by Nancy Mehl
After the woman asked us to stand, the crowd became quiet, respectful. Although I’d told myself I probably wouldn’t like the music much, as the first strains began, I felt overwhelmed by something powerful stirring within my heart. A feeling of love filled the room. As people began to sing the words that were projected on two big screens mounted on the walls, I could hear the adoration and passion for God in their songs. As the music swelled and the voices blended together, worshipers began to lift their hands. I’d never seen this before, but it seemed so natural. So right. I remembered a passage in the Bible about people lifting holy hands to God, and I found my hand slipping upward. It was as if I were directing this wave of praise to Him. I tried to sing along, but I was too overcome by emotion. I couldn’t get the words out, so I just read them as the congregation poured out their praise to God. After a couple of songs with a faster beat, the music slowed down. I was touched by words that declared God was the very breath we breathe.
I was surprised when the strains of a song I’d heard back in Kingdom drifted gently from the stage—“’Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” At first I was afraid it would take me out of the glorious atmosphere and bring back dark memories from the past, but instead, the words ministered to me. I felt God’s arms around me the same way I had last night. There was something about praising Him with all these people that seemed to make His presence so strong and personal. I snuck a look at Zac. His eyes were closed, and I could tell that he wasn’t just mouthing the words. He was in communion with God. I glanced around me and saw the beatific faces of the people near me. God was here. Their praise wasn’t coming forth because it was expected or because it was time to sing. It came from hearts full of worship for a Father who adored His children.
When the swell finally slowed, the woman leading the service left the podium. Even this was something I’d never seen in our church. Women didn’t talk during the service. And they certainly weren’t leaders. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was wrong, but how could it be? How could anything so beautiful, so full of God, not be His will?
Then a man went up to the podium and led a prayer. Afterward, he told us we could sit down. When we were seated, he mentioned several things going on in the church. I was surprised by all the small groups offered to the members and was impressed when he talked about their large youth group and an upcoming missions trip that summer to Uganda. This congregation was certainly active.
Then Jonathon came up on the stage. He was wearing black slacks, a blue shirt, and a dark-blue tie. He looked so handsome I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Memories of his kiss distracted me from what he was saying, and I fought to focus on his words, trying to forget the feeling of his lips on mine.
He began to talk about how God has a plan for everyone’s life, and that we can slow down His plan by living in the past. “Whether our pain is caused by something we did, or something that was done to us, looking backward can keep us from moving forward. The apostle Paul spent many years aiding in the persecution of Christians. He stood by while Stephen was stoned to death. But on the road to Damascus, he discovered God’s plan. God called him to spread the truth of Christ to the Gentiles. I’m sure Paul felt great conviction about his past and regretted his actions. But he had a choice. Either he could turn his eyes on Jesus and away from the things he’d done before he met Christ, or he could spend his life suffering for those mistakes. When faced with that choice, he said this: ‘One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.’ Paul’s decision was vital to his calling. If he’d allowed his painful past to overshadow his faith in God’s love and forgiveness, he never would have stepped into a ministry that changed the world.”
Although I wasn’t near the front of the church, I was almost certain Jonathon was looking at me as he said, “God has something wonderful for you. Turn from the past and step into the freedom and power found in Him. People need the gifts that have been hidden inside you. You’re important to the church. To the world. And to the people who love you. God has called you to touch lives. And you can’t fulfill that calling if you’re imprisoned in the past.”
I only half listened to the rest of his sermon. Was Jonathon really talking to me? There was nothing I wanted more than to leave my past behind. It was the reason I’d left Kingdom. But had I just dragged it with me? I was still the injured child. Angry, hurt, defensive. That wasn’t who I wanted to be. But how could I simply turn off the past and be free from what my father had done? The negative image I had of myself? Would God just zap the past away? Was I supposed to pretend it hadn’t happened? Jonathon’s words rang true, yet I had no idea how to get from where I was to where I needed to be.
Before I knew it, the service was over and people were beginning to walk out. I stood up, picked up my purse, and began to follow Zac out of the sanctuary. I was almost to the door when I heard someone call my name. I turned around and found Nate standing behind me. He looked great in jeans, a chambray shirt, and a black leather jacket.
“Wow, you clean up great,” he said with a smile. “Do you have plans?”
“I guess we’re all going to The Oil Lamp for lunch,” I told him. “You’re welcome to join us.”
He frowned. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s nothing formal,” Zac interjected. “Everyone’s welcome. You can ride over with us if you want.”
Nate zipped up his jacket. “Okay, sounds great. I’d love to. Thanks.”
“Have you two met?” I asked.
“Yeah, last night,” Zac said. “Nate saved me a piece of pecan pie, so I guess we’re best friends now. Nice to see you again.”
Nate laughed. “You too. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
Zac grinned. “The more the merrier. As long as Randi doesn’t run out of food, we’re good to go.”
As we walked out the sanctuary doors, I glanced back and saw Jonathon standing at the front of the sanctuary, a small crowd of people around him. It was clear he was very popular with his congregation. Although I wasn’t certain, I thought I caught him looking my way. The flow of people pushed me toward the lobby, so I couldn’t be sure.
Zac, Nate, and I got into my car and made the short drive to The Oil Lamp. We weren’t the first car to pull in, and more cars were coming behind us.
“I’m going to run in and get us a table.” Zac had his door open before I’d come to a full stop in the parking spot. He jumped out of the car and sprinted toward the front door.
“He seems worried about not getting a table.” I looked at Nate in my rearview mirror. “We could go to Mary’s place if The Oil Lamp gets too full.”
Nate looked across the street. “I think Mary closes on Sundays.”
Sure enough, there was no one there.
“Then I’m glad Zac’s willing to fight the crowd for us.”
“Me too.”
I put my hand on the door handle, but Nate stopped me. “Jonathon mentioned the fire last night. Did it have anything to do with what you’re doing?”
“I—I don’t know.” I stared into his green eyes in the mirror, and I saw concern etched on his face. “We need to get inside. Can we have this discussion later?”
He paused and looked out the window for a moment. “You need to know that Jonathon and I talked before the service. He asked me what you’d shared with me, and I told him. I hope you’re not angry, but I couldn’t lie about it.”
“I’m not mad. I was going to tell him anyway.”
“He’s very concerned about you, and so am I.”
“I know,” I said. “Hopefully this will be over soon.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I’m hoping Martin Hatcher and Ben Johnson will be at the restaurant today. For now, they’re my prime suspects. I’d like to get a closer look at them.”
“And then what?”
“I’m not sure.
No matter how Chase has changed the way he looks, I think I can still recognize him. I have to try. It’s all I’ve got.”
I’d told myself—and Jonathon—this same thing more than once, but I suddenly realized that Jonathon hadn’t recognized me when he’d seen me again. Had I put too much stock in being able to identify Chase by sight?
“You don’t sound very confident,” Nate said.
“I know. Look, let’s get inside. If I don’t get a good look at Hatcher and Johnson inside the restaurant, I’m going to track them down this afternoon. If it’s not too late.” I didn’t say it, but the notes, the fire . . . all these things pointed to someone who knew exactly what I was up to. Add that to all the people who knew what I was really doing in Sanctuary, and it made getting my story before everything blew up in my face almost impossible.
We got out of the car and went into the restaurant. I gazed around the packed room and saw Zac sitting at a large table, waving us over.
“Man, what took you guys so long?” he asked as we sat down. “I thought I was going to have to fight several little old ladies for this spot.”
As I slid into my chair, I noticed some people standing at the front of the restaurant, shooting us looks that weren’t appropriate for a Sunday.
“Who are the other chairs for?” I asked.
“Esther, Wynter, Reuben, and Jonathon.”
“Jonathon?” I gulped. “Did he say he was coming?”
Zac looked at me like I was crazy. “No. It’s my psychic ability kicking in.” He laughed. “Yes, he grabbed me when I was coming in today and asked where we were going after church. I told him we were having lunch here, and he asked me to save him a seat.”
I just nodded and turned my attention to the menu sitting in front of me. I wanted to see Jonathon, but a part of me was afraid. Afraid he was sorry about last night.
I was trying to decide between chicken and dumplings and fried catfish when someone sat down in the chair next to me. I looked up from my menu and found Jonathon gazing at me. I could swear my heart stopped beating for a moment, although I was fairly certain that wasn’t really physically possible. After giving him a quick smile, I turned my attention back to the menu. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make sense of the words any longer. The only thing I could think about was how near he was to me.
“Great sermon today, Jonathon,” Zac said from across the table. “It really spoke to me.”
“I’m glad,” Jonathon said. “We all have things from the past we have to deal with. It’s a pretty universal struggle.”
“I agree,” Nate said softly.
I glanced over at Nate and could tell by the expression on his face that something in Jonathon’s sermon had hit home. Seemed Jonathon was right. Very few people had perfect lives.
Jonathon touched me lightly on the arm, and I jumped. I turned to look at him and found him looking past me.
He leaned in close and whispered, “That man over there. The one sitting alone—that’s Martin Hatcher.”
I went back to staring at my menu for a few seconds so it wouldn’t look suspicious if he was looking our way. When I finally lifted my head and turned toward the spot Jonathon had indicated, I found myself staring into the face of a man who could easily be Terrance Chase.
He was the customer in the post office who’d seen my picture of the missing criminal.
Chapter
Twenty
I turned back quickly to Jonathon. “I saw him in the post office,” I whispered. “I accidentally mixed up my picture of Terrance Chase with my mail. I think he saw it. He could have figured out what I was up to the day I arrived here. I think he’s behind everything that’s happened.”
Jonathon put his hand on my arm. “Don’t overreact. He’s looking over here.”
“What’s going on?” Nate asked.
I turned away from Jonathon. “See the guy sitting by himself? Against the far wall? That’s Martin Hatcher.”
“Does he look like Chase?”
I nodded. “Red hair. Square-shaped face. I can’t see if he has hazel eyes or a cleft in his chin from here. Especially since he’s wearing glasses.”
“You people are starting to make me feel insecure.” Zac frowned. “Are you talking about me? Do I look funny or something?”
“I’m sorry,” Jonathon said. “No, we’re not talking about you. And you don’t look any funnier than normal.”
Zac rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks. I feel so much better now.”
“We’ll talk about this later, okay?” Jonathon said to Nate and me.
“Sure. Sorry, Zac,” I said.
Zac picked up his menu but kept his eyes on us. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?”
“That man over there looks like someone I might know,” I said, “but I’m not sure. I didn’t want to say anything to him in case I’m wrong.”
To my horror, Nate got out of his seat and walked over to Hatcher’s table. He leaned over and said something. Hatcher looked up at him and nodded. Nate picked up the bottle of ketchup on the table and brought it back toward us. It was then that I noticed Nate had removed the ketchup from our table and put it on the floor near his chair.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed when he sat back down next to me.
He put the bottle on the table and smiled. “You wanted to know his eye color and if he has a cleft chin, right?”
At that moment, the front door swung open and Esther came in, accompanied by Wynter and Reuben. As they made their way toward our table, I glared at Nate.
“You should have asked me first.”
“Do you want to know the answer?”
I glanced over at Esther. They were almost halfway across the room.
“Yes. Tell me. Quickly.”
“Hazel eyes. Cleft chin. I could tell since his beard is trimmed short. I believe you’ve found him.”
“Found who?” Zac said, frustration in his voice.
“Later, okay?” Jonathon said under his breath.
Zac nodded, just as Esther got to the table. She sat down next to him. Wynter and Reuben took the last empty seats.
“I am sorry we are late,” Esther said. “Surely you all did not wait for me.”
“No one’s taken our order yet,” Jonathon told her. “It’s pretty busy.”
At that moment, Maxie stepped up to the table. “So glad to see you, Esther.” She smiled at the old woman. “What can I get you to drink?”
Zac grinned. “Now I know how to get great service. Just eat with Esther.”
Maxie reached over and slapped him lightly on the arm. “I was on my way over before Esther got here. But I do have to admit that she’s better lookin’ than you.”
The rest of us laughed while Zac struck a comical pose, his bottom lip sticking out. “And I thought you loved me, Maxie.”
I tried to take part in the friendly banter, but I couldn’t look away from Martin Hatcher. Was I staring at Terrance Chase? Had my search finally come to an end?
Hatcher seemed to be concentrating on his meal, so I prayed Nate’s ploy hadn’t tipped him off. Although he’d appeared to be looking at me earlier, now he seemed oblivious to the people around him. With everything that had happened—the attack in the basement, the threatening notes, and the fire—his nonchalant attitude seemed odd. Shouldn’t he be worried I was closing in on him?
Jonathon was talking to Wynter and Reuben about the mine reclamation and Nate had gotten up to go to the bathroom when Zac leaned toward me and whispered, “When he leaves, get his glass. I’ll take it back to St. Louis tomorrow. The police can get fingerprints.”
I stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
He grunted. “I work for a television station, and I help with investigations. It’s obvious you’re interested in this guy. Nate was trying to get a close look at him. I assume you’re trying to figure out who he is?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
I could only open my mouth in
surprise. I didn’t know what to say.
“Look, you don’t have to tell me who you think he is, but if you really want answers, this is the way to get them. I’ll try to keep the results quiet. Unless he’s a famous fugitive. Or Jimmy Hoffa. Then the police will be all over him. But I’ll give you a heads-up before that happens. Will that work for you?”
I nodded, unable to find the words to thank him. This was the answer to my dilemma. As long as Zac was telling the truth, I’d finally be able to prove whether or not this man was Terrance Chase. And if the results turned out the way I suspected they would, my days of writing obituaries would be over.
Zac jabbed his index finger at me. “Just promise me you’re not a hit man tracking down your next victim.”
I snorted. “You have my word. I’m not a hit man.”
“That’s all I need to know. You can keep your secret. I’m not interested in exposing it—or you.”
With that, he turned his attention to Wynter. She looked at us strangely for a moment but then appeared to dismiss our brief exchange and joined back into the conversation about the mine outside of town.
“I did some research about it,” she said. “It was originally dug in the 1850s. It produced a decent amount of coal, but it was abandoned in the 1970s.”
“I remember that,” Esther said. “It was called the Gabriel Mine. When it closed, many people moved out of Sanctuary. We worried the town would die, but eventually we grew again. Not as large as we used to be but enough to support those who want to live here.”
“I can’t believe that mine’s been sitting there all these years,” Reuben said. “It’s unsafe. Dangerous. We’ve had several close calls. Many of the tunnels have already collapsed. Thankfully, it will be filled this week. I’m told we won’t even be able to tell a mine used to be there.”
Esther nodded. “I know Sarah and Cicely will be happy when the mine no longer exists.”
This was the second time I’d heard someone make that comment. I wanted to know what Esther meant but decided to wait until later to ask her about it.
Maxie brought our drinks and took our orders. I kept my eye on Martin. When he got up to leave, I excused myself. As he made his way to the front register, I went to his table, quickly dumped the remaining water in his glass into a bowl, touching only the bottom of the glass, and then put the glass in my purse. When I reached the bathroom, I looked back to see if anyone had noticed me, but no one appeared to be interested in my actions. After I closed the door, I removed the glass from my purse with a paper towel, careful not to smear the fingerprints, then I slid it into one of the plastic bags I kept in my purse for leftovers. Since I’d started writing restaurant reviews for the paper, I’d begun carrying the bags since I didn’t usually eat a complete dinner. Although I could ask for a carryout box from most restaurants, some of the so-called gourmet places frowned on it. On my salary, I couldn’t afford to leave food behind, so the bags came in handy. I could slip leftovers into my purse without being obvious. Right now, I was really grateful for that part of my job. The bag was the perfect way to protect the prints that could confirm Martin Hatcher was actually Terrance Chase.
