“Annie tried to convince me otherwise but I knew. I’m not that stupid. That’s why I wasn’t in town when she was killed. I’d left to think and figure out what to do next.”
She doubled back to the critical question hoping for an answer this time. “She never told you who he was?”
“I demanded she tell me but she refused. Said it would do no good to ruin another life.” He shook his head, his disgust clear. “Okay for her to lie to me and mess with my life but she didn’t want to hurt her boyfriend. If I found out who he was today, I think I’d shoot the bastard. He did a royal job of fucking up my life.”
One week Dawson had been a man in love with a baby on the way and the next he’d lost both. “I see why you were mad.”
“Yeah, I was pissed. Real pissed. But not so pissed that I forgot Annie’s warning about Margaret.” He shoved out a breath. “That’s all you are getting from me.”
She followed. “Who adopted the baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“How could you not know?”
“The cops took her away and I never saw her again. I signed the papers but didn’t read them. End of story.”
“Just like that.”
“I had enough trouble on my hands in those days with the media hounding me.” He cursed. “What a nightmare. Annie was pretty but she was a lying bitch.” He grabbed his earbud. “If I see you again, I’m calling the cops.”
She watched him jog away, no desire to follow. The letters had not been to Bill. Who had been Annie’s lover? And what had the cops done with the baby?
Pastor Gary had arranged the marriage. Perhaps he remembered Annie.
Rachel showered and dressed in dark dress pants and a dark V-necked sweater. She chose simple jewelry and enough makeup to cover her bruise. She arrived at the large white church minutes after three. The parking lot was full, but she’d heard the church ran an aggressive outreach program. She pushed through large double doors and followed signs marked PASTOR’S OFFICE. In the distance she could hear a choir practicing. According to the church’s website they were known for their music. She’d watched video clips on the church’s site. The Saturday night and Sunday morning services rivaled many Broadway productions. Pastor Gary knew how to draw people in to fill his one thousand seat auditorium.
She made her way to the office and found the reception area empty. She glanced around, looking for a receptionist, and when she found none she peeked down the hallway to a door marked PASTOR’S OFFICE. After one last look and seeing no one she made her way toward the door that was slightly ajar. She glanced through the opening and found a richly carpeted office furnished with deep mahogany furniture. A man’s baritone voice echoed out. She looked in and saw a tall, gray-haired man staring out a large window, a cell phone pressed to his ear.
Rachel knocked once. The man turned, he muttered into the phone before closing it. “I’m looking for Pastor Gary.”
He smiled, as if that were his go-to response for everyone. “I’m Pastor Gary. How did you get in here?”
“Just walked in.”
“No one was at the receptionist desk?”
“No.”
He shook his head. “I’ve had a series of temps since my secretary had to take medical leave.”
“Kate. I met her.” She tightened her grip on her purse strap. “My name is Rachel Wainwright. I’m . . .”
“I know who you are.” His lips curled easily into a soft smile that made her feel at ease. “You made quite a showing on the TV.”
She adjusted her purse strap, which weighed heavily on her bruised shoulder that still ached from her run. “One of my more memorable moments.”
“You are representing Jeb Jones.”
Relieved by his lack of censor, she inched into the office. “I am.”
“He was a poor lost soul. What he did was horrible but he was a sick man and I know God has forgiven him.”
“How well did you know Annie?”
His gaze turned wistful and sad. “Cops asked the same question.”
“Deke Morgan visited you?”
“That’s right.” He adjusted his cuff. “Like I told him, she sang in the church choir. She had the voice of an angel and we always loved having her sing. Good music has a way of freeing the soul.” His soft even tones resonated like a lullaby.
“You introduced her to her husband, Bill Dawson.”
“They met at my church. He was a good kind soul as was Annie. A natural fit. I married them.”
“And her baby was born seven months later.”
He frowned as if she’d struck a sour note. “It is not my place to judge, Ms. Wainwright.”
“Bill Dawson was not the baby’s father.”
He raised a brow. “Who told you that?”
“He did.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
He glanced toward a cross on the wall and then back at her. “I think he has allowed time to rewrite his story.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Guilt. He all but threw that baby away after Annie went missing. As soon as her body was found he signed the adoption papers.”
“He said he figured out the baby wasn’t his after she was born. He confronted Annie and she confessed. He was furious. Felt as if he’d been played for a fool.”
His head tilted as if she’d struck a sour note. “Did she tell him this mystery man’s name?”
“No. She refused to tell. I was hoping as her pastor, you might have known his identity.”
“She never confided in me. I didn’t realize Bill wasn’t the father until about thirty seconds ago when you told me.”
“You don’t remember her hanging around with anyone at the church? No one showed her any special interest?”
“A lot of men showed her interest. She was beautiful.”
“But no one special?”
“No.” He frowned. “And I’m not comfortable having this conversation with you. Annie is with the Lord now and she does not deserve to be maligned. She may not have been perfect but those who are without sin can cast the first stone.” The minister stood silent as he might have done at the end of a sermon.
Instead of an amen, she asked, “Who took Annie’s baby?”
“Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you. She was a total innocent in that terrible mess and she deserves to be left out of it.”
“She has a right to know what happened to her mother and the identity of her biological father.”
“We all wanted that child to have a happy life. And it is my fondest hope that she received one. Don’t dig it up.”
Rachel shifted tactics. “Kate misses this place.”
A ghost of a strained smile played on his lips. “Kate is a beautiful soul. She helped build this church and we won’t be the same without her. I saw her yesterday.” He let the words trail. “How is she doing?”
“The cancer is taking a toll.”
“Yes. It’s tragic.” His voice dipped, like the low note in an opera. “I need to get by and pay her another visit.”
“I’m sure she would appreciate that.”
His tone hinted of deep annoyance rarely seen. “Why did you go see Kate?”