Page 40 of Silent Night

Natalie pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "Let's see if he's willing to cooperate first. If he's not forthcoming, then we can switch gears."

Sheila appreciated her sister's tactical mind, even if it sometimes served to remind her of the competitive streak that had always existed between them. She steeled herself, remembering the victims and the urgent need to find answers. They needed to get information from Pastor Walden, and she was ready to do whatever it took.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob, her pulse quickening as she prepared herself for the confrontation. She glanced at Natalie, who gave a reassuring nod, and then she turned the handle. The door creaked open to reveal the small, windowless interview room.

The walls, painted a sterile shade of gray, seemed to close in on them as they entered. A single flickering light hung above the table, casting eerie shadows that danced across the floor. In the center of the room, Pastor David Walden sat with an unexpected air of calmness, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"Pastor Walden," Sheila began, taking a seat across from him while Natalie positioned herself beside her sister. "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Of course," he replied, his voice steady and confident. "I'll help in any way I can."

Walden's placid demeanor threw Sheila off balance, and she found herself questioning whether this man could truly be connected to the brutal murders they were investigating. His blue eyes held no trace of deceit or fear, and his posture remained relaxed, betraying nothing.

"We know Jennifer Bainbridge was a member of your congregation," Natalie said. "What about a woman named Hadley Ferguson?"

Walden frowned. "Can't say I know the name. Should I?"

Sheila studied Walden's face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. His forthright manner left her feeling uncertain, and she couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of her mind. Were they barking up the wrong tree? Or was he simply a master manipulator?

"Can you think of anyone else within your congregation who might have had a motive to harm these women?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Absolutely not," Walden replied, his eyes never leaving Sheila's. "I know my flock well, and I can assure you that none of them are capable of such heinous acts."

Sheila's thoughts raced as she weighed the pastor's words. He seemed so genuine, but she knew better than to take people at face value in this line of work. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not when lives were at stake.

"Pastor Walden," Natalie began, her tone shifting to a more personal note. "Could you tell us a bit about your own life—your marriage, perhaps? I can't help noticing your wedding ring."

Sheila observed Walden's eyes soften as he nodded, taking a deep breath. "My wife, Sarah, and I were married for nearly fifteen years," he began, his voice tinged with melancholy. "She passed away almost ten years ago after a hard battle with stomach cancer. I can't seem to convince myself to stop wearing the ring, though."

Natalie offered a sympathetic nod, her own expression mirroring the pastor's sorrow. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been a difficult time for you."

"Indeed, it was," he admitted, his gaze lost in memories. "But my faith and my devotion to the church helped me through the darkest days. In a way, Sarah's passing made me even more dedicated to serving the Lord and my congregation. I still regret that we were never able to have children, though. It was one of the greatest disappointments of an otherwise-happy life together."

"You wouldn't be familiar, then," Natalie asked, "with a dating app called Birds of a Feather?"

Walden furrowed his brow, puzzled. "I'm afraid not. I've never heard of it."

"That's interesting," Natalie mused, her eyes narrowing slightly, "because the computer in your office was used to create two profiles on that very app. Someone then logged into these profiles to communicate with two women who were later murdered, one of whom was Jennifer Bainbridge."

At this revelation, Walden's complexion paled, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak but no words came forth. His placid demeanor crumbled, replaced by a sudden vulnerability that left Sheila questioning everything she had seen so far.

Natalie leaned forward, her gaze locked onto Walden's now pale face. "Are you sure you don't know what I'm talking about?" she asked.

Walden's eyes flickered between the two sisters, but he remained silent, his hands clasped tightly together on the table. Sheila studied his expression, searching for any signs of deception or guilt. The sudden silence unnerved her, and she found herself questioning whether this was an admission or simply fear.

"Pastor Walden," Natalie pressed, her patience wearing thin. "What are you hiding from us? What don't you want to say?"

Still, he said nothing. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and the knuckles of his clasped hands had turned white from the pressure. The more Walden refused to speak, the more Sheila felt a nagging suspicion that perhaps he wasn't the killer, but rather protecting someone else.

"Very well, Pastor," Natalie sighed, exasperated. She gave him one last penetrating look before pushing back from the table and turning her wheelchair toward the door. "We'll give you some time to think about what you want to say."

Sheila followed her sister out of the room, casting a final glance at Walden as the door clicked shut behind them. In the hallway, Natalie's frustration was palpable, her fingers gripping the wheels of her chair tightly.

"What do you think, Sheila?" she asked, her voice low and tense.

Sheila hesitated for a moment, weighing her thoughts. "I don't know, Nat. I can't shake the feeling that maybe he's protecting someone. That computer could have been used by anyone in the church."

Natalie's eyes narrowed, distrust lingering in her gaze. "He could be the killer, Sheila. We can't rule him out just because he seems like a nice guy. We need to keep digging."

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