“Of course,” he stated. Maxwell wasn’t pleased with his lie. The youth program was the one initiative that did matter to him. He’d donated over five hundred thousand dollars of his own money last year to rehab two community centers. His heart was in the right place when it came to helping at-risk youths in the neighborhoods. It helped him downplay his discomfort with lying.
“Okay, Mr. Montgomery. Give me a minute.”
Maxwell anxiously waited. After the lady was gone for more than five minutes, he grew restless, wondering what was taking so long. As he was about to hang up and redial, the lady returned.
“The pastor can see you next Thursday, at two o’clock.”
That was over a week away. He couldn’t possibly wait that long. Maxwell wanted answers now. “Next week doesn’t work for me.” He laid on the charm, willing to try any method that would get him in sooner. “I wonder if it’s at all possible to see him sooner. Is there any way you can help me?”
“I’ll have to see. It took quite a bit to get you in next Thursday.”
Maxwell wasn’t ready to give in. This was too important. He continued pushing in an appealing tone. “I am so grateful for your help. If there is any way I can come in today or tomorrow, you will be my personal hero.”
When Maxwell heard her giggling, he was relieved. “Let me see what I can do.” For this round, she came back much quicker. “Can you come in this afternoon, at four thirty, or tomorrow—”
Maxwell cut her off before she could finish. “I’ll be there at four thirty. Thank you. You’re my hero.”
“Oh, you’re too kind.”
They wrapped up the call, and Maxwell relaxed. His plan was coming together. Forget about Garrett, he thought. Maxwell would do his own investigation. One way or the other, Pastor Harris was going down. He just didn’t know it yet. Maxwell reclined in his seat and delighted in this notion.
Chapter 6
Maxwell bolted from his office, a stack of files stuffed into his briefcase. He made a quick stop at his assistant’s desk. “I’m going to a meeting and then going home afterward to work on a few cases. Call me if you need me.”
“Will do.”
Maxwell was about to dart out when he remembered his father. “I also need you to call the hospital and find out how much my father owes.”
“The same one in Wilmington that you had me send money to three or four months ago?”
“You got it, except we won’t be able to cover this next bill from the petty cash box.”
“Then how should I pay?” she asked.
“Leave a note on my desk with the information, and I’ll take care of it.”
Maxwell dashed out of his office building, eager to get to his meeting with Pastor Harris in South Philly. With rush-hour traffic gearing up, he was looking at a twenty-minute ride stretched to forty-five minutes or an hour. He wasn’t panicked. In the worst-case scenario, he’d still arrive at least a half hour early. He hurried along. If luck was on his side, he might inadvertently uncover valuable evidence against the church. Nothing else seemed to be working. Wishful thinking was all he had at the moment.
Filtered light peeked through the partially drawn blinds in Pastor Harris’s study, which was filled with books ranging from The Grapes of Wrath and Native Son to his two-thousand-page Strong’s Concordance. He gently closed his Bible and stood up to stretch. Wednesdays were long. They began with 5:00 a.m. prayer at the church and wrapped up with the midweek service from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m., with counseling sessions taking up most of the hours in between. On a good day he took a break for lunch, but if an emergency crept in, like it had today, he forfeited the meal. He rubbed his stomach as it growled. He then poked his head outside the study.
“Martha, do I have time to grab a bite to eat before my next appointment?”
“Didn’t Sister Harris send you with a lunch?” Martha said, laughing and peering over her reading glasses. “She doesn’t let you leave home without a meal.” Martha kept laughing.
“I know she doesn’t.” Pastor reflected on his doting wife. Fifteen years of marriage and not a single day of regret. God had been good to the Harris family, and the pastor knew it. “I gave her a break this morning. The kids were up sick last night. So I eased out this morning for prayer and made sure not to wake her.”
Martha folded her arms. “You’re a good husband, Pastor. God’s going to smile on you.”
“I’m a hungry husband, that’s for sure,” he said as his stomach growled again. “So do I have time to run down the street and grab a hoagie?”
“Let me see,” Martha said as she rolled her chair closer to her desk. She slowly poked at several buttons on the computer while Pastor Harris patiently waited. She finally responded with her index finger pressed against the screen. “Not really, Pastor. You have an appointment at four, and it’s already a quarter to four.”
Pastor shrugged his shoulders. “All right.”
“But I can get you some crackers or something ,” she told him.
“No, don’t worry about it,” he said, waving her off. “I can wait until my meeting is over, and then I’ll go home and eat with my family.”
“Okay, but remember you have Mr. Montgomery coming in at four thirty.”
“Oh boy, that’s right. I’d forgotten about him.” Actually, Pastor Harris wished he could have forgotten about Maxwell completely. After a long day at the church, he didn’t want to end with an antagonistic attorney who was bent on destroying every church in town. Pastor Harris was known to possess an abundance of patience. Admittedly, when it came to Maxwell Montgomery, Pastor was experiencing a shortage. “I wonder if it’s too late to reschedule.”
Martha rolled her eyes at him. Her stare affirmed the answer.
“I know,” he said, anticipating the meeting. “I won’t cancel, but I might run out of energy before he gets here.”
“Don’t you worry, Pastor. I’ll let both of your last appointments know that you have to cut the meeting short.”
He wished that would be sufficient to bridle Maxwell’s tongue. He’d seen the attorney in action several times during the youth project. He had also visited Maxwell’s father in the hospital last year and had prayed with the family. Pastor Harris remembered how gracious Maxwell had been when his father was near death. However, as soon as Mr. Montgomery began recovering, the calculating man whom most ministers dreaded returned with a vengeance.
Pastor Harris recalled Maxwell’s relentless attack on Greater Metropolitan and figured his church was on the same list. He should have been worried and would have been, had it not been for his faith. There was a simple truth that kept him grounded. Faith Temple was a church that belonged to the Lord. Pastor Harris was merely a steward entrusted to take care of God’s house. So Maxwell Montgomery wasn’t a threat to the pastor. The attorney’s fight wasn’t with him. It was with God. Maxwell didn’t know it, but he’d find out in due time.
“Let me get ready for these last few meetings,” he said, then retreated into the study.
Pastor preferred not to be bothered with Maxwell, but there was a tugging at his heart. All sinners, including an attorney who was bent on persecuting the church, deserved mercy before judgment. He was certain that there was a story behind Maxwell’s plight that caused him to be so driven. Pastor Harris tapped into a deep source of compassion in his spirit. He’d need it.
Chapter 7
Maxwell cruised into the parking lot and took a few extra minutes to calm his anxiety. Going after the squeaky-clean Pastor Harris was turning out to be a larger job than he’d anticipated. But Maxwell wasn’t concerned. There had been many squeaky-clean ministers whose reputations were shattered once their dirty secrets got exposed. Some had required more work than others, but if Maxwell shook the trees harboring secrets hard enough, eventually something fell out. Pastor Harris wasn’t any different. Garrett just hadn’t shaken the right tree sufficiently. That’s why Maxwell was handling his own business.
He emerged from the Porsche, poised
and ready. He made his way inside the monstrosity of a church. He wasn’t sure how Faith Temple’s square footage compared to that of Greater Metropolitan, but the church had to hold several thousand people. It was definitely big enough to hold Maxwell’s attention. He could already envision the church being swarmed by the media when the case blew open. He savored the image. That was his platform, and no one in town managed the limelight better than he did.
Maxwell maneuvered through the front entrance and milled around the vestibule until he saw the receptionist. She beckoned for him to enter a room surrounded by glass a little ways down one of the hallways.
“Hello, sir. Can I help you?” an elderly lady asked as he entered the room.
“I’m Maxwell Montgomery. I’m here for a four thirty appointment with Pastor Harris.”
“Oh yes. You’re early. Please come in and have a seat. Pastor is in another meeting right now. He should be with you in about twenty minutes.”
Maxwell took a seat and grabbed the outdated copy of Gospel Today and thumbed through the pages. Then he grabbed the Reader’s Digest, which had only about 40 percent of its cover remaining.
“You’re taking her side,” Maxwell heard someone yell from behind the closed door.
“What was that?” he asked the elderly lady, who peered at Maxwell with a stunned look.
“I apologize, Mr. Montgomery. Pastor is in another meeting. Excuse me,” she whispered and then went to the door labeled PASTOR’S STUDY. She knocked and turned the knob almost in a single motion. “Pastor, we can hear you out here. Did you want me to turn the music on out here in the waiting area?”
Maxwell couldn’t hear the response, but his curiosity was soaring. Arriving early was routine for him, and it was situations like this that paid off. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but whatever it was, Maxwell aimed to capitalize on the situation. He waited until the elderly lady closed the pastor’s door.
“Is everything okay?” Maxwell asked with as much charm as he could muster for a woman old enough to be his mother.
“I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Mr. Montgomery. Everything is fine. Sometimes our church folks just don’t want to be told what’s right and what’s wrong, but Pastor Harris tells them, anyway. He’ll be finishing up soon and will be ready to meet with you.”
Maxwell couldn’t possibly be satisfied with her answer. She hadn’t told him anything worthwhile. This was a golden opportunity. Judging by the yelling he’d heard, he knew there was at least one person who wasn’t singing Pastor Harris’s praises. Maxwell wouldn’t rest until he had a name. The receptionist was his best option for finding out who was in that study.
Maxwell checked his watch. The most he had was ten minutes. He had to get busy and concoct a plan quickly. “Excuse me, Mrs. . . . ?” Maxwell said, searching for a name tag.
“Just call me Martha,” she told him.
“Martha,” Maxwell said, approaching her desk and letting his grin slowly materialize. “Can you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“I need to print off a copy of my presentation for Pastor Harris. Can you help me?”
“Oh yes,” she said, seemingly eager to help. “Is it on one of those memory sticks?”
He placed both hands on the desk but didn’t lean in toward her. There was a fine line between being charming and flirting. He was keen not to cross that line and alienate his only ally in the office. “It’s actually stored in the cloud.”
“What do you mean? Like the clouds outside?”
He chuckled. “Sort of, but it might be easier for me to pull the documents down from the cloud myself and print them, if you don’t mind.”
Martha still appeared confused. “Sure. Why don’t you come on around here and print them for yourself?” She got up and let Maxwell commandeer her computer. “I’m an old lady. I don’t know all this newfangled technology.”
Maxwell accessed the Internet and pretended to do something productive.
“While you’re using my computer, I’m going to get a cup of coffee down the hall. Can I get you a cup too?”
“Yes, please,” he said, elated to have a few minutes alone.
“Cream and sugar?” she asked, walking away.
“Black.”
Before the door closed behind her, Maxwell was clicking on her calendar in hopes of finding the name of whomever was in the office with Pastor Harris. It was 4:28 p.m. Adrenaline was racing through his veins. The yearning to get the information outweighed the fear of getting caught. He clicked quicker and read faster. Bingo. A few seconds later, he was staring at a name. Maxwell snatched a piece of paper and a pen from Martha’s desk caddy, which was neatly and prominently displayed on top of her desk. Fireworks burst inside him as he jotted down the information. Not only was there a name, but he also had a phone number and a brief description of the nature of the visit. He was about to click on the description details when the door to Pastor Harris’s study opened and a fairly tall guy stormed out and flew past Maxwell with a scowl.
Maxwell stood from the receptionist’s seat and covertly jammed the piece of paper into his pocket as the pastor stared at him. Maxwell was conjuring up a lie when Martha whisked into the office.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I hope you were able to print what you needed,” Martha said.
“I couldn’t find it in my online storage,” Maxwell responded.
“Well, if you couldn’t find it, there’s no hope for me,” she said, amused.
“No problem. I’ll get it later.”
“Mr. Montgomery, come on in,” Pastor Harris told him.
Maxwell wasn’t sure what the pastor was thinking. Hopefully, Maxwell hadn’t raised his suspicion level too early in the investigation. He’d soon see. He followed the pastor into the study and shut the door behind them.
“Have a seat,” Pastor Harris offered as he sat down on the sofa. “How’s your father?”
The question caught Maxwell off guard. He wasn’t prepared to address matters pertaining to his personal life. He was there strictly for business and opted to shift the conversation back to a topic within his comfort zone. “Looks like you had an angry customer before me.”
“Oh, him? Nah. He’s just a man saved by grace, like the rest of us sinners.”
“Sinners, huh? I guess there are plenty of those around here.” Maxwell finally took a seat
“How can I help you?”
Maxwell was disappointed that Pastor Harris hadn’t taken the bait and dived into defending the church. He was confident there’d be another opportunity. “Figured we could reignite the youth initiative. I initially worked on the project with Bishop Jones, but, well, you know what happened to him.”
“I do know. He was railroaded into prison.”
Maxwell shifted his weight in the seat. “I wouldn’t say he was railroaded.”
“What would you call it, then, when an entire church is brought to its knees over the deeds of a few?”
“I call it justice,” Maxwell snarled. “Bishop Jones wasn’t an angel. He was prosecuted, convicted, and sentenced according to the law, or do you think the church is above the law?”
“Depends on whose law you’re talking about.”
“What other law is there?” Maxwell replied as his agitation rose.
“There’s man’s law and God’s law.”
“Please. You’re not about to feed me a pack of mumbo jumbo to justify wrongdoing in the church, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t want to lose respect for you that easily,” Maxwell replied.
“Respect is freely given and freely received. It goes both ways.”
Maxwell continued being surprised by Pastor Harris. He’d sized him up to be a timid fella. Turned out he might have underestimated the pastor’s gutsiness.
“Greater Metropolitan had some problems,” Pastor Harris commented.
“Selling prescription drugs in the church is more than a
problem. It’s a felony,” Maxwell stated.
“And those responsible should be held accountable before the court and before the Lord. Their innocence and guilt would come forth in due season. But it’s appalling for you to attack good people, like Deacon Steve Burton, to make a buck.”
Maxwell ignored the comment about Burton, as he didn’t think it was Pastor Harris’s business. “Are you implying that I’m going after the church to make money?”
“Any other reason would represent pure evil,” Pastor Harris said, leaning on the arm of his short sofa. He sat there, looking smug, spewing his self-righteousness. Maxwell was fuming.
“Turns out that I don’t have to meet with you, after all.”
“But I thought you wanted to talk about the youth initiative.”
“Maybe another time,” Maxwell replied, then stood and left the study, mad. He bolted past Martha and out the church doors.
“What is going on?” Martha asked the pastor when he appeared in the doorway to his study. “You had two rough meetings back-to-back.”
“Looks like it. I guess people don’t always want to hear the truth. As they say, you can run from your demons for a while, but eventually, they’ll catch up with you, unless you take refuge in the Lord’s protection. Both of those men need prayer and a lot of it.”
Chapter 8
Sonya’s heart raced as she returned to the pit of doom. Being back in Maxwell Montgomery’s office was the last place on earth she wanted to be, but what choice did she have? With each step she took, her fury boiled. She drew in a deep breath, intent on containing her anger. She had to if there was any possibility of this man helping her. She drew strength, reached for the doorknob to his private office, and burst in before actions and rationale had time to collaborate.
She found Maxwell sitting at his desk, with a stack of folders and papers strewn around. Sonya wasn’t surprised to see him alone and working on a Saturday morning. That was his regular schedule.
“Sonya,” he called out, appearing uneasy. “What are you doing here?”
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