by Gina LaManna
"No, I'm gonna get going, I think." She gave me a small smile. "Good luck!"
She was off as I raised my hand to wave good-bye.
I didn't think about Sarah anymore as I headed inside the station. My mind was already onto other things, namely finding Jax, telling him about the note, and getting over to the confessional by 9:00 a.m., which was now in twenty-two precious minutes, based on the clock on the wall.
"Alfie," I nodded. He was manning the front desk. Of course he would be—today was the day the comic shop was closed. What else would he be doing?
I was proud of myself for having enough restraint to hold back a minor smirk as Alfie blushed. "Misty, how can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Jax."
"For what, if I may ask?"
I leaned on the counter. "You may not ask."
Alfie's ears reddened, and he looked a little bit like a teakettle that was just about to boil. I wouldn't have been surprised if he started steaming. "Fine, then. In his office."
He thumbed me down a hallway straight behind him, and I took off, scanning for the name plaque that would tell me I'd reached my destination.
"Look who it is." I whirled to face the familiar voice behind me.
"Jax. I must have missed your office."
"It's not marked." Jax pointed to what may have been a broom closet. There was a name plaque, but in my defense it wasn't what I'd been looking for. Instead of white block letters, the name Jax was spelled J-A-C-K-S in color crayon, with snowmen dancing around the letters and a yellow exclamation mark that looked like a hot dog. Clearly a gift from one of Donna's kids.
"That's a beautiful nameplate."
"That's why I leave it up." Jax grinned. "What can I do for ya?"
"I got a letter this morning."
Jax looked up and down the hallway, his grin melting into a mask that intersected on curious and concerned. "Come in."
The interior of his office was not much better than the broom closet I'd initially thought it to be. Two mismatched, raggedy chairs sat on opposite sides of a plain metal table. Papers were spread on his desk, semi-organized to him probably but chaotic to an average bystander. A computer perched against a stand to his left, and there was a tiny, college-style refrigerator on the other side of the room.
"Something to drink?" Jax asked. "Sorry for the cramped quarters. I prefer to spend my time on the streets instead of sitting behind a desk."
"Someone slipped this under my door." I slid the sheet of paper over to where Jax leaned against his desk.
He picked it up and read the message quickly, his eyes flicking up toward me before going back to the paper, presumably to read it again.
"Does Donna know about this?" he asked.
I nodded. "She woke me up this morning. Found it under the door. She offered to take care of Harmony so I could tell you about it, but you weren't…"
"Weren't at home."
"Right. Sarah dropped me off here."
Jax cast a curious gaze at me, but I was glad he didn't press further. It wasn't only that I didn't want to talk about it. I mean, it was partially true that I didn't want to acknowledge the fact he had a girlfriend, but we also didn't have time to chat this morning.
"I need to get to the church. Can you drop me off?"
"I'm coming with you."
"You're not." I stood up. "I came here on good faith that you wouldn't interfere. You wanted to keep abreast of this case, and I'm doing you a favor by letting you know beforehand."
"Are you?" Jax took a step forward, lightly clasping his hand around my bicep. "Or are you scared out of your mind that some creep might be waiting in there for you with a gun?"
I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, but it all whooshed out of me when he pulled me even closer to him. I glanced everywhere but into his eyes, though I didn't fool him.
"You're scared, aren't you?" Jax tipped my chin to look into his eyes. "Tell me yes, or else you're crazier than I thought."
I glared into his eyes. "Yes. I'm scared. I'm terrified. But I need to go in there alone."
"Let me come with. I'll stay in the shadows."
"Will you?" I glanced up at him, my neck tilted backward because my face was already so close to his. "Do you promise? If this is the chance I have to figure out who killed Anthony and you blow it…"
"I promise. Let's go. We can talk more in the car."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We didn't talk more in the car. On the contrary, we were silent. The church was only a mile or so away, and we made quick time. As we drove past the church, Jax showed no signs of stopping.
"Are you going to let me out eventually?" I asked.
Jax gave me a non-amused look.
"Where will you park that your car won't be seen?" We'd taken his civilian car and not the cruiser, but still, the chances of someone recognizing Jax's car parked alone in the church lot at 9:00 a.m. were high.
"Get out here," Jax instructed. "I know a spot. I'll text you when I park, and that's your cue to go in. Do not go in before. Do you understand me?"
Oh, crap. I was supposed to have gotten a phone this morning. Jax either forgot I didn't have a working one, or he assumed I'd reactivated my plan like he'd ordered. But with the appearance of the note, I'd completely forgotten. "Yes, of course. You have my number?"
"Courtesy of Donna."
"Great." Giving him my number wouldn't have been a full-fledged lie. My number was the same, it just wasn't functional.
"Good." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Be careful in there. Call me when you go in. Leave your phone on so I can hear what's going on. Say if you need something, and I'll come right in."
"Thank you." I tried for a smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
Jax's grim expression didn't harbor a lot of hope through his window as he rolled away down the street.
I took a moment for a few deep breaths, begged my heart to beat a little bit softer, and eventually gave up trying to calm myself. Moving closer toward the church, I saw no signs of Jax. I also didn't see a sign of anyone else, but that didn't mean much. If it was Father Olaf like I expected, he most likely walked here. And if it was someone who didn't want to be discovered…well, the person wouldn't leave a car parked directly out front either.
I didn't have a watch or a phone, so I was a bit clueless on the time. I knew it'd been 8:54 when I'd gotten out of Jax's car, which left six minutes before I had to meet the mystery guest. Had five minutes passed already? It easily could have. It could've been ten, for all I knew. Or one. Time was hard to judge when my adrenaline was cranking at a hundred miles an hour—it felt like the world had stopped completely.
I took a few quick steps behind a nearby trash bin and glanced around. The place was a graveyard. A slight breeze carried a few miscellaneous napkins across the front lawns and ruffled the breezes of the now-browning roses out front. The needles on the evergreen tree beside the door whispered a quiet warning, clicking against one another as if they knew of a danger that waited inside.
Goose bumps pricked my arms, and after one more quick scan of the yard and no sign of Jax, I figured he was probably already in place somewhere. He had years of training and experience. I kept telling myself that it was a good thing I couldn't see him. That meant the bad guys couldn't see him either.
Time to go, Misty. I gave myself a quick, private pep talk that I didn't ever want repeated. There was definitely some bargaining with God in there and some promises for a lot of prayers to be said.
During my pep talk, I'd crept slowly toward the large front doors of the church. I put a hand on one big knob and pulled. To my surprise, the door swung open easily and silently, and I was inside before I had a chance to think further about it.
"Hello?" My voice, though muted, echoed through the large chamber.
The carpets of the church were royal red, the pews completely empty. A few candles flickered at the front along the altar. There were a few cornucopias and fall wreathes with fresh leaves and flowe
rs on display as decorations. Under different circumstances, I would've described the place as regal. Today, however, it seemed cavernous and dark.
The confessional was at the far back, draped in a purple cloth. It was a small room, one side for the priest, the other for the confessor, and a divider in between. I pulled back the purple cloth and sat down.
There was a slight movement on the other side of the divider and the sounds of shifting clothes, though I couldn't tell who was there.
"Hello?" I whispered.
"Misty," a throaty voice croaked. "You?"
"Yes, it's me. Is that you, Father Olaf?"
"I have something to confess," he said in answer.
"We're on the wrong side of the confessional, then," I said.
There was a slightly awkward silence. "I know something about Anthony Jenkins that most people don't."
"What is it?" I pressed a hand to the divider. Please. Please be something helpful. I just needed information to clear my name from a crime I didn't commit.
There was a long, long silence, and I thought for a second he'd gotten up and left.
"Father," I hissed. "Father, please. What is it?"
Father Olaf cleared his throat. "I…I don't know if I can say."
"Why did you call me here then?"
"I want to tell you, but it was something Anthony asked me to keep a secret."
I imagined Merlin shuddering in his purple hat. "I won't say a word about it. I promise you. But if it's information I can use to clear my name…please. Anthony is dead, and I still have a life ahead of me. Please, help me."
"But—"
"Please. I won't tell anyone. What did Anthony say?"
"I…I don't even know if it was anything. He was mumbling and…and I could smell alcohol on his breath. He wasn't making much sense."
"Would you say there was a chance he was drunk?"
"A very high probability. In fact, I had to drive him home that night. Or rather, to the comic store so he could sober up before he went back to his wife. He stumbled into her one night after evening Mass and started spewing nonsense. I think it was almost as if he wanted to confess something, but it was difficult to understand him."
"Well, he didn't confide in you during confession, so you're not breaking any rules by telling me. Please, if there's something that will help, I need to know. For both my sake and for Anthony's sake. I need to find who killed him."
A long sigh escaped. "I suppose. However, you received this information from an anonymous source, and it will never be tied back to my name."
"I understand."
"Anthony recently came into money. A lot of money. Someone had a motive to kill him, but I still don't know who it was."
"Where did he get the money?"
"Inherited it when his grandmother died. They were estranged, but for some reason she left him a large chunk of her rather expansive estate."
"Who is the money left to?" I asked.
"His wife. He discussed the will with me. It was signed one day before he died."
I gulped. "Mrs. Jenkins?"
There was silence. "You must go."
"Thank you, Father," I whispered, just as I heard the soft click of the confessional door close.
I continued to sit and seriously contemplate sneaking out the back door of the church in order to avoid Jax's probably unhappy face at the sight of mine. But I figured it wasn't really worth it. He'd find me sooner or later, and it'd only get worse if I snuck off. Also, I kind of wanted a ride to Mrs. Jenkins's house. I strolled out the front door of the church, looking around. I gave a low whistle, but everything was still.
"Jax?" I hissed.
Nothing.
Dang, maybe he hadn't come, anyway. Maybe he'd kept right on rolling down the street.
I gave it a few more seconds before deciding that it'd be faster for me to hoof it back to the station on foot, rather than wait around for a ride I wasn't even sure was coming. Maybe he'd gotten distracted by a more urgent call and had forgotten me.
I felt a twinge of hurt at the thought, but I pushed it away. He'd done a lot to help me recently, and I was the one who'd insisted on going in alone in the first place. He'd offered to come with me, and I said no.
"Doesn't feel good when things don't go according to plan, does it?" Jax stepped from an alleyway next to the church, nearly giving me a heart attack in the process.
I pressed a hand to my chest. "You scared me."
"That's how I felt when I realized you'd gone inside without my signal."
I moved uncomfortably from foot to foot. I wasn't sure which story I'd be better off telling him—that I'd not gotten a new phone or that I'd blatantly disobeyed his request.
"You didn't get your plan activated, did you?"
"Not a hundred percent," I said, my eyes downward.
"Not even twenty percent." Jax stepped forward. "This is getting dangerous, you without a phone."
"I'll get one."
"Do you need a ride to the telephone store? I'll drop you off on the way to the station. I'll see you inside myself. Handcuff you to the register."
"Sure. I'd love a ride. Thanks, though I don't appreciate the sarcasm." I smiled. "But one request first. How about a ride to Mrs. Jenkins's house?"
"I'm not sure you're in a position to make requests. What happened in there?" Jax had started to walk toward his car with me following close behind, but he stopped abruptly.
"It was…someone with inside knowledge of Anthony Jenkins."
"Someone from the comic shop."
"Yes."
"Someone whose name you refuse to tell me."
"Uh, sort of." I winced, trying to forget that I'd let a few details slip when I'd talked to Sarah. Jax looked rather threatening at the moment, which almost made me change my mind. But I held out. "I promised I wouldn't say a word."
Jax sighed. "Do you trust this information?"
"I do. I really do. It's from a reliable source."
"Well?" Jax picked up his pace.
I jogged behind, climbing into the passenger side of his car before I began speaking. "Apparently Anthony had recently come into a lot of money. Some estranged grandma left it to him. It was a surprise to everyone, I guess. But it was enough money for a motive."
"Which is where Mrs. Jenkins comes in…because it was left to her?"
"You guessed it. Whatever the exact situation, she would get the money if he died. And get this—the will was signed one day before he died. It was like she killed him just after the ink dried. So tacky," I said.
"If she'd waited a week, it would've been less tacky?" Jax asked.
I frowned. "You know what I mean."
"If there really is a will, this could be our motive. I wonder why we haven't heard about it yet."
"Well, it sounded pretty new. I'm not sure how many people know about it. My contact heard it through…other channels."
Jax nodded thoughtfully. "Let's pay her a visit. We can get your phone after."
I smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate you driving me around."
"My taxi services don't come cheap." Jax raised an eyebrow.
I blushed. "I'll owe you one."
We drove in silence for a few minutes. "So Father Olaf is into the cosplay stuff, huh? I'm not totally surprised."
"How did you find out?" I asked, my mouth dropping. Recovering quickly, I tried to backtrack. "I mean, what makes you think that?"
"The fact he walked out the front doors of the church thirty seconds before you, looking more than a little flustered."
"Don't say anything," I threatened. "Or else."
"Or else what? I won't get this mysterious big 'thing' you owe me for the ride?"
"Yes. Exactly."
The jokes died down as we pulled up to Mrs. Jenkins's place. It was just as dreary as I remembered it, and I felt no warmth at the thought of going in and having another interaction with the crazy woman who probably killed her husband.
"Mrs. Jenkins didn't bring up
any sort of money issues between her and Anthony," Jax said. "I wonder why she didn't bring it up. She'd have to know we'd find out about it."
"She probably figured that nobody knew about it. And she probably didn't want people to know about it because it gives her a motive and points the smoking gun right at her. Maybe she was just biding her time so she could claim the money later, once I'm all locked up in prison."
Suddenly indignant, I pointed a finger at Jax. "That's probably why she signed up for my class. So she could keep an eye on me. That witch."
"Whoa, watch the language," Jax said. I couldn't tell if there was a subtle wink in there or not. Either way, I was steamed. Mrs. Jenkins had been trying to pin this thing on me the whole time, and I'd been teaching her how to shimmy!
"Let's go in. I want to have a chat with my student," I said, opening the car door.
Jax was already on the phone, muttering something about wills and warrants and all that sort of legal stuff.
I shut the door as he got out of the car.
"We have to be careful about this," Jax said. "We'll go inside—yes, I'm coming with you." He didn't stop at my please don't come with face. "But let's feel out the situation. I still haven't actually seen a copy of this will, and your source is a faceless man who you won't reveal."
I shrugged.
"So let's see if we can get her to admit that she omitted some details about the will. Deal? Don't go in accusatory. Let me do the talking."
I harrumphed, but I didn't disagree. As mad as I was, I kept reminding myself that at the end of the day what I really wanted was the real murderer in jail so I could go freely about my business.
"Do you have a gun?" I asked as we approached the door together.
Jax simply looked at me.
"Okay, okay," I said. "Just checking. She had a pretty big knife on her last time we came in here."
Jax exhaled a huge breath, and I thought he might've even considered doing the sign of the cross. Instead, he knocked.
I looked up at him expectantly, his face grim, eyes set straight forward. He made a good cop, I had to admit. He listened and was kind in general, stern and serious when necessary. I bet he made a great team leader. Not only because people liked him but also because he was out on the street doing the footwork with everyone else.
