Rising Darkness (19 page)

“I—I don't know.” I stared into his green eyes in the mirror, and I saw concern etched on his face. “We need to get inside. Can we have this discussion later?”

He paused and looked out the window for a moment. “You need to know that Jonathon and I talked before the service. He asked me what you'd shared with me, and I told him. I hope you're not angry, but I couldn't lie about it.”

“I'm not mad. I was going to tell him anyway.”

“He's very concerned about you, and so am I.”

“I know,” I said. “Hopefully this will be over soon.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I'm hoping Martin Hatcher and Ben Johnson will be at the restaurant today. For now, they're my prime suspects. I'd like to get a closer look at them.”

“And then what?”

“I'm not sure. No matter how Chase has changed the way he looks, I think I can still recognize him. I have to try. It's all I've got.”

I'd told myself—and Jonathon—this same thing more than
once, but I suddenly realized that Jonathon hadn't recognized me when he'd seen me again. Had I put too much stock in being able to identify Chase by sight?

“You don't sound very confident,” Nate said.

“I know. Look, let's get inside. If I don't get a good look at Hatcher and Johnson inside the restaurant, I'm going to track them down this afternoon. If it's not too late.” I didn't say it, but the notes, the fire . . . all these things pointed to someone who knew exactly what I was up to. Add that to all the people who knew what I was really doing in Sanctuary, and it made getting my story before everything blew up in my face almost impossible.

We got out of the car and went into the restaurant. I gazed around the packed room and saw Zac sitting at a large table, waving us over.

“Man, what took you guys so long?” he asked as we sat down. “I thought I was going to have to fight several little old ladies for this spot.”

As I slid into my chair, I noticed some people standing at the front of the restaurant, shooting us looks that weren't appropriate for a Sunday.

“Who are the other chairs for?” I asked.

“Esther, Wynter, Reuben, and Jonathon.”

“Jonathon?” I gulped. “Did he say he was coming?”

Zac looked at me like I was crazy. “No. It's my psychic ability kicking in.” He laughed. “Yes, he grabbed me when I was coming in today and asked where we were going after church. I told him we were having lunch here, and he asked me to save him a seat.”

I just nodded and turned my attention to the menu sitting
in front of me. I wanted to see Jonathon, but a part of me was afraid. Afraid he was sorry about last night.

I was trying to decide between chicken and dumplings and fried catfish when someone sat down in the chair next to me. I looked up from my menu and found Jonathon gazing at me. I could swear my heart stopped beating for a moment, although I was fairly certain that wasn't really physically possible. After giving him a quick smile, I turned my attention back to the menu. Unfortunately, I couldn't make sense of the words any longer. The only thing I could think about was how near he was to me.

“Great sermon today, Jonathon,” Zac said from across the table. “It really spoke to me.”

“I'm glad,” Jonathon said. “We all have things from the past we have to deal with. It's a pretty universal struggle.”

“I agree,” Nate said softly.

I glanced over at Nate and could tell by the expression on his face that something in Jonathon's sermon had hit home. Seemed Jonathon was right. Very few people had perfect lives.

Jonathon touched me lightly on the arm, and I jumped. I turned to look at him and found him looking past me.

He leaned in close and whispered, “That man over there. The one sitting alone—that's Martin Hatcher.”

I went back to staring at my menu for a few seconds so it wouldn't look suspicious if he was looking our way. When I finally lifted my head and turned toward the spot Jonathon had indicated, I found myself staring into the face of a man who could easily be Terrance Chase.

He was the customer in the post office who'd seen my picture of the missing criminal.

I turned back quickly to Jonathon. “I saw him in the post office,” I whispered. “I accidentally mixed up my picture of Terrance Chase with my mail. I think he saw it. He could have figured out what I was up to the day I arrived here. I think he's behind everything that's happened.”

Jonathon put his hand on my arm. “Don't overreact. He's looking over here.”

“What's going on?” Nate asked.

I turned away from Jonathon. “See the guy sitting by himself? Against the far wall? That's Martin Hatcher.”

“Does he look like Chase?”

I nodded. “Red hair. Square-shaped face. I can't see if he has hazel eyes or a cleft in his chin from here. Especially since he's wearing glasses.”

“You people are starting to make me feel insecure.” Zac frowned. “Are you talking about me? Do I look funny or something?”

“I'm sorry,” Jonathon said. “No, we're not talking about you. And you don't look any funnier than normal.”

Zac rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks. I feel so much better now.”

“We'll talk about this later, okay?” Jonathon said to Nate and me.

“Sure. Sorry, Zac,” I said.

Zac picked up his menu but kept his eyes on us. “Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?”

“That man over there looks like someone I might know,” I said, “but I'm not sure. I didn't want to say anything to him in case I'm wrong.”

To my horror, Nate got out of his seat and walked over to Hatcher's table. He leaned over and said something. Hatcher looked up at him and nodded. Nate picked up the bottle of ketchup on the table and brought it back toward us. It was then that I noticed Nate had removed the ketchup from our table and put it on the floor near his chair.

“What is wrong with you?” I hissed when he sat back down next to me.

He put the bottle on the table and smiled. “You wanted to know his eye color and if he has a cleft chin, right?”

At that moment, the front door swung open and Esther came in, accompanied by Wynter and Reuben. As they made their way toward our table, I glared at Nate.

“You should have asked me first.”

“Do you want to know the answer?”

I glanced over at Esther. They were almost halfway across the room.

“Yes. Tell me. Quickly.”

“Hazel eyes. Cleft chin. I could tell since his beard is trimmed short. I believe you've found him.”

“Found who?” Zac said, frustration in his voice.

“Later, okay?” Jonathon said under his breath.

Zac nodded, just as Esther got to the table. She sat down next to him. Wynter and Reuben took the last empty seats.

“I am sorry we are late,” Esther said. “Surely you all did not wait for me.”

“No one's taken our order yet,” Jonathon told her. “It's pretty busy.”

At that moment, Maxie stepped up to the table. “So glad to see you, Esther.” She smiled at the old woman. “What can I get you to drink?”

Zac grinned. “Now I know how to get great service. Just eat with Esther.”

Maxie reached over and slapped him lightly on the arm. “I was on my way over before Esther got here. But I do have to admit that she's better lookin' than you.”

The rest of us laughed while Zac struck a comical pose, his bottom lip sticking out. “And I thought you loved me, Maxie.”

I tried to take part in the friendly banter, but I couldn't look away from Martin Hatcher. Was I staring at Terrance Chase? Had my search finally come to an end?

Hatcher seemed to be concentrating on his meal, so I prayed Nate's ploy hadn't tipped him off. Although he'd appeared to be looking at me earlier, now he seemed oblivious to the people around him. With everything that had happened—the attack in the basement, the threatening notes, and the fire—his nonchalant attitude seemed odd. Shouldn't he be worried I was closing in on him?

Jonathon was talking to Wynter and Reuben about the mine reclamation and Nate had gotten up to go to the bathroom when Zac leaned toward me and whispered, “When he leaves, get his glass. I'll take it back to St. Louis tomorrow. The police can get fingerprints.”

I stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He grunted. “I work for a television station, and I help with investigations. It's obvious you're interested in this guy. Nate was trying to get a close look at him. I assume you're trying to figure out who he is?” He raised his eyebrows. “I'm right, aren't I?”

I could only open my mouth in surprise. I didn't know what to say.

“Look, you don't have to tell me who you think he is, but if you really want answers, this is the way to get them. I'll try to keep the results quiet. Unless he's a famous fugitive. Or Jimmy Hoffa. Then the police will be all over him. But I'll give you a heads-up before that happens. Will that work for you?”

I nodded, unable to find the words to thank him. This was the answer to my dilemma. As long as Zac was telling the truth, I'd finally be able to prove whether or not this man was Terrance Chase. And if the results turned out the way I suspected they would, my days of writing obituaries would be over.

Zac jabbed his index finger at me. “Just promise me you're not a hit man tracking down your next victim.”

I snorted. “You have my word. I'm not a hit man.”

“That's all I need to know. You can keep your secret. I'm not interested in exposing it—or you.”

With that, he turned his attention to Wynter. She looked at us strangely for a moment but then appeared to dismiss our brief exchange and joined back into the conversation about the mine outside of town.

“I did some research about it,” she said. “It was originally dug in the 1850s. It produced a decent amount of coal, but it was abandoned in the 1970s.”

“I remember that,” Esther said. “It was called the Gabriel Mine. When it closed, many people moved out of Sanctuary. We worried the town would die, but eventually we grew again. Not as large as we used to be but enough to support those who want to live here.”

“I can't believe that mine's been sitting there all these years,” Reuben said. “It's unsafe. Dangerous. We've had several close calls. Many of the tunnels have already collapsed. Thankfully, it will be filled this week. I'm told we won't even be able to tell a mine used to be there.”

Esther nodded. “I know Sarah and Cicely will be happy when the mine no longer exists.”

This was the second time I'd heard someone make that comment. I wanted to know what Esther meant but decided to wait until later to ask her about it.

Maxie brought our drinks and took our orders. I kept my eye on Martin. When he got up to leave, I excused myself. As he made his way to the front register, I went to his table, quickly dumped the remaining water in his glass into a bowl, touching only the bottom of the glass, and then put the glass in my purse. When I reached the bathroom, I looked back to see if anyone had noticed me, but no one appeared to be interested in my actions. After I closed the door, I removed
the glass from my purse with a paper towel, careful not to smear the fingerprints, then I slid it into one of the plastic bags I kept in my purse for leftovers. Since I'd started writing restaurant reviews for the paper, I'd begun carrying the bags since I didn't usually eat a complete dinner. Although I could ask for a carryout box from most restaurants, some of the so-called gourmet places frowned on it. On my salary, I couldn't afford to leave food behind, so the bags came in handy. I could slip leftovers into my purse without being obvious. Right now, I was really grateful for that part of my job. The bag was the perfect way to protect the prints that could confirm Martin Hatcher was actually Terrance Chase.

I left the restroom and went back to the table. On the way, I passed Sarah, Janet, and Cicely. After stopping briefly to say hello, I scooted back into my chair. Zac winked at me, acknowledging that he'd seen me collect the glass. As I sat down, Maxie came to the table with part of our food. After another trip to the kitchen, everyone had been served.

“Does anyone mind if I pray?” Jonathon asked.

“It would be appreciated,” Esther said.

We bowed our heads, and Jonathon prayed over our food, thanking God for good friends. We all said, “Amen,” and started to eat. I'd just taken a bite when Jonathon nudged me. He nodded toward a man walking past our table. This was the man we'd seen at the supper last night. Ben Johnson. He had brownish hair, mixed with gray. Although I couldn't see his eyes, I could tell by the shape of his face that he couldn't possibly be Chase. I looked at Jonathon and shook my head. He nodded his agreement. Frankly, I was pretty confident I had Chase anyway. When I got back to Esther's, I was going
to work on the story I'd give to the newspaper. As soon as Zac's police friends confirmed my suspicions, I'd hit
Send
and email my story to the editor of the
Times
. Besides scooping everyone else, I would be the reporter who helped to bring Chase to justice. I'd finally have everything I'd always wanted.

So why did I still feel so empty?