Free 3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) by Jonathan Ryan Page B

are people too, as some people seem to forget. Just like cops, I would imagine,” I growled.
    She looked at Weaver, who gave me a slight smile. “Good point,” he said. “And you haven’t talked to her since?”
    “No, I haven’t. I wanted to call her all the time, but my stupid pride got in the way. I didn’t want to be the pathetic ex, whining about how good we were together.”
    “And so you just let her go? Forgot about your love for her?” Jen stared at me in disbelief.
    I threw up my hands. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did. It’s also why I haven’t slept soundly for the past six months or stopped complaining to my friends about how lonely I am now. You can ask them if you like.”
    “So, no emails? No text messages? Nothing?” Weaver pressed.
    “No, not in the least. She didn’t even come over to my place to pick up the stuff she had left at my condo.”
    Jennifer raised her eyebrows. “You two lived together?”
    I rolled my eyes. “No, detective. If we did, you can bet your gun I would’ve been fired. But she did spend a lot of time at my place.”
    “Do you still have her stuff?”
    I ran my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I probably should give it to Ann, Amanda’s mom.”
    “You will need to give it to us,” Jennifer said.
    She looked at Lieutenant Weaver again, who nodded.
    “Pastor Schaeffer,” she continued, “do you recognize the handwriting on this sheet of paper?” She passed a photocopy over to me.
    “Yeah, it’s Amanda’s.” I took the note in my hand and forced it not to shake. I cleared my throat and read. “Aidan, he is the one. Find him at the Caves of the Dead. 614-181-0844.”
    I looked up at Jennifer. “That’s my phone number.”
    She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “This note was found on Amanda’s body. As you can see, it seems to indicate you are the murderer.”
    Smartly done, accusing me of murder without actually saying so. I guess I couldn’t blame them. But seeing as I was innocent, it didn’t worry me.
    “You’re kidding me, right?”
    “No, I am quite serious. In fact, we have thought about arresting you.” Jennifer reached for something behind her back. I could only assume it was handcuffs.
    I had no idea whether she was bluffing. I didn’t watch many police shows, so I didn’t know if she could just arrest me because she felt like it. I looked at the note again. “You might want to wait before you put me in handcuffs.”
    For the first time, she looked puzzled. “Yeah, why?” she said, arching an eyebrow.
    “Because of the comma.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    I held up the piece of paper. “Here. Notice what it says. It says, ‘Aidan,’ comma, meaning, this message is addressed to me, it seems. Or she wanted it to get to me.”
    “Why would a comma make a difference?”
    I let out a little snort. “Because Amanda is … was … an English teacher who was anal about grammar. If she had wanted to tell you that I was the killer, she would have been more precise.”
    Jennifer frowned. “People forget themselves when they are about to die.”
    Every horror movie, serial killer, and dissecting video I had seen began to show in my mind. Every dead body had Amanda’s face on it. Bodies with arms missing, stab wounds, blank, staring eyes.
    “Pastor Schaeffer?”
    “I’m sorry; I’m just having a hard time with this. I really loved her, you know.” I took a drink of my water to wash down the lump in my throat. “And as for the comma, you don’t know Amanda.”
    “Enlighten me.”
    I paused with a little smile on my face as the tears began to run down my cheek. I wiped them with the back of my hand. “When I first met her, I preached on a Sunday when our pastor was gone. Amanda had decided to come to our church to visit. She walked up to me after the service and told me my sermon was great, but the grammar was terrible.”
    “And then what, you asked her out to lunch?” Jennifer rolled her eyes.
    I smiled.