Like Sheep Gone Astray (14 page)

“Whoever it was asked that all of the five hundred thousand dollars be returned immediately. Only five hundred thousand out of two million! If that's all that they think I have, then who knows about the rest of the money? And for some reason, they want
you
to take the money to the garden courtyard facing the Quadrangle Towers. A briefcase will be waiting on the park bench in front of the fountain. You have thirty minutes to do it, or—or…” The councilman's voice faded into a faint whisper. “Gloria, Gloria.” He shook his head.

“I'm calling the police!” Anthony pulled out his cell phone.

Walter quickly grabbed his wrist. “No, no! I don't want anything happening to Gloria.” He looked despairingly at the stacks of bills remaining in the satchel. “Let's go do what they asked and call the police when all three of us get back. I don't want this much money in my possession anyway. Here's a way to get rid of some of it.” His eyes pleaded with Anthony's as a drop of sweat rolled down from his thinning hairline.

Anthony hesitated, his thumb resting on the nine highlighted on the tiny keypad.

“Look, I'll go with you, and if anything looks fishy—anything at all—I'll call the police myself. Please, Anthony, for Gloria's sake! Plus, I don't want all of this money in my hands.” The councilman's low voice competed with the loud steam hissing from a nearby radiator.

“Why do I have to do this?”

“I don't know, Anthony, but that's what they asked, and I can't call back to get answers. Please do it. I don't want anything happening to Gloria.” The councilman rocked from foot to foot. “Let's do this to make sure Gloria's okay and then we can call the police together, if necessary. This is not the kind of story I need on the eleven-o'clock news,” he begged.

Anthony looked back down at his cell phone. Several months old, it was outdated already, a rarity for him. He'd worked so hard to gain himself a cutting-edge image—expensive attire and accessories, high-tech toys and technology—but the decision he made six months ago had chunked slowly away at the image he so prized.
An old broke country preacher.
Maybe Terri was right, he surmised. He had spent the past few months creeping through shadows, trying to avoid the spotlight. Working for a low-key firm. Accepting a paycheck he would not have taken as an intern.

Maybe giving back this five hundred thousand was a way out, he convinced himself. No police, no press. A way out. It would be nice to quietly rid himself of the guilt so he could resume a real career with real money and not have to worry about watching his back. Or the councilman's, and now Gloria's. What had he gotten himself into? Maybe this was a way out.
Lord, You said You like decency and order. Well, this might be a decent way to get my life back in order.
He grumbled to himself as he reached for the cloth satchel Councilman Banks extended toward him. In silence, they headed for the office door.

“We need to hurry.” The councilman checked his watch. “We only have twenty-four minutes left.”

Terri sighed heavily as the congregants sang the chorus about holding on to God's hands for the fifth time. She slowly surveyed the sanctuary, inwardly rolling her eyes at the feverish hand-clapping, joyous shouts and feet tapping on the solid wooden floor. There was still no sign of Anthony, which surprised Terri. He was a regular attendee of Wednesday night Bible study and prayer service.

She turned her gaze to the back of the church, wondering where Pastor Green was. She had hoped to catch him before the service started so she could give him the letter and leave. Pastor Green was taking too long to appear, and the devotional part of the service was almost over. To get up and leave now would at best look rude.

At least her new Lexus was parked in Anthony's reserved space right next to the steps leading to the front entrance. The thought excited her. Terri had made sure that everyone who attended the Wednesday evening Bible study would not miss the cherry-red convertible as they entered, but now the steady stream of arriving parishioners seemed to be slowing. Everyone was already there and had seen her latest “blessing,” Terri reasoned as she shifted impatiently in the wooden pew. She listened halfheartedly as the testifying began.

“Givin' honor to God, and my good pastor, and all y'all saints assembled here.” Mother Howard began her weekly speech. Terri swatted at a fly as she studied the older woman leaning against a pew, her knobby fingers curled against the wood grain that was the same color as her weathered skin.

“God's been good to me, church!” she shouted. Her thin body almost buckled under the strength of her voice. “He woke me up this morning in my right mind and started me on my way! He put shoes on my feet, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head! I've got to praise Him tonight, saints, ^^cause I don't know if this will be my last chance!”

“Amen!” Sister Ethel shouted from her customary front-row seat.

“And I want y'all to help me sing one of them old songs. Hit that drum, boy, to help me keep the beat. My feet can't tap like they used to.” Mother Howard motioned the young drummer toward his little black stool. As his sticks hit the snare and his foot pounded the bass, her rich soprano voice swam out over the sanctuary like a fountain of fresh water.

“Jesus is all the world to me.…”

Terri sat mesmerized for a moment, amazed at the vital fullness that overtook the older lady's frail frame. As the pianist found the key and the other congregants joined the refrain, Terri watched in respectful awe as Mother Howard stood taller, her wrinkled hands extended upward, her eyes transfixed on the ceiling as if she were looking past the beamed rooftop and had secret viewing access into the inner courtyards of heaven.

A golden ray from the setting sun peeked through a nearby stained-glass window. Hints of pinks, purples, and blues from the painted shepherd on the windowpane filtered through the glass and bathed Mother Howard in their fragile light. She looked ageless in the warm glow as an aura of peace settled gently around her, as gentle as the flittering dust particles exposed by the light around her floating through the air.

“My life, my joy, my all
…” The richly sung words took on a life of their own, becoming touchable, delicate material of substance and shape.

Terri watched as the jubilance of Mother Howard radiated into the surrounding pews and spilled into each aisle. The shouts, the tears, the Amens of the other congregants seemed to blend in with hers, becoming one voice of wonder, one song of praise. It was as if some secret society of unspeakable pleasures had convened and everyone who knew the password was joining in the ceremony.

A quiet hush rushed into the small sanctuary. Terri studied the smiling, solemn faces, closed eyes, whispering lips, waving hands, and began to feel like a spectator in a back-row bleacher. She could not ignore the fingers of jealousy that ruffled through her conscience and tapped forcefully somewhere in the core of her being as she watched the worshippers seem to snuggle under an invisible blanket of peace. It was a jealousy that poked deeply into an inner place of unutterable longings and desires, and left a far greater imprint than the envy she had felt when she'd seen Reggie's Jaguar.

Terri listened and watched a few seconds longer before the jealousy formed a chokehold around her neck and she felt as though she would be strangled under its tightening grip. She jumped out of her seat and headed for the red-carpeted staircase that led to the basement. A cool sip of water from the rusting water fountain outside the pastor's study would provide some relief, she decided.

As Terri exited the sanctuary, she noticed Sister Kellye Porter, the assistant minister's wife, nodding at her from the back row, her usual grin stretched even wider over her tear-streaked face.

Seated beside her was the assistant minister himself, Bernard Porter, making an unusual appearance from his sickbed. He had not been at the church in months, the ravages of cancer attacking and weakening his once sturdy body. He sat motionless in the pew, his ashen skin loosely covering his wearied frame. As Terri pushed open the foyer door, she noticed him staring at her, a gray cloud blotting the life from his eyes.

“These darn country people and their old-time religion,” she mumbled to herself as she let the door swing behind her. “What could they possibly have for me to envy? I'm not sick and I'm not some old, singing, poor woman.” She thought about Kellye's ever-constant smiling face and Mother Howard's stirring song as she ran her fingers over the cold metal key to her new Lexus. “I'm the one with the real blessings. I know I've got much more than any of these people will ever dream of having.”

Terri walked quickly to the water fountain. As she let the cool stream of water coat her insides, the door to the pastor's study suddenly crashed open, hitting the back of Terri's foot.

“Oops.” A woman with a wavy blond hair weave that hung past her shoulders stood facing Terri. She was wearing a plain brown coatdress that clung to her round hips. The high neckline of the dress struggled to contain her large bosom, which showcased a heavy, diamond-studded golden crucifix. A thick, leather-bound Bible protruded from between her brightly painted fingernails.

“Praise the Lord, sister.” The stranger's words brimmed with sarcasm. “Sorry about the door. I couldn't wait to go upstairs to hear a word from the Lord, but I didn't realize that you would be in my way. And you still are.”

“Excuse me?” Terri was taken aback by the bold, caustic tone. As she looked fiercely into the squinty eyes of the woman, Pastor Green and a tall, lanky man, the color of cinnamon, emerged from the study.

“Sister Murdock!” Pastor Green exclaimed. “I'm glad to see you here tonight. I've been thinking about you and Anthony. How is everything?”

“Everything is wonderful, thank you. The Lord has been busy blessing us. Anthony's not here yet, but I think he wanted to give this to you.” Terri pressed the letter into his palm.

Pastor Green stared at his name written across the front in Anthony's familiar block print.

“Terri…”He spoke her name softly, but Terri was oblivious to his questioning gaze. Her eyes had never left the woman standing behind him and the other man. The two women glared at each other, a dark challenge underlying the plastic smiles.

“Were you planning to stay for service?” Pastor Green seemed unaware of the building tension sandwiching him. “Brother Eric Johnson and Sister Nikki Galloway from CASH will be talking about the revised plans for Bethany Village. You've heard of Bethany Village, right?”

Pastor Green searched Terri's unresponsive face as concern deepened on his own. “Anthony's never mentioned Bethany Village to you?”

“It sounds vaguely familiar. Isn't it some program to help those who are in need of some
serious
help?” She was speaking directly to Nikki, her eyes piercing through the curvaceous fake blond's violet-colored contact lenses. Nikki placed one hand on her hip as her fuchsia-colored, heavily lined lips turned into an unmistakable snarl.

“Something like that.” Eric chuckled.

“We're here to do the work of Jesus,” Nikki piped in, her face suddenly softening into an angelic expression.

“I would love to hear more about CASH and Bethany Village,” Terri spoke decisively and sweetly. She was not about to let some church-queen wanna-be outdo her in front of her own pastor. Especially not this clueless thing. Nikki rolled her eyes at the jab.

“Well, let's go upstairs and join the service.” Pastor Green, still oblivious to the unspoken squabble, looked troubled despite his warm smile. “It sounds like they're having a time up there,” he observed, referring to the stomping and clapping that seemed to be shaking the entire rickety church. The metal folding chairs in the basement hall rattled under the holy quake.

Nikki quickly stepped past Terri, grazing her elbow in the process. “Hallelujah!” she shouted with fire. “Let's go praise the Lord!”

Before Terri could respond in kind, she caught Eric Johnson looking at her. She wondered how much of the undeclared war he had witnessed. With the grace of a debutante queen, she ascended the steps behind Nikki, shouting “Amen, sister!”

As the two men followed the ladies to the sanctuary, Pastor Green could no longer bottle his concern.

“I wonder what Anthony is up to?” he asked aloud, giving one last look at the envelope in his hands before entering the praise-filled service.

Chapter 6

T
he sun was completing its daily setting ritual and the sky was streaked with its last few stubborn rays. Anthony patted the bulging lump under his coat and rechecked his watch. Councilman Banks, walking with Anthony the few blocks to the Quadrangle Towers, briskly rubbed his hands in the chill of the evening. They strolled together in silence, their heavy footsteps striking the littered cement in rhythmic unison and echoing through the emptying downtown streets.

It was hard to believe that a half hour earlier these same streets had been backed up with beeping and braking automobiles, buses, and taxicabs; hordes of pedestrians crowding the narrow crosswalks at every light change; and noisy street vendors and whistling traffic police adding to the grinding monotony of the now ending business day. Anthony looked up at a large clock ticking from one of the bank buildings. He had only fifteen minutes left to make the delivery.

As an unsettling wind stirred, Anthony clutched his overcoat tightly around his waist. Instinctively he realized that the occasional passersby knew nothing about the satchel of money hidden under his coat, but simply carrying the large sum of money—hundreds of thousands—made him feel vulnerable to the opportunistic eyes he imagined were waiting at every comer, at every alley, at every step.

He examined each person he passed with suspicion: the preoccupied attorney descending the courthouse stairs, the wiry Asian man with the clanging keys locking the metal gate in front of his corner carryout; even the grubby street-lady who never parked her soiled shopping cart caught Anthony's eyes and ears with her disjointed ramblings and warnings about Armageddon.

Anthony noticed that Walter Banks's eyes darted around even more than his own. He waved and nodded politely to passing constituents who recognized him, even stopping once to discuss with a middle-aged woman a new school gymnasium that was being added to a local high school.