Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 02 - Fire and Lies (7 page)

The next morning, I sat behind a pane of one-way glass. The room was dark and small. It only had enough room for me and Officer Rodriguez of the Stone Harbor Police, who was monitoring the interrogation through a monitor. That monitor was the only light and was connected to a camera on the other side of the mirror-like glass.

Officer Rodriguez and I were watching the interrogation of Thomas Pritchard. The pastor was suspected of not only burning down his own church but also setting an abandoned marina outside of town aflame. More serious than the suspected arson were the murders of Robert and Destiny Branch. And Sam was tasked with trying to get answers out of Pritchard.

It was strange seeing Pastor Pritchard in the Stone Harbor Police Department interrogation room. He was a man that I had only known as gentle and kind. But he had fired a gun at me the night before. Also, he was found at the Branches’ home shortly after they were murdered. Why was he there? All signs pointed towards his guilt.

There was a part of me that wanted the pastor to be innocent. I wanted him to have some plausible explanation as to why he was at Twelve Pine Lane. I wanted to hear a reasonable explanation why he tried to shoot me. But the feeling in my gut told me that he was as guilty as sin.

Sam chose to make Pastor Pritchard wait. He was trying to make him nervous. And through the one-way glass I could see that my friend the detective’s tactics were working. Pritchard’s usually calm demeanor was shaken. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes looked defeated. Most telling was his inability to stop his legs from shaking under the table.

The door to the room Officer Rodriguez and I were in opened. It was Sam. He looked like he was ready. Both of his sleeves were rolled up and he had a manila folder in his hand.

“Everything all set?” asked Sam.

“Yup, everything’s good, Detective,” replied Officer Rodriguez.

“Great. I’m not leaving that room until I’ve broken him. This craziness ends here, today.” Sam started to leave.

“Good luck,” I said.

Sam smiled and winked at me. “I’m too good to need luck.”

After leaving our little room, Sam went out into the hallway and then into the interrogation room. Pastor Pritchard’s head shot up when he heard the door open. The detective sat down in the chair across from the pastor. Playing more mental games, Sam didn’t say anything for almost five minutes. He just opened the manila folder and went over its contents.

“What’s he doing?” asked Officer Rodriguez. “Why isn’t he saying anything?”

“He’s making him think about it,” I explained. “Letting him stew.”

Sam cleared his throat. Then he began speaking. “You are Thomas Pritchard, correct?”

“What?” asked Pastor Pritchard. The pastor knew Sam knew who he was, I could tell Sam’s question confused him.

“Your name, it’s Thomas Pritchard yes?” Sam didn’t look up from the manila folder.

“Yes.”

“And you were born May 23, 1964?”

“Yes.”

“You are, or were, the pastor at Sister Mary’s Church?”

“Yes.”

Sam looked up from his folder. “How do you know Robert and Destiny Branch?”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t? I find it interesting that you used the past tense. Why not say that you don’t?”

Pastor Pritchard shrugged. I could tell nerves were starting to get to him. His attempt to look unworried instead came off awkward and forced. “I don’t know Sam. It’s what came to mind.”

“You are a suspected criminal, Pastor. While in this police station you will refer to me as Detective Greyson. Is that understood?” Sam wanted to make it clear that he was in charge. There would be no casual familiarity between them.

“Yes, sorry, of course.” Pastor Pritchard looked down at the table.

“How do you know Robert and Destiny Branch?”

“I don’t.”

“Then what were you doing in their backyard?”

“I was lost.”

Sam smiled. “You were lost? You were in their backyard because you were lost? That’s… that’s rich. So you were lost. Where did you think you were?”

Pastor Pritchard didn’t answer.

“Look, Pastor, we’re going to go over that whole house looking for fingerprints, hair or anything else we can use to identify who was inside. And we both know I’m going to find some traces of you in there. So you might as well just tell me why you were there.” Sam was clever. Most people wouldn’t have noticed what he did. Up to that point he was only referring to Pastor Pritchard formally. Then he changed to calling him “pastor”. It was meant to loosen him up. He wanted take a chunk out of Pritchard’s guard.

“I knew Robert. He used to be one of my parishioners.” Even from a room away with a half-an-inch of glass between us, I could see that Pastor Pritchard was holding something back.

“And… ?”

“He was having a crisis.”

“What kind of crisis.”

“He called me up and told he was using again. Robert was a meth addict.”

“So you went over to … what?”

“Help him!”

“Right. So, Robert Branch calls you up and tells you he was back to smoking meth? You go over to help him, but decide to hide in his bushes instead?”

At that, the pastor sat bolt upright, his hands on the table shaking a little, suddenly flustered. “I wanted to help him!”

Sam acted like he was writing something down in the folder, but he was just scribbling on the back of some photos. It was another mental feint. When he was done pretending, he looked up at the pastor.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why were you hiding in the backyard? Why did Riley have to chase you? What were you running from, if all you were there to do was help?”

“I was scared.”

“Of what? Riley? I know she can be a little rough around the edges, but she’s certainly not scary enough to have to run from.”

“I knew that if I was seen there, I’d be blamed.”

He’d be blamed? Blamed for what? Pastor Pritchard was indirectly admitting to seeing the Branches dead. And, of course, Sam picked upon that.

“Blamed for what?” Sam took a couple of photos out of the folder. He slid them over to the pastor. They stopped right in front of him. “For that?”

The photos were a test. Seeing his reaction would be important.

Pritchard was shocked. In fact, he was too shocked. His reaction was obviously fake. And that was what Sam would be hoping for.

“What if I were to tell you that after I arrested you, we sent your gun to the crime lab in Richmond along with the bullets we found in the Branches? And what if I told you that I got a call this morning from a very nice young lady at the lab who told me that the markings on those bullets matched the barrel of said gun? Would you still try to tell me that you were there just to help out a parishioner who had fallen off the wagon? Well … would you?”

Sam was bluffing. It took much longer than twelve hours to send out evidence to the Richmond crime lab. Getting back the results took even longer. This was a gamble, but chances were the pastor was in no way aware of how long it really took.

“Maybe I need to speak to a lawyer,” said Pastor Pritchard. The gamble worked. He was nervous.

“Why? In my experience, only the guilty need lawyers. If you ask for one, I can’t talk to you anymore, and there goes a plea bargain.”

“Look, maybe I should just take a minute …”

“Look, Pastor, you’re not leaving this police station. It’s time for you to start talking or find yourself charged with two counts of murder and arson. Is that what you want?”

Pastor Pritchard didn’t say anything. He looked as if he was going over his options in his head. Sam seemed to have him right where he wanted him. Then a knock at the door to the interrogation room had both men’s heads turning to the door.

Sam got up and opened the door. One of the Stone Harbor police officers was at the door. It was a man named Hardy. “I got that information you requested, Detective.”

“Not now, Officer Hardy.” Sam looked back at Pastor Pritchard. “I’m a little busy.”

“With all due respect, Detective, this is important.”

Sam sighed. “Don’t go anywhere, Pastor. I’ll be right back.” He went out into the hallway with Officer Hardy.

I’ve always been a naturally curious person. When it came to one of my cases, that urge to know only got stronger. So, I left the dark cramped room and went into the hallway.

I found Sam and Officer Hardy talking. Hardy handed Sam a file, then left.

“What is it?” I asked as I walked up to Sam.

“It’s Pritchard’s records.”

“And?”

Sam handed me the file. “Read it.”

Much to my surprise, the file on Thomas Pritchard was pretty long. The pastor was from nearby Saluda. At the age of seventeen he had been arrested for the first time in his life. According to what I was reading, it was for breaking and entering. Four arrests and nine years later he did a stint at Statesville Prison in Northern Virginia. That charge was assault and battery.

I met Pastor Pritchard when I was eighteen. Richard had managed to convince me to go to church with him after years of trying. The man I had met was gentle and so very kind. Not once did I ever suspect he had such a dark past. Never would I ever have even considered that he was an ex-criminal. And not in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought he’d shoot at me.

The file didn’t lie. The man in the room feet away from me was a stranger. I was okay with that. Getting shot at has a way of souring you on people.

“I had no idea,” I said as I handed the file back to Sam.

“I don’t think anyone did. This changes things. The kid gloves are coming off.” Sam headed back into the interrogation room. I went back into the other room with Office Rodriguez.

Sam didn’t sit back down. Instead he walked around the room. He wanted to reinforce the feeling in the room that he was in charge. At times, he loomed over Pritchard.

“Mr. Pritchard, you are guilty of murder. We both know that. You’re going back to prison.” When Sam mentioned prison, the pastor put his hands over his face. Handcuffed to the table, he had to lean into them.

“It was me,” said Pritchard through his hands.

“What was that?”

“I did it!” Pritchard put his hands down.

Sam was flabbergasted. I don’t think he expected it to be so easy. Usually, interrogations go on for at least an hour, oftentimes more. “Did what, exactly? I need to hear you say it, Pastor.”

Pastor Pritchard stood up straight. He wiped tears from his eyes. Without looking at Sam, he started to explain. “I guess I’ll start from the beginning.”

“That’s always a good place to start,” said Sam as he sat down across from the pastor.

“I think there’s something wrong with this thing,” said Officer Rodriguez. He was a little panicked. But I didn’t really care, I had to know what the pastor was saying. In the background, I heard him fiddling with the monitor.

“When I was in Statesville, I started studying theology. I got ordained while still behind bars. While serving the inmates, I met Janice Wen.”

“Wait, Doctor Janice Wen?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, she was visiting from Fresh Horizons, the rehab center. We started talking and then she told me how the center worked. She told me about the drugs, and how they were running them out of Fresh Horizons.

“At first I shrugged it off. I only had a couple of months left and I was determined to stay on the straight and narrow, you know? But shortly after being released, I was hit by a mountain of debt. What they don’t tell you when you get locked up is that no one cancels your cable, phone or even your rent.

“Since being a pastor doesn’t pay very well, I contacted Dr. Wen. She said all I had to do was steer any of my wayward parishioners to Fresh Horizons. In return, I’d get a percentage of the rehab fees for each person I sent.

“When you raided Fresh Horizons, everything fell apart. The evidence had to be destroyed. The people who I worked for … they would do anything to cover up. They burnt my church and the marina.”

“None of this explains why you killed the Branches.”

Pastor Pritchard looked up at Sam. “Either I killed them or I would’ve been killed. And I was too much of a coward. So I snuck in and I …” Pritchard started crying. “I shot them.”

“And the thermite?”

Pritchard appeared very confused. “Thermite?”

“The stuff you made the bombs out of. The way you started the fires.”

“I don’t…”

Sam shot up and banged the table. “Don’t bullshit me, Pastor. We found it all in the basement. There’s enough chemicals down there for more than the fires so far. Where are the remaining bombs?”

“I don’t know anything about any bombs. I just admitted to murdering two people, why would I lie about the … what did you call it? Thermite?”

“Who did you work for, then? Who made you kill them?”

Pritchard didn’t answer.

“Who did you work for?” Sam was persistent.