Page 69 of Entombed In Sin

I hold his cold gaze as I shove my hands into the front pocket of Thatcher’s sweatshirt. It smells like my stepbrother. The subtle sweetness mixed with hints of leather and sandalwood anchors me to the present. “I don’t know what time it is, but I’m exhausted, so can we please get to the reason for your late-night visit?”

Sheriff Heins glares at me but caves with a sigh. “Pastor Michaels was found dead in his home tonight.”

His words hang between us for a second, but I can’t quite grasp the meaning of them. I try to wrap my head around the conflicting emotions that bubble up in the middle of my chest.Pastor Michaels was my friend for so long. He was there for me during some of my mother’s worst episodes, and when he couldn’t be there for me, I at least knew I had someone out there who understood what I was going through. Who I thought cared about me. If his son hadn’t been so terrible, I probably would’ve spent more time around him—even if that meant going to church.

Then again, this was the same man who covered up his son’s crimes against me and who begged me to keep up the charade that Trevor had been some amazing person. He wanted to discredit me. Make me a liar in front of the whole town.

My mouth opens and closes as I try to process the news. Satisfaction takes root and pushes out any lingering fondness I’d held onto for the old man. Licking my dry lips, I managed to ask, “What happened?”

“It was suicide,” Officer Burns answers, his voice gruff. “He called Sheriff Heins and left a message letting him know he needed to atone for his sins.”

“I found him about forty-five minutes ago.”

I glance at Sebastian’s father. “Wow, I didn’t think he would ever do something like that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he says, his eyes narrowing on my face. “Which is why we wanted to come talk to you.”

My brows furrow as I stare at the police officers in confusion. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Did you send your two new friends, sorrystepbrothers, here to harass the pastor enough to drive him into taking his own life?” Sheriff Heins demands.

I blink rapidly, trying to dispel the shock that whips through me. “I’m sorry,what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Trix,” Officer Burns replies coolly. “Your absence was noticed today at Trevor’s funeral, and there were several witnesses that put two out of the three guys living underthisroof in the parking lot of the church, after the service, where they were seen arguing with Pastor Michaels. Given what youwantedpeople to believe around here and how the pastor refused to lower himself enough to acknowledge the baseless accusations against his son, maybe you wanted to send your new friends over to shake him up a bit.”

Again, I can’t quite wrap my head around what is happening or what I’m being accused of. They have to be insane. This is insanity. An incredulously sharp laugh slips past my lips before I can stop it.

“I didn’t go to the funeral because I was busy,” I tell them once I’ve gathered my thoughts. “But even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have gone. My respect for that man is as dead as he is now.” Both officers recoil at the heat in my voice. Ignoring their reactions, I press on, “The only reason Thatcher and Sagan went to the service was to keep the relationship open between Bright Starr and the church. I didn’t send them. And if there were words traded between the three of them, harsh enough to lead the pastor to kill himself, then maybe Pastor Michaels was a weak man.”

“With how kind Pastor Michaels was to not bring your name up during the service, I would think you would want to be a bit more gracious toward him,” Sheriff Heins points out coldly.

I shrug but refuse to rise to the bait. These men in front of me are no better than Pastor Michaels or my stepfather, Patrick. There’s no need to elaborate or explain myself. They don’t care about me or the truth or any type of justice.

“If that’s it, officers, I kindly ask that you’ll leave now,” Thatcher says from behind me.

Both men look over my head at him. I can see the suspicion in their eyes and the way tension gathers in their bodies, causing both middle-aged men to stiffen.

Officer Burns looks back down at me. “Actually, there is one thing. Pastor Michaels left this on the dining room table.”

He reaches back and pulls an envelope out. He hands it to me. There, on the front of it, is my name. I feel nothing at the sight of it. Not caring about privacy, I immediately rip it open and pull a folded piece of paper out. The envelope falls to the ground while I unfold the note and read it.

Beatrix, as I stared out into the sea of faces today and allowed the people of Chasm to believe the worst of you, I began to realize what I was doing was wrong. That what I did was wrong. Then I spoke to your brothers and realized that, while I thought I had your best interests at heart, it’s nothing compared to how they feel about you. I hope your brothers will always be there to look after you. Please forgive me.

-E. Michaels

My eyes linger on the note for a moment longer after I’m done reading it. Time ticks by as I wonder what Pastor Michaels saw when he looked at the Hunt twins and what was said. It doesn’t matter, really, but having someone else see that I’m no longer facing the world alone… I feel validated in giving my heart and trust to the Hunt twins.

One of the cops clears his throat. I give them my attention, though that’s waning swiftly. I’m ready to head back to bed.

“We’ll bring Pastor Michaels’s body here since we already have?—”

“No,” Thatcher cuts Officer Burns off sharply. “Take his body somewhere else. You come here accusing us of forcing this man to take his life and then expect us to care for his body? Absolutely not.”

Both officers look from him to me.

“Thatcher and Sagan own Bright Starr now,” I explain indifferently with a single shoulder shrug. “The decision is up to them, and it sounds like it’s been made.”

Thatcher’s hand wraps around my bicep then, and he pulls me back to him.

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