“Reminds me of small towns all over America,” he said. “They all look different, but there’s a sameness to them. The people tend to be good people. Things are slower. Down there I see a barbershop with an old-fashioned barber’s pole outside. I see a candy store. Down the street, a hardware store. Joe’s Hardware. What a great name for a hardware store. I like an America this size.”
“There was a sex-and-torture dungeon in a house just a few blocks from here,” I said. “Chains and mattresses. Wall fasteners and hand tools. A couple set it up. The cops shut it down when a young woman died there.”
He turned. “Why do you bring that up? What is the point you’re trying to make?”
“That faces can hide secrets. For a while.”
“But why focus on the evil?”
“I like dogs and children,” I said.
“Meaning what?”
“I appreciate innocence, too.”
Pastor Atlas gave me a look that said I should be dunked as a suspected witch. Or maybe just locked in stocks right down there on Main Street, where the dogs and children I like so much could torment me.
“I’m tired of trying to hold up the whole of grim humanity,” he said.
“Then drop us. We might not need you.”
“Jesus hears every word you say.”
“Oh, he’s heard worse from me.”
Atlas sighed, looked out the window again.
“Mr. Ford, I’m tired of defending myself, my family, and my ministry from a troubled woman and her dangerous delusions. I need your help to put this all to an end.”
“Why start now?”
He put on his hat and gave the brim a rural tilt, then sat back down and pulled his chair closer.
“Start? I’ve tried before. This isn’t the first time Daley has run away. She ran away from home in Denver, Salt Lake City, and Reno, too. And in Eugene, Prescott, and other cities and towns. Now Oceanside. Every time she escapes, Penelope comes after me again. I’m not hard to find. She hires a PI or a lawyer or worse. Suggests without evidence that I have kidnapped her sister. Or simply had her abducted. Or... sweet Lord, there’s no end to Satan’s imagination. To tales of me and my bus and the blood of Jesus mixed with drugs. As you know, firsthand. Did your version include the baptism from the silver bowl, or the robes sprinkled in holy water? One day, some well-meaning person will believe her, and my reputation will be functionally ruined. Thus I come to you.”
“When was the last time you saw Daley?”
“Late August. She brought a friend to the cathedral.”
“Just a few days ago, you didn’t remember seeing her.”
A brisk nod. “The mind investigates while the body sleeps.”
I was familiar with that phenomenon. “And before that?”
“Four years ago. When she was ten. It was the first time I’d actually laid eyes on her, outside of pictures sent to me by her sister. This was before I opened the cathedral. Penelope brought her to my event at a convocation in Las Vegas. They sat in the very back. I was terrified. It was the most difficult sermon I’ve ever given. I had no idea why Penelope was there. No idea what she might do.”
“What did she do?”
“Nothing, praise the Lord. They left before the service was over. I had trouble sleeping for weeks. So worried what Penelope might be planning. Inconsolable, even to my wife.”
“Did you communicate with Daley after that?”
Atlas held my stare for a long beat. Then smiled. “Yes. I answered an email. It arrived on my webpage not long after the Las Vegas show. She wanted to know if Jesus could love a girl who fell asleep almost every night before finishing the Lord’s Prayer.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Yes, I told her. Of course Jesus loves you. I think I suggested she say her prayer earlier. Such as after dinner, or maybe even first thing in the morning.”
“Did you ever tell her that you two were like ghosts flying through each other?”
Atlas frowned amiably, shaking his head with some good humor. “I’m sure I did not.”
“Did she write again?”
“Every few months.”
“And you wrote back?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
I shrugged.
“Mr. Ford, will you find Daley and arrange the test? You are my best hope.”
I thought about my decision, but not for long. “I’ll let you know when I locate Daley Rideout. Until then, you can keep your money and I’ll stay in the service of Penelope under the conditions set forth.”
He stood. “Quixote had a wooden lance. All you have is a wooden head.”
“It’s good hard wood.”
“It looks a little beat-up right now. Car wreck?”
I could have said something about Reggie’s connection to SNR Security, but I didn’t. No good reason to reveal what I knew. No reason to train a searchlight on myself.
“Call me immediately when you find Daley,” said Atlas. “Better yet, bring her straight to me. That paternity test is the right thing to do, and you know it is. No matter who’s signing your checks.”
At the door, he turned. “Has Penelope mentioned her husband, Richard?”
“Yes, she has.”
“She made him up. He never existed.”
“I came to the same conclusion.”
A beat as he studied me. Spun his hat in his hands. Then a small smile. “Have you been spending some extra time with Penelope?”
“Only what’s required, Pastor. Why do you ask?”
“I’m concerned for your soul.”
“Save it for the choir.”
“I’m willing to pray with you right now. I could use some strength. So could you.”
“Not necessary, thanks.”
“It is so much more than necessary. But I respect your decision.”
That smile again, boyish and conspiratorial. “Penelope is beautiful, isn’t she? So bright and open. So sexual. Always has been. And, boy, she knows it. She offered all that charm of hers to me, more than once. Threw it right at me. She was fourteen and I was thirty-five. I won’t deny that I was tempted. I prayed like a condemned man. Prayed, and prayed again. Jesus stepped forth and offered his hand to me. Now you know how I answered Penelope, and you see where it got me. Paul said it best. He said, ‘Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness... On account of these the wrath of God is coming.’”
“I hope He takes His time.”
“I’ll say a prayer for you.”
I watched him leave and then walk up Main Street. Tipped his hat to a mom walking a baby in a stroller. Got into a sleek Mercedes Sprinter painted in high-gloss copper and black, with “Four Wheels for Jesus” airbrushed in racing-yellow script along its flank.
I sat back down just in time to watch my sleeping computer monitor wake up.
Burt Short’s bold italic Times New Roman 14 font hit the screen in a drop-down:
LIVE AND URGENT FROM PARADISE FARMS
BURT
26
Dust rising in bright light and the strangeness of things happening without sound.
Clevenger’s motion-activated wasp-cam streamed beautiful video, startlingly clear. I recognized the bunkhouse with the modified freezers in the living room and the gloves and white hazmat suits hanging on the walls.
The front door had been propped open. Connor Donald and Eric Glassen crossed the porch and disappeared inside. A forklift pulled up to the front porch, Adam Revell in the cage, four wooden crates stacked two-on-two waiting on the forks. Flat-Top Woman with the gun on her hip stood talking to him, her mouth working silently.