Noah stirred my coffee, a smile registering. “You and me both,” he replied, while I took an inventory of the room.
The space was bare save for the chairs and the table set out for the drinks and cookies, sterile given the white walls and ceiling, linoleum floors marked with tiny splashes of dark gray and black. The metal chairs appeared as though they were struggling to hold the weight of decades of support group meetings and the heaviness of the topics that circulated the room. I couldn’t imagine the confessions made, the pictures painted, within these four walls. I might have dealt with sexual predators in my line of work, but I came at the issue from an entirely different angle than Noah did.
I prosecuted sexual criminals.
Noah counseled them, seeking to simultaneously understand and support them.
He was far tougher than I gave him credit for, I accepted as I crossed the room where a dozen pedophiles had been seated minutes ago. Noah stood at the helm, bearing witness to the stories and confessions, remaining impartial, and finally, he sent them back out into the world with nothing more than tools.
“A tiny suggestion for you,” Noah said, handing me the coffee. “Next time you consider lingering outside one of these meetings, make sure you’re not drenched from a rainstorm.” He examined me, trying not to smile.
“Are you saying you could actually hear me dripping out in the hallway?” I took a sip of the coffee. It tasted as thin as it looked, but it was hot and sweet from the sugar. “You have spidey senses I don’t know about?”
He tapped his ear before moving to the circle of chairs. “I’m perceptive. You have to be in my position.”
“I don’t think these are the types of guys you have to worry about sneaking up on you in the middle of the night.” After forcing down the rest of the coffee, I abandoned the cup on the table and went to help him fold the chairs.
“Maybe not these ones,” Noah replied, “but we’re all prey to some type of predator. Even the strongest of us.”
“Happy thought,” I scoffed, struggling to get my chair into a folded position. Noah tapped one of the legs with his foot, and the chair collapsed instantly. “That was a good speech. About all of us having darkness inside,” I added when he glanced at me. “Though I’d argue that the urge to have sex with children is more nefarious than your average soccer mom succumbing to her darkness by gambling away fifty dollars every Friday night.”
“What purpose would that serve? To differentiate their demons from ours?” His shoulders moved beneath his thin sweater. “They already feel ostracized from society, and the further we drive them, the more likely they are to offend.”
Instead of arguing, I wrestled with the next chair, managing to get this one to cooperate without his help.
“So what did they say?” I asked the real reason for my visit. “Anything helpful about the type of guy we’re looking for?”
“Nothing you don’t have already.” Noah stacked the chairs against the wall. “They agree it’s probably someone who blends in with them. Somebody who wouldn’t stand out while he’s taking the time to gather intel on these guys before killing them.” He took the chairs from me to stack.
“Could he actually be one of them?” I asked, my mind scattering with a possibility I’d never considered.
“A pedophile?” Noah considered that for a moment. “I suppose you can’t rule it out. He could be acting from a moral high ground if he’s chosen to forgo his urges, while grappling with feelings of envy that these men have experienced what he has not. If it is one of them, he’d have a two-fold motive.”
“Envy?” I repeated, the word sour in my mouth. “I think most of us would argue that if he hasn’t experienced what most pedophiles have, it’s a very good thing.”
“Of course it is to you and me and the rest of society, but to men like this”— Noah hung his arm over the stacked chairs, staring at the floor—“he’d be both sickened and jealous if our killer is a pedophile, albeit a celibate, non-offending one.”
“If this is a non-offending pedophile, he won’t have a record, right? It’s not like a celibate pedophile is required to register with the police department.” When I leaned into the wall, my mind clouded with possibility. Could this person really be another pedophile? “If that’s the case, we’re back to the drawing board of pretty much considering every able-bodied male in his twenties or thirties a suspect. Anything else to possibly narrow the search?”
Noah unplugged the coffee carafe, then milled through the room, switching off lights. “Most of them didn’t want to say much when I brought it up at the start of our meeting. I made sure they knew that this was information I would share with the authorities”—his hand gestured my direction—“to assist with their search for the killer. They’re all pretty terrified they could be next on the list.”
“Then assure them as long as they don’t offend and get off in court for their crime, they shouldn’t have to worry about making the Huntsman’s short list.”
Noah gave me a look. “There’s not much anyone can say that will make them feel better. A serial killer is targeting pedophiles. How would you feel if you fit into that category with this madman running around?”
“I’d feel like staying on the good side of the law,” I replied as he stood beside me in the dark room, shadows playing with his face.
He moved with me when I walked out of the room, sealing the doors behind us. Our footsteps echoed as we climbed the stairs.
“If there’s anything else they come up with, you’ll let me know?”
“That depends.”
When my head turned, I found his eyes shining with amusement, matching his tone.
“Depends on what?” I asked, stopping him by putting my hand on his chest when we made it to the main floor.
“What do I get in exchange for this valuable information I’m drumming up for you?”
My head angled at him. “So far the information you’ve gathered hasn’t reached the valuable scale. Valuable is actually narrowing the suspect pool.” When he opened his mouth to respond, I interjected, suspecting his argument. “And before you say it, you and I both know no one’s going to admit to being attracted to kids if we start randomly knocking on doors, searching for this closet pedophile mass murderer.”
Noah fought with the smile trying to form. “That’s quite a title.”
“Come on, Noah, what do you want?” I asked, checking the time on my phone. “I’m used to a little quid pro quo when I’m dealing with other agencies, but I didn’t see it coming from my own husband.”
He scanned the darkness, reaching for my hand as he did. “Come with me.”
The custodian emerged from a room by the entryway, a ring of keys clutched in his hand. “Dr. Wolff, any idea how much longer you’ll be? I was about to lock up for the night.”
“I’ll lock up tonight. Go ahead and take off, Jimmy,” Noah called with a wave.
“Look at you, all respectable with your keys to the church,” I teased after the heavy doors closed behind the custodian.
“I can’t help it that when people look at me, they see a respectable, trustworthy guy.” He shoved through the door leading into the sanctuary, bringing me with him.