Thirty and a Half Excuses (29 page)

Jonah stopped at an authentic Mexican food restaurant that served takeout. I had recently noticed it next to the caf� I’d eaten at that fateful night months ago…

Everything always seemed to be swinging me back to Momma’s death. Would it ever be behind me?

We ordered tacos and drinks, and then walked to the park, sitting on a bench overlooking the small pond. A small breeze kicked up, blowing off the water and bringing the temperature down several degrees under the tree branches.

“I love this park,” Jonah said, handing me a taco. “I like to come here when I’m stumped on a sermon or I need to think.”

“Do you get stumped very often?”

He laughed. “More often than you’d probably think.”

I took a bite of my taco, surprised at how good it was. “I’ve never eaten at this restaurant. I didn’t even know they were here until a week ago.”

“Yeah, it’s new. It opened a few weeks before your nursery, but they’re Mexicans and they’re pretty small, so they didn’t get the same attention as you and Violet did with your business.”

My hand stopped mid-air.

Jonah’s eyes widened. “Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m begrudging you the publicity. But I understand how it works; citizens with deep roots are the pillars in a community like this one. The transplants live on the fringe.”

“You don’t seem to be doing too badly.”

He shrugged. “True. But I’ll never fit in here. I think that’s part of the reason I’m drawn to the outcasts and strays of society. I want to give them a place where they feel welcome and at home.”

If Jonah Pruitt was giving me a propaganda speech, he was doing a mighty fine job. Sitting under the shade trees, he seemed different. The TV personality had faded away, leaving a man who looked a little beaten down.

“What was Thomas doing at the church on Friday?”

He took a bite, then swallowed. “I started an outreach program for teens on the edge. Kids who are getting into trouble, but not past saving.” He turned to me. “Not that anyone is past saving; it’s just easier to turn some back into productive members of society than it is with others.”

“Oh.” I was starting to rethink my assumptions about Reverend Jonah Pruitt.

He hung his head over for several seconds, looking very much like a defeated man, and then he sat up with a sigh. “It’s been a rough week.”

“You had two members of your church die in one week.”

“Three in two weeks.” He put down his food, suddenly looking nervous. “I know you helped Bruce Wayne, and that you were instrumental in putting Daniel Crocker in prison.”

Leery, I rested my hands in my lap, wondering what he was getting at.

He focused on something on the other side of the pond. “This has happened before.”

“What’s happened before?” And then I realized what he was saying. “People dying? Is that why you left Homer?”

He nodded. “There were two deaths, but they were spaced months apart. No one noticed the connection to me, but it was why I left. I needed to make sure no one else got hurt.”

I sank back into the seat, my voice hardening. “Did they leave their money to you too?”

His eyes grew wild. “I didn’t know Dorothy Thorntonbury did that, Rose. You have to believe me. I was as shocked as Christy was when I found out.”

“Did the others leave their money or houses to you?”

“I have no idea. No one has come to me about it yet.”

“So other than coming to your church, what’s the tie to you?”

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I spent time with them.”

“What does that mean?”

He squirmed. “Older women tend to get lonely…”

I scrunched my eyes closed. “Eww. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“No!” Jonah shouted. “Not like that! I just spent time with them is all. They like the company, and I like the cooking. Sometimes we play cards or watch TV.”

“So why would you eating Sunday dinner with them get them killed?”

“I have no idea.”

“Were the women in Homer both older?”

He shook his head, looking down. “No, the first one was an older woman whom I’d visited many times. I was quite fond of her.” He paused. “But the second was younger. She was my age.” He cleared his throat. “We’d begun spending time together.”

“You two were dating?”

He nodded.

“And so you left? Just like that? You saw a pattern between two dead women that the police didn’t, and you just
left
? Didn’t you want justice for your girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend. We had only gone out a few times.” He hunched over, wringing his hands. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.”

He kept his gaze lowered. “There’s a reason I help troubled youth on the fringes of society. I was there once, and I have a criminal record to show for it. Jail time included. When I got out, I vowed to go the straight and narrow. If the police found out… let’s just say I’d be their top suspect.”

“Aren’t you already their top suspect?”

He cringed. “If they find out, I suspect I’d get a trial like Bruce Wayne’s. That’s why I was checking into you and how you helped him.”

What he was not saying hit me like a two-by-four. “You want me to help you.” I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m not a private investigator, Jonah.”

“You helped Bruce Wayne.”

I stood, facing the water. “That was different.”

“Not really.”

“It is. I knew he was innocent.”

“I’m innocent. I swear it.”

Something in his desperation made me believe him, but I still didn’t quite trust him. “If I agree to help you, you have to tell me everything. The truth.”

“Deal.”

This was crazy. I helped put two murderers behind bars and now people expected me to solve crimes. What on earth were we paying the Henryetta police for?

I sat down on the bench and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Okay, but first I’m going to try something, and it’s going to look and sound crazy.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Okay.”

I grabbed his hand and closed my eyes. This was insane. But what if Neely Kate was right? What if I could use my visions to see things that could help rather than hurt? Besides, if Jonah thought I was a loon, he’d send me away, and I could get out of this guilt-free.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You asked me if I knew things… Well, I do, and this is how. But you gotta keep quiet.”

“Okay.”

What did I want to know? If he was innocent, but also if he knew anything that would help me find Bruce Wayne and figure out who the killer was. I concentrated on Jonah and his time in Henryetta and how he’d come here from Homer. I waited for a good ten seconds, and just when I’d decided nothing was going to happen, a vision appeared in my head.

I was in a dark room. When my eyes adjusted, I saw it was a bedroom. The sound of heavy breathing filled the quiet, and it took me half a second to realize it was coming from me.

I moved to the door and called out, “Who’s there?”

When no one answered, I grabbed a baseball bat from under the bed and opened the door, my hand shaking so badly it took several attempts.

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s nothing,” I mumbled over and over in a low chant as I tiptoed down the hall. Stopping at the entrance to the living room, I slowly spun around. I didn’t see anything so I let out a loud exhale, my shoulders slumping in relief until I heard a low voice from the dark shadows of the dining room.

“I brought you a little present.”

I nearly dropped the bat as I spun around to see who had called out. My heart beat against my ribcage when I saw a dark figure in the shadows, standing behind someone who was tied to a kitchen chair with rope.

The shadows hid the hostage’s face, but I could tell that she was wearing what looked like a silky nightgown dress. Her feet were bare. Her hands were on her thighs, and the moonlight lit up the diamond ring on her finger. She had to be unconscious because her head was leaning forward, her long dark hair covering her face.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked in a whine.

The person with the hood held a gun to the woman’s head. “You’ll thank me later.” Then a loud sound filled the room, and the woman’s body jerked as blood splattered against the wall. I shouted my alarm, and the murderer handed the gun to me, to Jonah. “Take it. You have work to do, Jonas.”

The vision faded, and my eyes flew open. “Someone’s going to kill a woman in your kitchen.”

His face paled. “How do you know that?”

The vision had sent an adrenaline rush through my body, but now it crashed and I started violently trembling as though it was thirty degrees outside and I was in a wet swimming suit. My stomach rebelled, and I leaned over the other side of the bench, vomiting onto the grass.

“Rose, how do you know that?” Jonah’s voice rose to a high pitch.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, tears streaming down my cheeks. I fought to catch my breath.

I’d just watched someone die.

I’d had visions of myself dead and Joe dying, but I’d never witnessed someone else’s actual death. As violent as it was, I knew I could have witnessed far worse things. The poor woman could have been tortured. But this was the worst thing
I’d
ever seen.

“Rose, how do you know that?” Jonah was panicking.

I needed to get control. Freaking out wasn’t going to do either of us any good. I took a deep breath. “I…I have visions. I can see things in the future. I saw a woman murdered in your kitchen.”

Jonah made the sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

I gaped. “I thought you were Protestant.”

“My church is non-denominational, but I was raised Catholic. Some habits die hard.”

Wrong choice of words. I threw up again.

Jonah was calmer. He’d gotten ahold of himself sooner than I had. But then again, he hadn’t watched someone get shot in the head. “Why would you have
that
vision?”

When my stomach settled, I brushed back the hair hanging in my face. “I wanted to see if you were telling me the truth about being innocent. That was what I saw.”

“So you believe me?”

I nodded, a queasy feeling still in the pit of my stomach.

“Who was the poor woman?”

I swallowed down a sob. “I don’t know. The kitchen was dark, and she was tied to a chair. Her head was slumped forward, so I couldn’t see her face.”

“Are you sure she was murdered?”

The scene replayed in my head, blood and all, making me queasy. I nodded again, fighting to keep it together. “A person wearing a hood pointed a gun at the woman’s head and shot her.”

“Oh, God.” Jonah started to hyperventilate. “Who killed her?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t recognize the voice, and the person’s features were completely concealed. He or she said that they’d brought you a present and that you’d thank them for it later. Then the person shot whoever the woman was and told you it was time to get to work.”

“Work? Doing what?”

“I don’t know.”

Jonah rested his head between his hands. “We don’t know anything.”

“That’s not true. I know you’re not involved. You were confused and horrified.”

“Can we keep this from happening?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Not everything I see happens, so there’s a chance we can stop it. I just don’t know how to at this point.”

“Lord help us.”

I needed to clear my head and think straight. I cast a glance at Jonah. “Why did the person in my vision call you Jonas?”

His face paled even more. “That’s my real name. I changed it to Jonah when I became a minister because of my record. The biblical Jonah needed a big wakeup call to do God’s work. It seemed fitting.”

“Who around here knows your real name?”

“No one. I made sure of it.” He paused. “Some people don’t believe in rehabilitation.”

“But you do. That’s why you started the support group to give those kids a chance. Who shows up for it?”

“Teens and rehabilitated criminals who become mentors to the kids.”

“How do you know they’re rehabilitated?”

He shrugged. “They have to provide references. Like employers.”

“Does anyone in the group work at Weston’s Garage?”

His eyes flew wide at the mention of the business name, and then he tried to cover his reaction. “I’m not at liberty to tell you. All participants are guaranteed anonymity.”

I grabbed his arm. “This is important, Jonah. Do any of them work at Weston’s?”

He grimaced. “Several.”

My fingers pinched his arm. “Define several.”

He pulled loose from my grasp. “Rose, I’ve sworn to give them protection.”

“Jonah, this could be the difference between life and death.”

He rubbed his temples. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He swallowed. “Five, maybe six.”

“Is there a bald guy that comes? With snake tattoos on his neck?”

Jonah tensed. “How did you know that?”

My chest felt like an elephant had sat on it. “I don’t think you’re running a support group.”

“Of course, I am. You don’t believe me?”

“I believe that you think that’s what you’re doing. But it sounds like your group is using it to recruit kids for Daniel Crocker’s gang.”

“What? No! I sit in on the meetings myself. They never discuss illegal activities. We have a Bible study.”

“What happens after the meetings?”

He looked bewildered. “They leave.”

“Do they hang around in the parking lot and talk?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes they just leave.”

I didn’t know what Bruce Wayne had seen at the church, but I was sure it involved the support group. “Did Bruce Wayne go to your support group last Friday after I left?”

Jonah stood and began to pace, looping his hands around the back of his neck. “Rose, I can’t tell you that. This group is supposed to be anonymous.”

“Jonah, do you understand the enormity of this? Telling me whether he went or not could mean saving his life!”

He closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration. “Yes. He came.”

I jumped off the bench and headed to the park entrance. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” he called after me. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet, but if you see Christy Hansen, run the other way. She has a gun, and I have no doubt she plans to shoot you with it.”