Part 36 (1/2)
”What kind of trouble?”
”I can't go into that.”
”Justin Cantwell.” I wrote it down. ”Any idea where he was from? Any background?”
He sighed. ”I need to talk to some people before I can give out any more information. Will you be around tomorrow?”
This was a major frustration and I didn't try to hide it. ”I have to fly back tonight. It's one of those round-trip discount things.”
”Well, leave us a number and we'll call you.”
Now where had I heard that line before? ”What about Pastor Harris? Does he know anything about Cantwell?”
”I'll have to ask him.”
”Let's ask him now.”
”He's unavailable right now.”
”Is he here on the premises?”
”He's unavailable.”
I tried to control the emotion in my voice. ”He's always unavailable. What about Norm Corrigan?”
Miles Newberry shrugged. ”He wouldn't know anything about this.”
”He's new on staff?”
”That's right.”
”But Mrs. Fontinelli's run into this guy. The photograph really upset her.”
He nodded. ”She was here then.”
”So it makes sense that Pastor Harris knew him.”
He got tense. ”Are you digging for something?”
”Only because it's buried. Please don't take offense, but I have a very dangerous man deceiving my town according to an agenda, my friends and I spent a good deal of money getting me down here, and when you stonewall on behalf of Pastor Harris, I get uncomfortable. If you know about Cantwell and Mrs. Fontinelli knows about Cantwell, it's inconceivable that this hasn't somehow touched Pastor Harris. I'd like to talk with him.”
His eyes narrowed. ”Before we go any further, I need to warn you about something.”
I was listening.
”This church has been appointed by G.o.d as a light in this city. It has his blessing and his mandate to spread the gospel and make disciples.” He indicated my valise. ”If you try to cause this church any harm with this information, you'll be opposing G.o.d, and that's never advisable.”
I stopped. Twenty years ago, his warning would have scared me. Today, I felt vindicated. ”Reverend Newberry, when I attended this church, I always sensed that kind of att.i.tude trickling down from the leaders.h.i.+p. I never thought I'd hear anyone verbalize it.” He gave me a curious look. He was about to ask me, so I told him, ”Yeah, my wife and I attended this church about twenty years ago.
I don't expect you to remember me because you never knew me in the first place, and it's obvious you don't know me now, or you wouldn't have said what you just said to me. But I thank you for your candor, and I'm sure I can count on your help.”
I leaned toward him, eye to eye. He was going to regret not sitting behind his desk. ”I need to hear from anyone who has had direct dealings with Justin Cantwell, and if that includes Pastor Harris, I need to hear from him, not you on behalf of him. No more running interference, okay? No more putting me off. The devil's at work in Antioch and we don't have time for that.”
He returned my gaze for a moment, and then nodded as if in agreement. ”Leave me your number.”
BRANDON NICHOLS chuckled and lovingly petted Matt Kiley on his bowed head. ”Get up, Matt. No need to grovel.”
Matt Kiley was on his knees in the straw before the Messiah of Antioch, ready to plead, bargain, cajole, do anything to get his strength back. The moment the Boss touched him, he felt it coursing through him. His arms, his back, his legs were strong again, maybe even stronger. He leaped quickly to his feet, flexing and stretching.
”All there again?” the Boss asked, holding Matt at arm's length and inspecting him.
Matt was about to answer, but his throat choked with emotion. He nodded instead. They were standing in the barn at the Macon ranch. The Boss was supervising as two new followers unloaded a truckload of oats, stacking the sacks on a pallet.
The Boss nodded toward the feed sacks. ”Let's try those arms out.”
Matt put up his dukes and gave the sacks a few solid punches. His legs felt like powerful springs under him. He danced, bobbed, weaved like a boxer. WHAM! WHAM! He pounded dents in the sacks. It felt great.
”Yeah!” he hollered, then threw his arms around the Boss. He'd never been a hugger before this.
The Boss was pleased. ”All right, then. You have your strength. But remember, Matt: Your strength comes from me. It's mine, for my use. No more wasting it in foolish brawling!”
”Okay. You got it. Oh!” He remembered something, and reached into his pocket. ”The other merchants asked me to give you these gift cards. You can use them to get discounts on lodging, meals, just about anything in town. Pa.s.s them out to the pilgrims.
It's our way of saying thanks.”
”Tell them thanks for me.”
”My Lord!” called Michael the Prophet, hurrying into the barn.
”Armond Harrison is here!”
Nichols's eyes brightened as he turned to see Armond Harrison and a lovely young lady walking in with Michael. ”h.e.l.lo and welcome!”
Harrison shook hands with Antioch's Messiah, then introduced the young lady. ”This is Gail, the one we talked about.” The Messiah was delighted. Gail was in awe. Harrison told her, ”He'll take good care of you, and trust me: You'll be a different woman when you leave here.”
”Michael, take her to her room in the guest house. I'll be along shortly.”
Michael gave a little bow and then led Gail along with a touch of his hand.
”Her husband's gone,” Armond explained. ”In the navy. She's had some real problems with that.”
Nichols gave a wise and understanding nod. ”She needs comfort. Fulfillment.” He smiled. ”Don't worry.”
Armond smiled. ”I won't.”
”Cindy, the young woman I spoke to you about, is a gentle sort and reasonably well-adjusted. But I've told her she could benefit from the communal environment you have with your group-and, of course, your wisdom regarding . . .”