Jamie Garrett - Riley Reid 02 - Fire and Lies by Jamie Garrett Page A

there? All signs pointed towards his guilt.

    There was a part of me that wanted the pastor to be innocent. I wanted him to have some plausible explanation as to why he was at Twelve Pine Lane. I wanted to hear a reasonable explanation why he tried to shoot me. But the feeling in my gut told me that he was as guilty as sin.

    Sam chose to make Pastor Pritchard wait. He was trying to make him nervous. And through the one-way glass I could see that my friend the detective’s tactics were working. Pritchard’s usually calm demeanor was shaken. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes looked defeated. Most telling was his inability to stop his legs from shaking under the table.

    The door to the room Officer Rodriguez and I were in opened. It was Sam. He looked like he was ready. Both of his sleeves were rolled up and he had a manila folder in his hand.

    “Everything all set?” asked Sam.

    “Yup, everything’s good, Detective,” replied Officer Rodriguez.

    “Great. I’m not leaving that room until I’ve broken him. This craziness ends here, today.” Sam started to leave.

    “Good luck,” I said.

    Sam smiled and winked at me. “I’m too good to need luck.”

    After leaving our little room, Sam went out into the hallway and then into the interrogation room. Pastor Pritchard’s head shot up when he heard the door open. The detective sat down in the chair across from the pastor. Playing more mental games, Sam didn’t say anything for almost five minutes. He just opened the manila folder and went over its contents.

    “What’s he doing?” asked Officer Rodriguez. “Why isn’t he saying anything?”

    “He’s making him think about it,” I explained. “Letting him stew.”

    Sam cleared his throat. Then he began speaking. “You are Thomas Pritchard, correct?”

    “What?” asked Pastor Pritchard. The pastor knew Sam knew who he was, I could tell Sam’s question confused him.

    “Your name, it’s Thomas Pritchard yes?” Sam didn’t look up from the manila folder.

    “Yes.”

    “And you were born May 23, 1964?”

    “Yes.”

    “You are, or were, the pastor at Sister Mary’s Church?”

    “Yes.”

    Sam looked up from his folder. “How do you know Robert and Destiny Branch?”

    “I didn’t.”

    “You didn’t? I find it interesting that you used the past tense. Why not say that you don’t?”

    Pastor Pritchard shrugged. I could tell nerves were starting to get to him. His attempt to look unworried instead came off awkward and forced. “I don’t know Sam. It’s what came to mind.”

    “You are a suspected criminal, Pastor. While in this police station you will refer to me as Detective Greyson. Is that understood?” Sam wanted to make it clear that he was in charge. There would be no casual familiarity between them.

    “Yes, sorry, of course.” Pastor Pritchard looked down at the table.

    “How do you know Robert and Destiny Branch?”

    “I don’t.”

    “Then what were you doing in their backyard?”

    “I was lost.”

    Sam smiled. “You were lost? You were in their backyard because you were lost? That’s… that’s rich. So you were lost. Where did you think you were?”

    Pastor Pritchard didn’t answer.

    “Look, Pastor, we’re going to go over that whole house looking for fingerprints, hair or anything else we can use to identify who was inside. And we both know I’m going to find some traces of you in there. So you might as well just tell me why you were there.” Sam was clever. Most people wouldn’t have noticed what he did. Up to that point he was only referring to Pastor Pritchard formally. Then he changed to calling him “pastor”. It was meant to loosen him up. He wanted take a chunk out of Pritchard’s guard.

    “I knew Robert. He used to be one of my parishioners.” Even from a room away with a half-an-inch of glass between us, I could see that Pastor Pritchard was holding something back.

    “And… ?”

    “He was having a crisis.”

    “What