Page 127 of Forever Dark
“For a while, yeah.”
“How’d that happen?”
Pruitt rubbed one thumb over the knuckles of the opposite hand.“I played in church bands before.Somebody heard me in Springfield and told Preacher Croft about me.He needed help.I needed work.”
“Needed God, too?”
A faint smile tugged one corner of Pruitt’s mouth and vanished.“Don’t we all?”
Nolan looked ill at ease.Connor felt in his gut that he was nervous.“No need to feel uncomfortable, Nolan.”
“With what?”
“With me asking questions.”
Pruitt looked toward the keyboard rather than at Connor.“I don’t really have a choice.”
“It’s just a casual chat,” Connor said.“You’re not under arrest or anything like that.Please, sit.”
Pruit sat on the edge of the untouched bed because standing seemed to make him more nervous.Connor remained on his feet, one shoulder angled toward the door.Years of interviews had taught him something simple.Sit when you want to make a person feel equal.Stand when you want them to remember they are not.
“You know about the three women who attended Croft’s revival and ended up dead?”Connor asked.
Pruitt swallowed.“I heard, yes.Terrible.”
“So people keep reminding me.”
Connor let things go silent for a moment.Another little technique to make someone squirm.
Pruitt’s fingers moved restlessly over his knee.“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“What you know about the dead women would be a start.”
Connor watched the movement in the man’s hands.Nervous hands.Musician’s hands.Long fingers.Quick and fidgeting.Could hands like that tie someone down?Paint Latin on a wall?Close around a throat?Of course they could.Hands did not confess character.
“Each of the victims visited the revival.You remember Brenda Colter?”Connor asked.
“No.”
“Lauren Gimble?”
“No.”
“Tara Brennan?”
A pause came before the answer.Not long.Long enough.
“Maybe by face.She was well known for her charity work.”
“Maybe?”
“She came to some services.”
“You speak to her?”
“No.”
“Did you see anybody else speaking to her?”
