Page 33 of In Her Prayers

“Thank you, Sheriff Graves,” David replied.“It’s something one never truly gets over.”

“Of course, Mr.Cavanaugh,” she replied quietly, maintaining her composed exterior.“Let’s talk about the recent incidents at the church.”

“You’ve come to tell me that one of the bodies was Rachel’s, haven’t you?”David’s statement startled both Jenna and Jake with its directness.

“We haven’t determined that for certain yet,” Jake replied, his tone cautious, measured.David leaned forward, his eyes alight with a fervor.The intensity in his gaze seemed to pull at Jenna, beckoning her into the depths of his certainty.

“But I’m sure of it.One of those bodies is my sister.And what’s more, I know who killed her.”

“Mr.Cavanaugh, if you have information about these crimes, you need to tell us.”Jenna watched as a strange calm enveloped David, a stark contrast to the tempest of emotions she’d expected.He nodded, his demeanor composed, as though he had been waiting decades to unburden himself of this knowledge.

“It was Kip Selves,” David stated with the certainty of someone who has held onto a secret for far too long.“The man who automated the carillon.”

Jenna leaned forward slightly, her fingers intertwined to mask the slight tremble she felt at the gravity of the conversation.“What makes you think that?”she asked.

“Kip was...obsessed with Rachel,” David explained, strain evident in his voice as if the memories caused him physical discomfort.“Especially her voice.He would come to every church service, every choir practice, just to hear her sing.It wasn’t healthy.”

Jenna noted the pained look that crossed David’s features, the clench of his jaw, the subtle narrowing of his eyes.She filed away each detail meticulously, aware that each nuance could be a piece to the puzzle they were desperately trying to solve.

“Obsession can be a powerful motive,” Jenna remarked, sensing the depth of the old wound she had inadvertently prodded.

Before she could delve deeper into David’s assertion, Jake cut in, skepticism lacing his tone.“And you believe he killed the other victim as well?”

David responded with an emphatic nod, his expression unchanging as he faced Jake’s questioning gaze.“I’m certain of it.”

Jenna’s brow furrowed, her analytical mind dissecting the information laid out before them.She posed the question that had been nagging at her since David’s first declaration.“Mr.Cavanaugh, when did Kip Selves die?”

“1960,” came David’s prompt reply, his voice devoid of hesitation.“Just a few days after Rachel disappeared.He had a stroke at the age of forty.”

“Forty,” she repeated quietly.Forty was a young but not unheard-of age for a fatal stroke.But there was a serious flaw in David’s accusation.

“That doesn’t add up,” Jake protested, and Jenna nodded in agreement.

“Mr.Cavanaugh,” Jenna said firmly, “if Kip Selves died in 1960, he couldn’t possibly have killed the other victim.That murder happened many years later.”She watched David closely, searching for any telltale signs of deception or evasion.

But David’s expression held no trace of doubt, his certainty as unwavering as the structure of the church whose presence seemed to fall over this very conversation.He didn’t falter, didn’t waver.It was as if the timeline discrepancies that puzzled Jenna and Jake were inconsequential to him.He just sat smiling, not withdrawing a word he had spoken.

“David,” she insisted gently, yet firmly, “logic dictates that what you’re suggesting isn’t possible.We need facts, evidence.Not just convictions.”

The room remained still, the late afternoon light filtering through the curtains.Jenna’s intuition, that unexplainable sense that guided her through many a case, buzzed at the back of her mind, alerting her to tread carefully.

David leaned forward in his armchair, the fervent gleam in his eyes brightening as if fueled by some inner fire.“Oh, but it was still Kip Selves,” he stated, his confidence unsettling.

Jake’s skepticism had not abated, and he leaned forward, mirroring David’s posture.“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said.“How could Kip Selves have committed a murder decades after his death?”

David’s next words were delivered with a chilling calm.“Because,” he began, leaning closer, his voice barely above a whisper, “ever since his death, Kip Selves has been haunting St.Michael’s Church.The last victim was killed by his ghost.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jenna observed David Cavanaugh closely, noting the way his eyes avoided direct contact.Was it the sign of a guilty conscience or the mark of a man grappling with unseen demons?

The possibility of David leveraging local lore to distract them was not lost on her, nor was the chance that grief had frayed the edges of his reality.But she had another, more unsettling thought—what if there was truth of some kind in his supernatural story?Given her own experiences with the dead, how could she deny that dim possibility?

“Mr.Cavanaugh, why do you believe Kip Selves’ ghost is haunting St.Michael’s?”Jenna’s voice cut through the quiet.She leaned forward, her green eyes fixed on the elderly man before her.

David sat with his hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer or perhaps in an attempt to steady himself.His age-lined face held a seriousness that hinted at deep convictions rather than fanciful fabrications.

“I sense his presence there constantly,” David murmured, the words slipping out like tendrils of mist.“And I’ve seen him, Sheriff.More than once.”

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