Thirty-Two and a Half Complications
Page 60

I froze in shock. My secrets were out in the open, and the president of the Busybody Club knew all of them. “Miss Mildred… I….”
She advanced toward me. “How can your heathen soul stand to be in the sanctuary of our Lord?”
I swallowed and lifted my chin, fighting a new wave of nausea as I listened to Neely Kate start another round of vomiting not six feet away from me. “Jesus welcomed the sinners into his fold, Miss Mildred. And so does Jonah.”
“That boy’s a fool.”
“Jesus?” Neely Kate called out from behind the closed door.
“Of course not Jesus! Blasphemy!” Miss Mildred shuddered, then recovered enough to continue, “Reverend Jonah. Lettin’ all them heathens in the door.” She leaned forward, squinting her eyes. “Tattooed ladies and men with earrings. Have you ever seen such a sight?”
“Jesus ate with the tax collectors, Miss Mildred.”
“Well, then Reverend Jonah can go out to lunch with Dennis Pontel at the Golden Corral buffet. Dennis works for the IRS.”
“He works for H&R Block,” Neely Kate called out.
“Same thing.” Miss Mildred waved her hand in annoyance. “The point is that this is a place for holy people, Rose Anne Gardner. You don’t belong here.”
My anger rose up. I was tired of this woman belittling me at every step. “Last I checked, Miss Mildred,” I took a step forward, feeling bolder, “we’re in a restroom, which is where crap belongs.” I lifted an eyebrow and gave her a snotty look. “I guess that explains why you’re here spoutin’ off.” Then I stomped out of the bathroom, leaving Miss Mildred frozen in shock by the sinks and poor Neely Kate still barfing.
I took a second to steady myself, which is when I saw Samantha Jo and her tattooed date talking to a couple of guys who looked like they belonged to the church’s Onward and Upward support group. The majority of the group’s members worked—or had worked—at Weston’s Garage. When Jonah started his church, one of the first things he did was found a support group for men in need of rehabilitation, which included a number of members who had worked for Daniel Crocker. I glanced back at the bathroom door. I would have preferred to wait for Neely Kate before talking to Samantha Jo, but she was doing the telltale tug on her boyfriend’s arm.
That settled it.
I made my way through the crowded foyer, approaching her and the group of four men. When I was less than three feet away, I felt my peripheral sight fading as a vision descended.
I was in a dark room, lit only by the pale light beaming in through a curtainless paned window. One of the panes had a diagonal crack in it, shaped like an upside-down Y.
“You didn’t have to kill him,” a man grunted as he came into my view, the red glow of the tip of his cigarette lighting up his face. His face was covered in heavy stubble and his cheeks hollowed in as he took a long drag. “You said no one would get hurt.”
“He wanted out and he never would have kept quiet. It was too risky,” said a guy in the shadows. I couldn’t make out any defining features, but I recognized his voice. “Have you picked out where we’re going next?”
“It ain’t that easy, Mick. That nine thousand in the cash bag helps, but we need another ten K. This is Henryetta. Where in Sam Hill are we gonna find that much money?”
Mick laughed, but the sound came out garbled. “I know just the place.”
The church foyer came back into view and I blurted out. “You’re gonna rob another place.”
The heads of all four men turned toward me, their eyes burning with hostility.
Oh, crappy doodles.
Even though I’d recognized Mick’s voice, none of the men’s faces matched the guy with the cigarette or the Batman robber whose face I’d seen in my previous vision. I realized in that split second that the person I’d been in the vision had never said a word or given me any other clue of his or her identity. It could have been any of the four men or even Samantha Jo. That meant there were at least four of them, five if I included Mr. Sullivan.
One of the men in the group stomped over to me, clearly angry. “What did you just say?”
I put the back of my hand to my forehead and took a step back. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember what I said. I’m not feeling well, and I’ve been blurting out odd things right and left. Must be delirious.”
I took another step back. He took one forward.
Fear cramped my already delicate stomach, but the rational part of my brain screamed that we were in church. What could happen?
The contorted face of the man in front of me made me reconsider that question.
“Hello, gentleman,” Joe said from behind me, moving to my side and putting a hand on the small of my back. “I’m not sure I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you.” He extended his right hand, keeping his left at my back. “I’m the new chief deputy sheriff. Joe Simmons.” A bright smile lifted his mouth, but his eyes were hard.
His hand hung in the air for a long moment before the man finally gave it a short shake and then dropped it like it was covered with maggots. “Welcome to town, Sheriff.”
Joe gave him a cocky grin. “Oh, I’m not the sheriff.” Then he winked and cast me a quick glance. “But you just never know what the future may hold.”
I wanted to shake him off, but I couldn’t deny Joe had intervened in something that was about to get ugly. To try banishing him now would be foolish.