Missing Hearts

by Wright, Kenya

  “I fell.”

  “I see that.” He patted my hair down and smiled. “Your food is here. I bought you some wings, macaroni and cheese, and cabbage. I know you used to go back for seconds for your mother’s cabbage. I bet you're happy now.”

  I forced myself to smile. “Thank you so much, Pastor.”

  “You’re welcome.” He put the other chair in front of me, picked up the food, and opened the tray. “What do you want to eat first?”

  I looked at his hand as he held a fork. “You’re going to feed me?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Troublemaker. We can’t let your hands free.”

  “I won’t do anything. I swear to—”

  “Don’t you do that.”

  “I mean. . .I promise. Trust me. On my father’s grave.”

  “Don’t go bothering your father’s soul.” He forked some of the cabbage and brought it to my mouth. “Open up.”

  Goddamn it.

  I opened and took the cabbage. I was so damn hungry. I had to admit it was good, but I had no idea how much time had passed. I also never ate breakfast or lunch today. Instead, I spent my time naked in bed with Alexander.

  At the thought of his name, my chest ached.

  No. You can’t think of Alexander right now.

  Pastor Miller forked some of the macaroni and fed me that.

  “Thank you.” I took it, knowing I would need my strength eventually.

  “I don’t want you to be scared.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? You’re going to kill me.”

  “I’m sending you to God.”

  “That’s still death.”

  “The worst thing one can face is spiritual death, not mere physical death. ” He gave me more cabbage. “As Jesus said, ‘Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.’”

  Easy for you to say when you’re the one doing the killing.

  Once I finished the macaroni and cheese, he put the fork down, picked up a wing, and put it close to my mouth. “Come on. These wings are good.”

  I leaned forward and took a bite.

  He dabbed my mouth with a paper napkin. “You’re lucky to meet God so soon.”

  I swallowed down the meat. “And what if I would like to meet God a little bit later?”

  He frowned. “Why wait, child?”

  “If you want to meet him now, why don’t I kill you?”

  “Because my work isn’t done on this Earth. He won’t let me die.”

  “Let’s see.”

  Pastor Miller’s frown deepened as he brought the wing back to my mouth.

  I shook my head. “No, thank you. I lost my appetite with all this discussion on my death.”

  He set the wing back in the tray, closed it, and put the platter on the ground. “That’s okay. We don’t have much time.”

  Horror took me. “Why not?”

  “Vernon is a young one. Those cops will scare him into saying everything.”

  “But God will protect you.”

  “He will, but I must act now.”

  Cold shivers ran through me. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Baptize you.”

  “Why not suffocate me with a pillow?”

  “I never did that.”

  “Vernon did?”

  “He. . .he had a certain affinity to it.”

  “And you let him?”

  “Because it was a loving way to send those girls to God.”

  “But you’ve taken and sent girls to God before.”

  “I did, but I would always baptize them.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. “You mean. . .you would drown them?”

  “They all went to God.”

  “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Drown me?” My body shook. “Please, don’t do this.”

  “Baptism symbolizes your accepting Jesus Christ as real. You’re giving a visual testimony of your commitment to Christ.”

  Desperation took me. “Don’t fucking kill me! Please!”

  Pastor Miller frowned. “There’s nothing you can do about it, Haven.”

  “The devil is a lie!”

  His sadness shifted to anger. “No. The devil is inside of you.”

  “Then, how are you going to send me to God?”

  He rose from his chair. “Time to go, Haven.”

  “Wait. No.”

  He walked to the back and dragged the chair and me to the door.

  “No! Wait. Pastor Miller! Where are we going?!”

  Opening the door, he continued to drag me out of the room. The chair’s legs screeched along the wooden floor.

  “Pastor Miller!” I shook in the rope. “Wait! I don’t want to die right now! Please!”

  The dark hallway revealed nothing. No other doors or windows. This must’ve been a super small church in its day. All I gathered was cobwebs and debris on the floor.

  He continued to drag me along.

  The floorboard squeaked and cracked. Clearly, he didn’t care about the noise or scratching on the floor. Every muscle in my body tightened.

  When he finally stopped, I looked around the new space.

  Where the hell is this?

  As I took in the room, he began to sing His Eye is on the Sparrow. My heart boomed in my ears, blocking him out and trying to figure out a way to escape.

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  Okay. We’re on the pulpit.

  I could barely make out the area. It was much smaller than the church we found Brie in. There were seven pews. The pulpit was two feet high. I looked down to the side. A small box of muddy water sat in the center of the floor.

  This is where his father baptized people. No. No. I won’t die here. I can’t.

  Pastor Miller sang some more.

  “Pastor, please,” I cried. “Listen. There are other ways I can go to God.”

  He stopped singing. “What are you saying, child?”

  “W-why this way? Why not. . .a sleeping pill or stabbing me?”

  “This is how my father did it.”

  “He sent girls to God too?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “W-why?”

  “Because the police didn’t believe that the KKK would keep on bothering our community. So, he had to baptize a few white girls. Show the KKK that we wouldn’t stand for their mess anymore—”

  “Jesus. Your father was the one who took the KKK’s girls?”

  “I held them down for him and said the words.”

  I trembled. “W-what were the words?”

  “The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom I shall fear.” He scooted my chair back.

  “No! Wait!”

  He dragged the chair into the muddy water.

  “Pastor Miller!” Tears streamed down my eyes as I lowered into the baptismal pool. “Please, don’t! Please!”

  “The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” He leaned my chair back, submersing me completely into the water.

  No! I don’t want to die!

  I twisted and turned. Bubbles flew past my face. Water sloshed against me. A shudder worked through my body. I tried to keep my mouth closed so I wouldn’t sallow water or choke. My lungs burned. Pounding, my head bobbed. Panic seized my heart.

  Every cell in my body screamed for oxygen. I kept fighting and fighting until my head was ready to explode. I had to take a breath.

  Please, God!

  Hope left.

  My prayers too.

  There was only the murky dark water.

  All around.

  Closing in.

  No air.

  Gagging, I fought for breath. The water stung my eyes, filled my nose, and slowly it poured down my throat.

  Chapter 36

  The Search

  Alexander

  The search party headed out—agents and cops.

  Sheriff Michaelson met my pace.

  My body tightened with stress and unease.

/>   “Agent King, we may have our differences, but I knew Haven’s father.” Sheriff Michaelson put his hat on his head. “I watched Haven grow up. Anything you need from me, just ask.”

  “I need all your people following us.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. They’re heading that way, and I’m coming too.”

  “Good. I’ll need everybody helping me find her.”

  “We’ll get her. Don’t you worry about that.”

  As soon as we left the station, reporters appeared with microphones, sticking them in the sheriff’s and my face. They crowded the front and almost blocked us from getting to our cars.

  A blond jumped in front of me. “Is Pastor Miller the Angel Maker, or is it his grandson?”

  A red head got to my right. “Is it true that the Angel Maker has a federal agent?”

  I moved past them.

  A tall man stood in front. “What is the latest you can tell us about the Angel Maker?”

  Sheriff Michaelson roared, “Get out of the way! No comment, goddamn it!”

  A woman with glasses hurried after us. “Should we all be worried?”

  Sheriff Michaelson growled, “You should be worried that I’m going to arrest all of you. Go on now!”

  The reporters stepped back. I shoved through them. The sheriff kept my pace. There had to be about thirty more reporters there, all hungry for the facts and breaking news.

  I jumped in the SUV and gunned the engine. I slammed my foot on the accelerator. The SUV shot out of the lot. Jerking the vehicle to the right, I almost crashed into a news van.

  Speeding forward, I glanced behind me. Sirens blared. Blue and red lights flashed in the moonlit darkness. Fire trucks and an ambulance followed too.

  We raced through the streets.

  Haven’s face flickered in my head. I thought about the last moment I held her. The soft feel of her body as she fell asleep in my arms.

  She’ll be safe. Don’t worry.

  My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. My jaw locked as my whole body stacked with cold tension. I increased the speed, zooming by several of the cops until I was close to the front.

  All my control had shattered.

  Come on. Get us there soon.

  I would be nothing without Haven. I realized that the moment I discovered she was gone. Even worse, if Haven died today, I wouldn’t survive it. The grief would rip me apart.

  No. Don’t think about it. You’ll get her. You’ll save her. It will all work out.

  My face felt cold. Icy pinpricks shot through my flesh.

  The GPS tracker indicated I had five more minutes before reaching the church. Not much time. We were close, but not near enough. Every muscle in my body tightened.

  I can’t be too late. No.

  I rounded a dark dirt road and increased my speed some more. There were no streetlights, but the full moon glowed and illuminated my way.

  Come on. Goddamn it! Let’s go!

  My heart eased when I spotted the church up ahead.

  Pastor Miller’s Cadillac was parked in front.

  Yes. Please be alive! Please. She has to be.

  I sped up to the front of the church and stomped my foot on the brake. Clouds of dirt rose around the SUV. Quick, I reached into the backseat, snagged my bulletproof vest, and took my gun.

  She’ll be fine.

  I was out of the SUV next, walking and putting on the vest at the same time.

  Cops arrived seconds later, rushing out of their cars with me.

  Where is she? Where the hell is she?

  Sand flew from beneath my feet as I charged forward.

  Please, be alive.

  I gripped my gun, ready to shoot Pastor Miller’s head off. There would be no following any sort of procedure this evening. If I didn’t see Haven, I would torture him until he took me to her.

  And if he did anything. . .

  Don’t. There’s no need to think about it. She’ll be fine.

  We ran, heading for the church. It was isolated. No one had built anything in the area in many years.

  Gun leading the way, I shifted my fast walk into a jog. My heart thudded in my ribs.

  Come on. Get there!

  I raced up the steps. Somehow Sheriff Michaelson got to my side. For an old guy, he had nothing but energy.

  Just as I was about to kick down the door, the sheriff jumped in front of me. “Hold on. The door is unlocked. We should go in quietly and not startle him. We don’t know what he could be doing.”

  My chest rose and fell. “Fine but send your men around the back. I don’t want him to escape.”

  “I already set the orders.”

  I took a quick breath and quietly opened the door, barely an inch.

  The Pastor’s voice came out into the night air. “The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom I shall fear.”

  I widened my eyes and opened some more.

  “No!” Haven screamed. “Wait!”

  She’s alive. Thank God, but what is he doing to her?

  I tried to run in.

  Sheriff put up his hands. “Give my men time to block the back.”

  I spoke through clenched my teeth, “She’s alive. They better hurry. I go in ten seconds.”

  I gestured for more cops to come up the stairs. We had to act fast and precise, or this could mean Haven’s life.

  A scratching noise sounded.

  “Pastor Miller!” Haven yelled. “Please, don’t! Please!”

  “The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

  I slammed through the door, ran in, and aimed at Pastor Miller’s head. “FBI! Stop!”

  Only the moonlight filled the small dusty space. Standing on a pulpit, Pastor Miller raised his hands. “No need to shoot, Agent King. Everything is okay. I was just helping Haven.”

  I hurried forward, frantically scanning the area and not seeing her. “Where is she?”

  “She’s gone to God now.”

  “Where is she?!” I ran toward him.

  “She’s gone, Agent Kin—”

  I shot him in his chest and got to the pulpit. That was when I noticed the pool of water within the stage. I stared down. The dark water rippled.

  “No!” I dove in. It was around five feet deep. Splashing in it, I reached for anything. My hands met with something—a body, a chair, wood. It didn’t matter. I was going to lift everything out of that murky water until I saw her.

  I lifted the heavy object up. “Haven!”

  Goddamn it.

  Thankfully, she’s been in the object that I’d felt. Her body shook. Her eyes were wide open, but I could tell that she had possibly gone unconscious. Wet hair clung to her cheeks. She wasn’t breathing. Her body was heavy and cold.

  “Hold on, Haven! I’m right here.” I dragged her out, heaving the chair up. Water streamed down her spasming body. “I need a knife to cut the ropes!”

  Sherriff Michaelson yelled, “We found her. Get your asses in here. We need help!”

  “Haven, I’m here!” I bent over her, checking for a pulse. I found a weak beat. It was there—blood pumping in a vein, right under my finger.

  Water trickled from Haven’s mouth and nose.

  “You’re not dying,” I turned her head to the side. “I’m right here.”

  Sheriff Michaelson yelled, “Get the EMTs in here now!”

  “Come on, Haven.” I forced her mouth open wider. More water poured from her lips. I began the Heimlich maneuver, applying a sudden upward thrust with my clenched fist to Haven’s abdomen just beneath the rib cage. Pumping and counting. Pumping and counting.

  “Come on, baby. Please, don’t leave me.” My hands shook as I pumped.

  More water spilled out of her mouth. Water spat up from Haven’s mouth. She coughed

  Thank you, God.

  “Excuse me, sir.” An EMT moved me out of the way.

  Another EMT had scissors. He cut the rope and freed her from the chair. The third one shifted to mouth-to-
mouth.

  Haven coughed out more water. Then, she rolled over, coughing, shaking, and trying to suck in desperate gulps of air.

  But in the end, she was breathing.

  Thank you, Jesus. I’ll serve you for the rest of my life.

  The first EMT yelled. “Get her on the stretcher.”

  That was the moment I realized I had been holding my breath.

  Thank you.

  I exhaled and inhaled for a few seconds, rushing after them. Another set of EMTs went for Pastor Miller. He’d been on the ground, bleeding through his chest.

  I knew I would get heat for shooting him and didn’t care. If that bullet cost me my job, then let it be. He’d come close to killing Haven. He had misled his grandson to help him kidnap and suffocate little girls, destroying so many others’ lives in the process.

  I hope you die before you get to the hospital, Pastor.

  They carried Haven away on the stretcher.

  I followed. I planned to stay with her for the rest of these days. I would not leave her side no matter who ordered it.

  We made it outside. Chaos ensued. The fire truck did it’s best to block news vans, but they’d appeared and had their cameras flashing. This image would be on the news all over the nation this evening. Every channel would want to show it.

  At least Mrs. Barron will know that Haven was found. I’ll have to call her as soon as we get to the hospital.

  Deputies and agents swarmed the property. Some scattered into the woods. Others went into the church. A forensics truck arrived next. Surely, there would be tons of evidence from the Fullbrooke Six here.

  Forgetting the SUV, I’d brought there, I rode in the ambulance with Haven, sitting right by her side and holding her hand.

  The whole time I whispered to her, “I’ll never let you out of my sight. Do you hear me, Haven? You’re stuck with me now, whether you want it or not.”

  She fluttered her eyes open. A weak smile spread across her face.

  “Don’t you smile at me, Agent Barron.” I lowered and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “I almost had a heart attack today.”

  She closed her eyes, but the smile remained on her face.

  I squeezed her hand. “I love you, Haven. It might be too soon to say. . .but I love you.”

  I didn’t know if she heard me. It didn’t matter if she did. I planned to tell her several more times in the next days.

  Yes. I fucking love you.