” He trailed off, forcing Seitzer to prompt him further.
“It’s just what?”
Harrison sighed. “I felt like I could make more of a difference in New York City. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the job, I am, but Woodside is just a little small. And not that much happens here.”
“You get to work on a murder case—that’s something, isn’t it?”
“It is. But this is abnormal. I could do more in New York.”
“New York is only an hour and a half away. You and Julia could have found a place that was halfway between here and there if she didn’t want to have to find a new practice.”
Seitzer was pushing his partner for the thing he suspected lurked behind Harrison’s decision to come back to the Hudson Valley area, even if Harrison remained oblivious to its existence.
“Julia had some reservations about me working in New York. She was worried. I think she watches too many cop shows.”
Seitzer nodded. “It’s hard to be an officer’s wife or husband. I get how she feels. But are you going to be okay down the road knowing you sacrificed what you wanted for her?”
Before Harrison could reply, his lovely fiancée reappeared. “Dinner’s ready!” Their eyes met for a second, completely bypassing Seitzer’s presence. An exuberant affection animated their features. She smiled at Harrison then departed once more for the kitchen.
“Yeah, she’s worth it,” Harrison said, beaming like they would always feel the same way about each other as they did in that moment.
Seitzer smiled. “So I see. But in my experience, what feels like an easy sacrifice now won’t seem so easy later.”
Harrison’s euphoria lost a little of its vitality when confronted by his partner’s foreboding comment. Seitzer almost felt guilty. “But what do I know? No one should take marriage advice from me. Let’s go eat dinner.”
Harrison shook off Seitzer’s troubling words and escorted Seitzer into the dining room, where they sat around a small round table already set. Julia placed a serving bowl filled with spaghetti in the center of the table.
“Hope you like spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Who doesn’t?” Seitzer replied, sitting in one of the empty chairs. “Do you always cook dinner for John?”
“Sometimes he cooks for me. Sometimes I cook for him.” Julia and John sat next to each other in adjacent chairs. Seitzer noticed they bowed their heads while holding hands, just for a moment. Then Julia released Harrison’s hand and began circulating the food around the table.
Seitzer had been where Julia and John were: young, dumb, and in love. No prophecy of doom would have dissuaded his ardent affection for his wife back then. And for the first five years of their marriage, Seitzer thought he and his wife had defied the odds. In reality, it hadn’t been long enough yet. Gravity caught up with them, eventually. So Seitzer resolved to allow the young lovers their bliss unless they provoked him.
After everyone had been served the pasta, meatballs, salad, and bread, and each person had taken their first bite, Julia looked up at her guest.
“So Detective Seitzer, what’s it like working with John?”
“Fine. We haven’t really worked long enough together for me to form a definite opinion, but he seems okay.” Seitzer saw no reason to voice his objection to his partner’s faith, especially since Julia shared that same belief system.
After his brief answer, no one said anything further, until Julia looked at Seitzer and asked, “Are you happy?”
“Excuse me?” Seitzer put down his fork. Harrison gave his fiancée a scolding look. “Is that your idea of small talk?”
Julia dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I’m sorry, Detective. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. From what John’s told me about you, you didn’t seem like a person who would appreciate small talk.”
Under normal circumstances, Julia’s assertion was correct. But that didn’t mean Seitzer wanted to discuss his feelings, especially with a licensed psychiatrist and two Christians. “I think I’ll take small talk. Where did you and Harrison meet?”
Julia looked at her fiancé before fielding the question. “We met at a support group.”
Harrison shot her a look.
“What kind of support group?” Seitzer asked.
Julia hesitated, apparently recalibrating her answer. “Just one we were both observing.”
If she was a suspect, Seitzer would have pressed her further. Instead, he let it drop. “Is Pastor Scott still at your church?”
“Yes,” Harrison replied. “Do you know him?”
“Oh, yeah. We know each other pretty well.”
“How do you know Pastor Scott?” Julia asked.
“I used to attend the Methodist Church.”
“Really? I thought you weren’t a person of faith?” Harrison asked.
“I’m not, but my wife was. Or ex-wife, I should say.” Both Harrison and Julia stared intently at him as he spoke. The detective could tell Julia was trying to read his facial expressions and body language. However, Seitzer masked the usual undercurrent of bitterness that typically accompanied conversations about his failed marriage, maintaining a certain degree of casualness. They would get nothing more than the basic facts of his life.
“You know, one thing I remember Pastor Scott really encouraged his congregation to do was invite non-Christians over for dinner. Does he still do that?”
H
arrison looked down at his plate and poked at a meatball with his fork. Julia leaned toward Seitzer. “Is that what you think this is?”
“I considered the possibility.”
Julia shrugged. “We just wanted to get to know you. You and John will be working together a lot, so I thought having you over would be appropriate.”
“And you weren’t planning on converting me before dessert? Or was conversion supposed to be dessert?”
Harrison remained quiet; he seemed content to let his fiancée do all of the talking.
“I thought the topic of faith might come up, given some of the things you’ve said to John and the details of the case you’re working on. But we really didn’t have an agenda. I thought we’d have a conversation. I would have thought you’d wonder why John and I are Christians, at the very least.”
Seitzer smiled. “I already know why you’re Christians.”
“But you don’t even know us.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know your stories. Religious people only have a few different stories.” Seitzer finished the rest of the food on his plate and leaned back in his chair. “One, you have your people who grow up in religious families and become serious about their faith, usually later in life because of some kind of crisis. Or you have your people who didn’t grow up religious but come to faith later in life through some combination of crisis and having an influential Christian in their lives.”
Julia and Harrison glanced at one another. “Am I right? Do either of those fit your story?”
“That seems a bit simplistic,” replied Julia.
“Does it or does it not fit?”
“I suppose if you take out a lot of the important details, I could fit into the second category you described,” Julia admitted. “But that seems overly reductionistic.”
“And you?” Seitzer turned to his partner.
“I would be the first category,” Harrison replied, taking his own sip of wine.
Seitzer silently reveled in his philosophical victory. “See—there are only a few different stories in this world.”
“What about you? Why are you so hostile toward Christianity?” Julia asked. Her tone remained even, without a speck of defensiveness animating it; Seitzer imagined she used the same manner of speaking when she asked her patients questions.
Everyone Was Left Behind Page 8
