Free An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) by W.H. Clark

course not.” The smile still illuminated her face and Ward wondered if she
knew what had happened to him, but he knew that of course she did. At least she
knew he was dead.
    “What can
you tell me about him? Did you know him well?”
    “I knew
him very well,” said Alice. “Very well. As well as anybody might know him I
would say. But not as good as God knew him. I see the man but God sees the
heart. What I can tell you, though, is the William I knew was a good man. A
good man.”
    Again
Ward allowed space for Alice to continue and she filled that space, the smile
never leaving her face.
    “I first
met William at my church. One day he appeared. I can tell you which day because
it was the Sunday of his grandson going missing.”
    Newton
looked up now and Alice brought him into the conversation with a slight, almost
indiscernible nod of her head. Newton seemed to freeze in that gaze.
    “Go on,” Ward
said, encouragement that wasn’t necessary. He took out his notepad and began to
write as she spoke.
    “He hung
around at the back and he kind of stood out. Took him for a hobo at first. And
he was white. Not to say we don’t have white folk at the church but not so
many. When the service ended he stood aside to let people out but he stayed
there. Never took his eyes off of Christ. I did the flowers back then and I was
tending them when he walks up to the front and, as a good Christian, I ain’t
normally quick to judge but I confess on that occasion I thought he had an eye
for the altar. We got a fair weight of gold and silver on there. But he just
walked up and stood there staring up at Christ on the cross. I carried on with
my business and kept a half eye on him, strange looking and sad as he was. Yes,
he looked as sad as anybody I ever saw. I like to leave people be when they
like that, communicating with the Lord. I’m not sure he knew it back then but
he was doing that all right. God’s always listening even when you not saying
nothing. And William wasn’t saying nothing. And then suddenly he spins around
as if he’s come out of a trance and he looked startled and he got me startled.
I think he saw that and he just says to me, ‘I wanted to get closer.’”
    “Closer?”
    “Closer
to God. He told me later that he picked the Westmoreland Gospel Church because
he thought we got closer to God with our ‘dancing, singing and whooping
hallelujahs’ as he put it. Closer than the other denominations. And he was keen
as corn dogs   to
get up close and personal with the Lord at that time.”
    “So would
you say he was a deeply religious man?”
    “No, Mr.
Ward. I wouldn’t say that. For sure he would be there every Sunday and some
Saturdays too, and he started to help out with odd jobs around the place, but
he wouldn’t be described as deeply religious. Never saw him sing nor pray. Not
outwards anyway. Some, they sing inwards and I think maybe William was one of
those. He once told me he didn’t pray because he was scared to hear silence
coming back. He just wanted to know God was there. To trust he was there. He
had faith because he needed faith. I think that’s it. I think he needed it
because of little Ryan. Not a day passed for that first year that he wasn’t out
looking for Ryan.” Her voice was as sweet as her cookies and Ward helped
himself to another, rapt in her story.
    She stood
then and walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. She took out a
photograph and handed it to Ward.
    “Here’s a
picture from a couple years ago at one of our events. He always smiled for the
camera, though his teeth weren’t perfect.” She laughed.
    Newton
lowered his head and Alice paused to look over at him.
    “Mr.
Newton. I feel what you thinking but I tell it as it is, as facts I know.
William wanted to get closer to God. And you thinking that was because he took
the life of his Ryan. I knew William as a kind man, not the sort of man that
would do such a thing, but it don’t matter what I think. You