Nathan looked up, thought of John Solomon’s grave. He thought of Tarretti again, of his father. Hayden. Too many threads blowing across his mind, not seeming to be related but somehow all feeling as if they should be.
Long past midnight, the questions still raced like gnats, landing just long enough to bite, then vanishing again. The lamp remained on as he slid into sleep, the book open on his lap.
He did not dream, save vague recollections of flashing images as his brain tried to sort things out while his body regenerated. When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining through the windows. He lay on top on the comforter, never having gotten under the sheets. What day was it? Wednesday. Perhaps he should stay here, not face the day. It seemed a good idea. He’d overslept anyway. The clock read nine thirty-four. He must have appointments for the day, but stay in bed, he told himself. Maybe it would all go away on its own.
A muffled shrill broke the reverie. The cell phone, still in his pants pocket. He considered ignoring it, but knew he could not. He was pastor now. He was responsible. The thought gave him enough motivation to reach down and fish the phone out before the caller disconnected.
“Hello,” he said, staring at the ceiling and realizing too late that he should have answered with “Pastor Dinneck.” The salutation hadn’t become routine enough yet.
“Well, good morning,” a familiar voice said. “Sounds like you just woke up.”
“Elizabeth.” Hearing her voice, saying her name, washed everything away, cleared his mind. It was a temporary reprieve, but he relished the feeling and sat up on the bed. “Sorry, yeah. I forgot to set the alarm. I was up late reading.”
A small laugh. “Must be a good book.”
Nathan smiled. “The best.”
“Oh, that one.” Her voice lost none of the mirth, however. “Well, I won’t keep you. You probably haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.”
“Nope.”
“I’d forgotten I was off yesterday, so I didn’t see you at the nursing home. We never made a date.”
Thank you, he thought, for Elizabeth at least. Whatever else is happening, she is my oasis.
“Right,” he said, and walked from the bedroom. “Hang on a second, I’ve got to go downstairs to check the calendar.” Down the steps like a child on Christmas morning, he turned into the den and opened his desk calendar. “OK, let’s see. Tonight’s no good, as we’ve got Bible study. Care to join us?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t think so,” he said. “I’d say maybe after that, but I have a feeling I’ll be a bit pooped. Should get to bed early to make up for last night.”
“Everything OK?”
“Actually, no.” He told her about Hayden.
“That’s pretty bizarre.”
“You’re not kidding. Let’s pick a night, and I might even tell you some more bizarre things.”
“Deal,” she said. “Tomorrow night, then? I’m off Friday, so I wouldn’t have to turn in too early.”
“Thursday sounds good.”
“Great. I’ve got to go; break’s over.”
“Say hi to Mrs. Conan for me. Listen, could you, you know, discreetly ask around today, see if anyone’s heard from Reverend Hayden?”
She said she would. They picked a time to meet and Nathan disconnected. Her call was a Godsend, perhaps literally. He checked his calendar for today. He had less than forty-five minutes before he had to drive to the city and make his rounds at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center, then downtown to Saint Vincent’s. He’d make a few calls about Hayden first, then rush through a shower. It would be a full day. There didn’t look to be a break to make it back to Hillcrest until the late afternoon.
Even with everything else going on, Elizabeth’s earlier idea of checking out the Hillcrest Men’s Club still felt like a good one.
Any answers he might garner from a visit would have to wait until tomorrow. He had inked in breakfast at his mother’s house for Thursday morning, hoping to make it a weekly routine. Maybe she could give him some ammunition before he drove across town to confront whatever waited for him behind the club’s front door.
Plans made, he opened the phone directory and looked up Mrs. Lewis’ number. He didn’t have the time to dwell on any more mysteries today. Tomorrow he could dredge it all up again.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Bible study Wednesday night was more crowded than had been usual under the tutelage of Reverend Hayden. Along with Nathan, fifty-six people sat in double circles of folding chairs in the middle of the room. Against one wall stood a long table covered in a white cloth and adorned with plates of cookies and a chocolate cake. Someone had brought two-liter bottles of Sprite and Diet Coke. Mrs. Zawalich had come in earlier to set up the church’s large coffee urn. It gurgled and belched as it slowly drained of steaming coffee. Decaf, however. It never failed to amaze Nathan how the majority of evening meetings provided no decaffeinated drinks. People likely spent hours lying awake in bed afterwards, waiting for the shock of caffeine to leave their systems.
Word had spread of the former pastor’s disappearance, thanks to the few calls made by Nathan that morning. He’d decided to make use of the parish’s prayer chain to spread word to everyone. It carried the news across town, bringing parishioners to the church’s basement. Some had come only to check on the status of the search, of which there had been no further word. Others came to pray for his safety and well-being. Nathan was grateful to see them all. It was important to maintain consistency by not canceling the study tonight. Not enough people looked to God’s word for guidance, relying too much instead on sermons. A preacher may be a good speaker, even dynamic and charismatic, but in the end, all he or she did was to present the Word from one person’s perspective. It was all within these pages, as long you looked and listened to the messages they offered.
Like last night. Whether what he’d read about Solomon or his wives had anything to do with his private mystery in town, he did not know. He’d find out when he needed to.
This was the first study that Nathan would lead. He decided to do a little research. It didn’t feel quite like manipulating the study for personal reasons. Using the passage provided to him last night, he hoped for insight from the congregation. He chose the same passage from Kings, and talk moved invariably to those of faith who so often stray from their worship of God, to idols and other “gods” which most in the group agreed were demons of great seductive power.
After talk had progressed a few minutes, Nathan asked if anyone had heard of Chemosh or Molech. He wished the day hadn’t been so busy, for he would have liked to have done some detailed research ahead of time. A teenaged girl he recognized as one of the more active in the youth ministry, Jaylene he thought her name was, raised her hand.
“I did a report once on Old Testament deities—the darker ones, I mean. Chemosh doesn’t ring a bell, but that other guy does... guy, or thing, whatever,” she said, shrugging. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one the Ammonites sacrificed their first born children to.” A few murmurs of disgust, mostly from the younger members. She added, “He’s one of the oldest, too. Even got a mention in the Laws of Moses. Somewhere in Deuteronomy, or maybe Leviticus. I get those two mixed up a lot.”
Seeing the interest her answer received from the group, Jaylene continued. “They actually burned them. Tossed them inside the mouth of a statue that was on fire, or something like that. Pretty gross!”
More murmurs all around. Nathan forced his dry throat to swallow. During the discussion he had begun to suspect some association with what he’d seen and felt in his earlier nightmares, but hearing it spoken still sent a chill through him. Rather than help to clarify anything, her answer only served up more questions. He wanted to press, but others had begun a thread regarding human sacrifice within the Old Testament, citing the common story of Abraham bringing his son to the mountain for a sacrifice to God. A blind following of God’s will for no other reason than that He said to follow.