by Ingrid Thoft
“You’re welcome. I’m assuming the churchgoing is for a case?”
“Yes. An old flame of Carl’s has hired me to vet the church. Her daughter is a member and wants to give them all her money.”
“How old’s the daughter?”
“Thirty. She can do whatever she wants, but her mom thinks the place is more cult than house of worship. I’m going to check it out.” Fina popped a bite of buttered toast into her mouth.
“Hard to believe a born-again church would have enough members to survive in Boston.”
“I think that’s why they survive: a pocket of conservatism in a bastion of liberalism. I’ve watched a couple of sermons, and I think the pastor likes being the underdog.”
“Us against them?” Milloy asked.
“Something like that.” Fina pulled the Sunday Style section from the stack. “Do you still consider yourself a Catholic?”
“Sure.” He proceeded to crack various joints, which produced horrible sounds but a lovely flexing of his muscles.
“Even though you aren’t practicing?” she asked.
“I was raised in the Church. I don’t agree with all the teachings, but I still identify with it.”
Fina chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t get that. If you don’t agree with them, why do you still feel a connection?”
Milloy rested his forearms on the table and grinned. “Really? You don’t get the concept of disagreeing with something, but strongly identifying with it nonetheless? Seriously, Ludlow?”
Fina sat back in her chair and smiled. “Oh, right. Those people.”
“Yes. Those people. You can’t ever get away from where and what you came from. Even if it’s not part of your DNA, it seeps into you.”
“I get that, but that’s not true for my client’s daughter. She wasn’t raised in this tradition. In fact, the church’s ideology is contrary to how she was raised.”
Milloy shrugged. “Maybe that’s the point.”
Fina considered that. “Maybe, but I’m not sure what she gets out of it.”
“I wish I could go with you,” Milloy said, stacking their dishes and bringing them into the kitchen with Fina in his wake. “I imagine the eye rolling on your part is going to be epic.”
“No, no. I’m going to behave myself. I’m a guest, and I don’t want to offend anyone.”
“Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“I already have. I learned from my research on Friday that I’m not a godly woman.”
“Fina,” Milloy said, smacking her butt as she sauntered out of the kitchen. “I could have told you that.”
• • •
Covenant Rising was located a couple of miles off Route 9 in Framingham. It occupied a parcel of land bordered by a nondescript low-rise office complex and undeveloped woods. Tucked into the trees, the structure was brick and fronted by three sets of glass double doors. Fina couldn’t decide if it looked more like a state park welcome center or a medical office. The large parking lot was full, and young men in orange traffic vests were directing cars onto a grassy area nearby.
Fina stepped out of the car and smoothed down her skirt. Since the visit was work related, she’d tamped down her desire to rebel and had chosen a fairly conservative getup. Her skirt was topped with a V-neck sweater and scarf, worn with black tights and low heels. She wore her long brown hair loose, and her minimal makeup consisted of tinted moisturizer, mascara, and lip gloss. She wanted to look harmless and virtuous.
Chloe met her at the front door.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, leading Fina through the lobby. The space was high ceilinged and open. There were chairs and couches against the walls, with coffee and tea service situated on a console table. “I know that my mom is paying you, but it doesn’t matter what brings you through the door.”
Fina smiled. That sounded like rehab-speak.
“Would you like coffee or tea?” Chloe asked.
“I’m good, thanks. Are you going to get some?”
Chloe leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “I can’t drink tea made from a tea bag and definitely not from a paper cup.”
“Ah. Now who’s the tea snob?”
Chloe laughed and moved in the direction of the parish hall.
A young man in jeans and a button-down shirt handed them printed programs. The room was large with vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows behind the altar, which was on a raised area. There were three sections of pews made from a warm-colored wood, separated by two aisles. Off to the side, a seven-person rock band played enthusiastically. Potted plants framed the pulpit, and on the walls, ten painted canvases were devoted to the Ten Commandments. Each featured a commandment written in large script with an abstract depiction of the order. “Thou shall not kill” showcased dark swirls and fearful eyes. It was weird and creepy.
They took a seat in a pew halfway down the left-hand aisle. A few congregants greeted Chloe and she, in turn, introduced them to Fina. Everyone was friendly and jovial. Most of the people looked to be in their thirties and forties, many with young children, although there was a handful of twentysomethings and retirees. Everyone was dressed neatly but casually, and Fina felt overdressed.
There was a frisson of excitement in the air when a woman and two children came down one of the aisles and sat in the first pew.
“That’s Pastor Greg’s wife and kids,” Chloe told her.
Gabby Gatchell looked to be in her mid-thirties. A petite woman with dark blond hair spilling down her back in big, loose curls, her face was just shy of being too made-up. There was no hint of her pregnancies in her flat stomach and toned legs, both of which were on display in a fitted dress with modest long sleeves and a scooped neck. The whole package reminded Fina of a porn version of a teacher: appropriate, pretty, and modest, with hints of a smoking body that would be revealed during detention.
The band kicked it into high gear and started playing a raucous number. The worshippers stood and clapped with the beat as the lead singer vocalized about salvation and eternity.
After a couple of minutes, a man in jeans, T-shirt, and an expensive-looking leather jacket came down the aisle and ascended to the stage. The jacket was deep brown and shone under the lights. Coupled with his sleek headphone mike, the outfit looked more “sober rock star” than religious leader.
“That’s Pastor Greg,” Chloe told her once the music had ended, and the crowd had returned to their seats.
Pastor Greg was cute enough, with a round face and wavy brown hair. He was of average height and had a sturdy build. Fina thought she could see a battle of the bulge in his future.
He beamed at the congregation. “Welcome and bless you. Seeing your faces, ready to worship and exalt Jesus Christ, makes me a very happy man.” His eyes panned the room. “Today is a most sacred and beautiful day!”
Amens rang out throughout the parish.
“I want to talk to you today about temptation,” Pastor Greg said, his smile evaporating. “I know every single one of you struggles with it. We all wrestle with sin on a daily basis. That’s the way Satan wants it.” He walked from one side of the stage to the other. “He wants to wear you down, to tire you out. He wants you to cut corners and take shortcuts ’cause that’s what makes him happy. That’s what fuels him: your sin. It gives him strength, which spreads and infects every part of our lives.”
Pastor Greg stopped moving and faced the audience for a moment before looking down and smiling, as if he were in on a big joke that the worshippers didn’t yet know. He looked up at them. “Now, I see some of you out there, and I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘But Pastor Greg, I don’t really sin. I’m a good guy. I don’t cheat on my wife or drink too much.’ Or you gals think, ‘I follow my husband and set a good example for my children. I’m righteous and godly and always choose the way of the Lord. I honor Jesus
’s sacrifice by living a holy and pure life.’” The audience chuckled nervously.
“And that may be true of most of you—although we know there are sinners amongst us who are not following the word of God, who are not obeying their Heavenly Father—but I’m not talking about you today. I’m talking about the little sins, the trespasses, and you know what?” He leaned forward, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. “Those sins make Satan just as happy as the big sins do. You see, Satan wants to lull you into thinking that some sins are small and don’t matter, that God isn’t watching and taking notes, but God is watching, and he didn’t sacrifice his only son so you could take the easy way out. He loves you. He loves you no matter what, and you need to honor him by fighting temptation and saying no to sin.”
His voice grew louder, and he began pacing. “Did you gossip about your neighbor? That’s a sin. Did you ding someone’s car at the mall and not leave a note? That’s a sin. Did you lie to your wife about how many beers you had at the game with the guys? Or to your husband about how much that new purse cost? Did you tell Mom and Dad you brushed your teeth when you didn’t? Those are sins. When you sin and hide it, you’re not protecting God, you’re promoting Satan, and you have to ask yourself, whose team am I on? Who am I playing for every moment of my earthly life: God or Satan?”
Is there a third option? Fina wondered, looking around at the rapt faces. Chloe was nodding along to Pastor Greg’s words, and the room was sprinkled with amens and other murmurs of agreement. Fina strained to keep her face a mask so as to impede her gag reflex.
Fina had always had difficulty with the concept of sin. Who defined it and how? She knew the evangelicals would claim that Jesus did in the Bible, but that claim seemed dubious. Her personal philosophy was to try not to hurt people, unless they deserved it, which brought her back to that definition problem and a whole lot of gray area.
“We all know that goodness in our hearts is the best way to follow the Lord’s path, but goodness alone isn’t enough. We live in a materialistic world, a world where good intentions are not enough.”
Here it comes, Fina thought.
“You need to give to the mission. You need to give to the fight. You need to give everything you can, and then, you need to give more. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it require sacrifice? Yes. But you will never regret serving and supporting the work of the Lord. You will only regret it if you don’t.”
Pastor Greg continued on for another ten minutes, and then the band played as the elders came up the aisles, passing brass bowls down the pews. When they walked the bowls back to the pulpit, they were overflowing with cash. An elder was welcomed to the stage, and he spoke for a few minutes about upcoming prayer groups and service events. There was another song, a few more prayers, and then Pastor Greg left the stage to fetch Gabby and the girls. The foursome held hands as they came up the aisle, beaming.
Outside the sanctuary, a crowd congregated around a table laden with refreshments, and a long line formed on the other side of the lobby.
“I want to introduce you to Pastor Greg and Gabby,” Chloe said, stepping to the end of the line.
“Great,” Fina said, taking a spot next to her. They chatted about the sermon as they waited, reaching the front of the line ten minutes later.
Chloe and Pastor Greg shook hands and exchanged blessings.
“Pastor Greg, I want to introduce you to my friend Fina Ludlow,” she told him.
Fina extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor. Thank you for welcoming me this morning.”
“I am so glad you’re here,” he said, looking into her eyes and grasping her hand. “God loves you.”
Fina offered a wide smile. “I know, and I couldn’t be more pleased. He loves you, too!”
“Amen to that,” Greg replied.
“Fina is helping with the land bequest,” Chloe said.
“Uh-huh,” Fina agreed, glancing at Chloe. “I’d love to talk with you about it, Pastor.”
“Of course. Just call the office and set something up,” Greg said, squeezing her hand once more before releasing it.
Next, Gabby and Chloe embraced. One of the children—Fina didn’t know if it was Mercy, Faith, Charity, or Chastity—held on to Gabby’s waist, twisting her mother’s dress in her grip.
Introductions were made, and Gabby tried to pry her young daughter off of her. “We’re so glad you’re here,” Gabby said to Fina, shaking her hand.
“Thank you. That’s so kind.” And so hard to believe, Fina thought. They didn’t even know her, but if they did, they’d probably be less enthusiastic.
The long line behind them discouraged small talk, so Chloe and Fina moved toward the front door.
“Chloe,” Fina said. “I’m not sure I’d characterize my involvement as ‘helping with the land bequest.’”
“I know.” Chloe smiled ruefully and shrugged. “I know my mom wants to stop it, but I want a chance to change your mind about the church.”
“I should warn you, my mind isn’t easily changed.”
“I’m not worried,” Chloe said, brushing aside the topic. “Can you stay for a little while? I’d like to introduce you to some more people.”
“Of course.”
After an hour spent meeting lots of earnest congregants and eating delicious baked goods, Fina and Chloe took their leave.
“Thanks for letting me join you today,” Fina said as they stood next to Chloe’s car.
“It was my pleasure. I hope it was useful.”
“It was. Can you suggest some people I can speak with to get more information, particularly financial information?”
Chloe considered the question for a moment. “Pastor Greg, obviously, and probably someone from the leadership committee: Lucas Chellew or Nadine Quaynor might be helpful.”
“If you could send me their contact info, that would be great.”
“Of course.”
Fina started to extend her hand, but Chloe reached over and hugged her instead. Her hair smelled like strawberries.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Chloe said, pulling open her car door.
Fina walked in the direction of the grassy parking area.
“Fina!”
She turned back toward Chloe.
“You may not agree with our beliefs, but I hope that doesn’t taint your impression of the church. I know my mom wants to protect me, but I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
Fina shook her head. “I won’t let a difference of opinion cloud my judgment. I promise.”
Chloe smiled. “Thanks.”
Fina got into the car and pulled out of her makeshift parking space.
She didn’t agree with what she’d heard that morning, but neither was she a fan of parents imposing their will on their adult children.
Fina couldn’t understand the appeal of the church, but maybe she never would.
She wasn’t exactly a “joiner.”
• • •
During the drive home, Fina couldn’t help but ruminate about her family situation. Like a barnacle on a rock, her mind kept attaching itself to the fact of Rand’s return.
As she inched through the E-Z Pass lane on the Pike, Fina forced herself to take a step back. She needed to assess the situation as she would for a client. The ability to see gray areas and still make tough choices while practicing empathy made Fina good at her job, and perhaps that was what was missing in this scenario. It wasn’t unusual for Fina to feel a connection with a client or someone with whom her path crossed in the course of an investigation, but she never let that cloud her judgment or inform her investigative choices. Fina was so invested, so desperate to fix the Rand situation, that she had let her emotional involvement cloud her judgment.
She needed to stop thinking like an aunt and start thinking like a PI. If a client showed up at her door and asked
her to do a background check on a prospective employee or boyfriend, she’d get to work. Whatever information she uncovered would be shared with her client with the understanding that information could be wielded like a weapon. Weapons served as deterrents, tools of punishment, and means of revenge, their form dependent upon who was wielding them. Fina needed to build an arsenal.
She knew that Rand had gotten into trouble long before he started abusing Haley, but she didn’t know all the details of his past sins. Those sins might just provide the leverage that Fina needed.
Starting now, Fina was her own client.
FOUR
Fina kicked off the next day by working the phones. Her efforts netted unsatisfying results, including voice mail messages for Lucas Chellew and Nadine Quaynor. Chloe had given her the basics on her fellow members, but she needed more info. She inputted their names into one of the pay search services. Neither had criminal records, and both had a couple of non-moving violations. Lucas owned a house in Dedham with his wife, Heather. Nadine owned a home in Dorchester, but despite being married to an Evan Quaynor, only her name was on the deed. They’d both attended college, and Nadine was employed by Williams & Lewiston, one of the largest accounting firms in the state. Lucas had worked for Macy’s for the past decade. If they had any skeletons, they were buried deep.
Next, she put in a call to Pastor Greg’s office. The pastor was a very busy man, or perhaps he was just too busy for Fina. Despite his enthusiastic greeting after the service, she doubted he wanted to speak with her about Chloe’s land bequest. When it became clear Fina wouldn’t be deterred, his secretary agreed to fit her in a bit later in the day between a food pantry project and an elders’ meeting. It was like getting an audience with the pope.
Fina was hopeful that her meeting with Hal Boyd, her financial wizard, would be more fruitful. Hal was an expert at ferreting out financial secrets and wasn’t overly concerned with pesky notions like whether or not something was legal.
“What did you find out about Covenant Rising Church?” she asked him. They were meeting in Central Square at a diner a couple of streets off Mass Ave. It was midmorning, and Hal was sipping coffee while Fina nursed a mug of hot chocolate. “I hope it’s something good, and when I say good, I mean bad.”
