Adam's Witness by J C Paulson

Author:J C Paulson [Paulson, J C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780995975613
Publisher: Joanne Paulson
Published: 2017-06-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

SaskTel, the province’s main telecommunications company and a Crown corporation, came through. In Adam’s experience, they were pretty great at responding to police requests.

In his email Monday morning, Adam found a list of about twenty calls that had come to the church office the weekend the bishop was killed. Well, that’s not too bad, he thought. At least it wasn’t hundreds, like it sometimes was. I’ll get James on this later today.

Meanwhile, he was preparing to hit up the court for an arrest warrant. The Crown prosecutor had set up a date for ten o’clock before Judge Mary Sutherland, and Adam was trying to work out whether she’d bite. She was a good judge, very balanced, but you never knew if she was going to side with your warrant or with the suspect’s rights. They only wanted to talk to Fairbrother; there was no evidence against him at all. Indeed, thought Adam, why the hell would Fairbrother want to hurt his bishop? It didn’t make any sense.

But they needed answers, and for those, they needed him. Was he dodging them? It sure seemed that he was, based on James’ experience at his house; but he had come in for an interview, willingly. Maybe he was sick or something.

He picked up his black leather bag with all of his information in it, pulled on his warm police parka, checked his face in the little mirror to make sure he was cleanly shaven and tidy — he always had an extra razor in his desk — and went out to meet the Crown prosecutor, stopping at James’ desk on the way.

“Hey, James. I’m just heading to court with Sanj. Can I dump these numbers on you? SaskTel coughed up the list this morning,” said Adam, dropping off a printout.

“Sure. I’m almost excited. We could use a break here,” said James. “Good luck with the judge.”

“Thanks. I think we’re going to need it.”

James wrapped up the report he was working on — it was the arson case that came up the same day the bishop was killed — and sent a copy of it to Adam by email. Then he grabbed the printout of the numbers that had called the church office the previous Sunday.

Five seconds later, James froze. Ten numbers down the list, staring him in the face, was his own home number. The landline number he shared with Bruce Stephens, the love of his life.

Sweat suddenly pouring down his face, his mind whirling out of control, James wheeled around in his chair and vomited into the wastebasket.

*******

Charlotte heard the upheaval from the other side of the room.

“Oh honey,” she said, hurrying over. “What’s up? Do you have the stomach flu? Maybe you should go home.”

James lifted his head and gasped out a “sorry.” Pale, sweating and shaking, he did look like a victim of the worst possible stomach virus.

“I’m okay . . . I think. Yeah, maybe I should take a couple of hours and see how I feel,” he said, wiping his face.

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