Page 18 of Silent Night

"Actually, there was one man from our church," Mrs. Bainbridge said, her expression growing taut with distaste. "Simon West was his name. He tried to date Jennifer, but I didn't like him. He was...a creep."

Intrigued by this revelation, Sheila leaned forward in her chair. "What made him creepy? Can you give us any specific details?"

The room fell silent for a moment, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Mrs. Bainbridge's eyes darted around as though searching for an unseen escape route before finally settling on her daughter's image once more.

"They only went on one date," she said. "Had dinner at a restaurant. Jennifer said that when she came out of the restroom, she found him digging through her purse."

"Looking for money?" Natalie asked.

Mrs. Bainbridge shook her head. "Pulling clumps of Jennifer's hair from her brush."

CHAPTER NINE

Sheila followed Natalie up the ramp that led to the imposing double doors of the old church. The scent of damp earth and wilting flowers hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unanswered prayers. Sheila's thoughts circled the details Mrs. Bainbridge had shared about Simon West, the church member who had tried to steal Jennifer's hair from her hair brush. It sent shivers down Sheila's spine to think that a house of worship could be the place where Jennifer's killer had found her.

They had run a background check on West during their drive to the church, but without results. Whoever this guy was, he was squeaky clean—which could be a testimony either to his innocence or to his ability to get away with his crimes.

The church was grand, its walls made of thick stone and aged wood, darkened by time. Stained glass windows cast an eerie kaleidoscope of colors on the ground as the sun fought to pierce through them. A tarnished cross loomed above the entrance, watching over the silent building like a sentinel.

"Strange to think what secrets this place might hide," murmured Natalie, echoing Sheila's thoughts.

"Let's hope they're secrets we can uncover," said Sheila, balling her hand into a fist and knocking firmly on the door. The sound rolled back at them, cold and hollow. She frowned slightly, her mind racing with possibilities. "Do you think anyone's here?"

"Someone's here," Natalie said, her gaze drifting over to an old station wagon parked nearby. "The question is, who?"

Just as Sheila was about to knock again, the door creaked open, revealing a kind-looking man in his fifties. His hair was thinning and graying at the temples, but his eyes held a warmth that lit up his entire face. A pair of glasses perched on his nose, giving him an air of approachability.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said with a smile, his voice gentle. "I'm David Walden, the pastor here at Salvation Springs. How can I help you?"

"Hello, Pastor Walden," Natalie said, taking the lead. "I'm Sheriff Natalie Stone, and this is my sister, Sheila. We're here to ask about two of your church members."

Sheila studied David's face as her sister spoke, struck by how ordinary he appeared. He seemed like someone who would offer a shoulder to cry on, and it was not difficult to understand how he'd gotten his role. He had the kind of gentle, unassuming manner that invited trust.

"Of course," David said, his brow furrowing with concern. "Please, come into my office so we can speak more privately."

Sheila followed David into the church, with Natalie wheeling herself in right behind her. As the heavy wooden doors closed, a hushed reverence blanketed the space. The interior was immaculate, with polished wooden pews lining the center aisle and vibrant stained-glass windows casting kaleidoscopic light on the walls. A large, intricately carved altar stood at the front of the church, and Sheila couldn't help but be struck by its solemn beauty.

As they walked, she noticed several religious items – a rosary draped over a pew, an open Bible resting on a stand, and a few small statuettes of saints – that reminded her of similar items found in Jennifer's room. She found herself wondering if Jennifer's faith had brought her any consolation in her final moments.

"Today," David said, breaking the silence as he led them through the church, "I'm preparing for our annual charity drive. We're collecting food and clothing for local families in need, and we'll be hosting a dinner event next week to raise funds for a local fostering program. Fostering is very dear to our hearts here at Salvation Springs." His voice was warm and welcoming, clearly passionate about his work and the community he served.

Sheila listened closely, observing the pastor's demeanor and noting the genuine enthusiasm in his eyes. Despite the tragic circumstances of their visit, it was evident that David cared deeply for his congregation and their well-being.

"Ah, here we are," he said, stopping before a door with a brass nameplate reading 'Pastor David Walden.'

As they entered David's office, Sheila couldn't help but notice the contrast between the grandeur of the church's main hall and the modesty of this small room. The cozy space was filled with bookshelves lined with religious texts and framed photographs depicting joyous moments shared among the congregation members. A simple wooden desk stood against one wall, a few family photos and a small cross adorning its surface, along with a computer that had to be at least a decade old.

"Please, have a seat," David said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. Natalie maneuvered her wheelchair into position beside Sheila, who found herself observing the pastor's every movement as he took his place behind the desk.

"Tell me, how can I help you both?" David asked, concern etching his features.

Natalie hesitated before she spoke. "Pastor Walden, we're here to discuss Jennifer Bainbridge, one of your church members. She...she's been murdered."

David's eyes widened in shock, and he visibly paled. "My God... That's...that's terrible news. Jennifer was such a sweet, kind soul. How did this happen?"

"Her body was found in the Great Salt Lake," Natalie said, her voice steady despite the gruesome details. "She was strangled."

Sheila watched as David processed the information, his face contorted with grief. She could see the struggle within him—a man of faith grappling with the evil and pain that had invaded his community.

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