A Southern Noir: Deception by Any Other Name

Chapter 15

I went to church Sunday morning with my encounter with Danny still on my mind. During Sunday School, I couldn't shake the feeling that Danny might be telling the truth. As hard to believe as it was, Danny could be the victim.

While listening to the lesson, it also struck me how alone I felt. Emilie was still in Orange Beach, and the kids were with their grandparents. Rusty was my only companion but it's not like I could bring him to church.

One good thing about last week, I learned through my confrontation with Clayton Friday that he was leaving for Huntsville tomorrow. I still don't like the guy, but at least he's not trying to sleep with my wife. Emilie is right, I need to stop obsessing over Clayton. It's hard to be objective when it's your family, and not someone else's family.

I started thinking seriously about the insurance company's offer. Chasing down cheating husbands can be exciting and all, but I don't get any joy out of it. When you're right you find a spouse who's been unfaithful and a marriage in flames. I know I'm not the cause of it, but I still feel partly responsible. Once I get to the bottom of the the Patterson case, I'm done with the husband chasing.

With that thought in mind, I left after Sunday School and drove to the Freeman's residence. I didn't ask Danny if they were churchgoers, so the Freemans may not be home, but it's not like I had anything else to do if I had to wait for them to return.

When I got there, I could see their cars in the driveway. Parking my car on the street, I got out and walked to the door, not knowing what kind of reception to expect. How was I supposed to approach the situation? Do I ask, "Hi, Mrs. Freeman, do you mind if I ask you if you're having an affair with Danny Patterson?" Probably not the best approach.

I rang the doorbell and stood by the door, waiting for someone to answer. A minute or two passed, so I rang again. Still no answer. Looking around, I didn't see anyone, so I went to the driveway and felt the hood of the cars. Except for the metal warmed by the daytime sun, there was no engine heat. Either they were inside and didn't want to answer, or they'd gone somewhere with someone else. Curiosity began to get the better of me, so I went to the fence that led to the backyard.

I rattled the fence a little but saw no sign of a dog. The gate was not locked, so I slowly opened it before entering the backyard. Try as I might, I couldn't remember if the Freemans had a dog. It would probably be after me by now if they did, but no animal attacked me.

On the back of the house was a large sliding glass door. Peeking inside was useless because of the large curtain covering the window. I continued around and found a back door with glass panes. Without thinking, I started to grab the doorknob but then suddenly stopped when I saw that the pane by the knob was broken. A nervous feeling came over me, and my heartbeat accelerated. Untucking my shirt, I put my hand on the inside and turned the knob. It moved easily and the door swung open. Looking down I did not see any glass shards lying on the floor. Maybe the pane was knocked out and the Freeman's had yet to replace it.

Sticking my head inside the kitchen, I could see the closed front door from the kitchen. I called out, "Mr. and Mrs Freeman?" No response. Now alarm bells were beginning to sound in the back of my mind. Then I heard the distinctive sound of footsteps. "Mr. Freeman?"

The sound of gunfire erupted, perforating the wall next to my head. Instinctively, I ducked behind the wall by the door, expecting more shots. Seconds passed, but no more shots rang out. Taking a deep breath, I ducked down and entered the home. I took cover behind the island, but there was no need. I could see that the front door was now open, so apparently, whoever was inside fled.

I rushed in the direction the shots came from, already sure what I would find. At the end of the hall, I spotted an open bedroom door and a lady's shoe just visible from the opening. I was so fixated on the shoe that I nearly missed the body of Greg Freeman sitting in a recliner in the living room. His eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. Blood flowed from two bullet wounds in his chest.