28
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY SET
Buck and Jeff channeled all energy into their covert operation. They set a deadline to come up with her license. Over three weeks, they monitored Susannah’s regular placement of her handbag in Ray’s office, always on a chair in the corner out of view. They memorized the building’s layout in case they required an escape route or hiding place. Ray’s office was almost never locked, but to be sure, Jeff and Buck checked and rechecked the door. Neither knew how to pick a lock, so if somebody decided a locked door was warranted, they were screwed.
And then the plan unfolded. As Jeff filmed Ray ending the show in prayer, he realized tonight was going to be tricky, and everything had to fall exactly as it had over the previous few weeks. Through the camera’s lens, Ray finished the prayer of deliverance, and after a fifteen-second pause, Jeff yelled, “That’s a wrap!”
Now that Buck had phone duty, Jeff had taken on the added responsibilities of stage director. Immediately, Ray and Susannah headed toward the entrance, shaking hands and chatting with parishioners.
Buck would come up front and make sure Ray and Susannah kept their attention on the members. If everyone said their good-byes sooner than expected, Buck was charged with distracting them a bit longer. Buck was a talker, and he could gab endlessly about the merits of getting more employees answering donation requests.
Nearly twenty minutes passed with no sign of Buck. Jeff saw the visitors’ line getting shorter; there were perhaps a dozen remaining. He suspected Buck was still taking donations. Adrenaline pumping, Jeff realized he would need to copy Susannah’s license himself. After he passed by the stage, he would no longer have visual contact and would be flying blind.
He walked purposefully toward the office, glancing over his shoulder and assessing Ray and Susannah’s involvement in conversation. Maybe five minutes tops, he thought. At the office door, he turned the knob, pushing to open it. The door didn’t budge, and for a moment, panic crept up his spine. Was it locked? Shit.
Jeff could still hear Ray and Susannah talking with members of the congregation as he gave the door a hard shove with his broad shoulders. The stuck door loosened, and he quickly entered Ray’s darkened office. He debated turning the lights on—how much time could he afford to waste looking for her bag in the inky blackness? He switched the fluorescent lights on and found her leather shoulder bag in the corner. He stopped to listen—chatter was still coming from near the exit.
Opening her purse, he retrieved Susannah’s wallet and immediately found what he was looking for. Removing the Missouri driver’s license from behind the translucent plastic, Jeff sprinted to the copy room next door. The copier was warmed up, turned on beforehand. He placed her license on the glass and pushed start, the mechanism photocopying the document flashing beneath the cover.
The copy complete, he folded the paper neatly and placed it in his back pocket. Rushing back to the office, Jeff could hear two or three distant voices. He didn’t recall his nerves being this shaky in Iraq. His fingers seemed fat and oversized as he struggled to return the license to its proper place and replace Susannah’s wallet.
He never heard the footsteps. “Jeff, what are you doing in here? And with Susannah’s bag?” Ray’s voice was stern, edging toward accusatory.
Jeff spun around, making up the lie as he spoke. “I thought I left my keys in here and came to look for them. I found them on the floor—they must’ve fell outta my pocket—and I knocked Susannah’s purse off the chair when I knelt to grab ’em. I spilled her stuff all over and just finished putting it all back. Totally my fault, Ray. I apologize.”
From around the corner, Buck appeared slightly out of breath. “We need more staff answering the phone. We had over a hundred fifty calls tonight, and those are the ones I managed to get answered. There were probably others, but there’s no way I can continue to be the only person on the phone and monitoring conversations. I need help.”
Buck’s plea diverted Ray’s attention from Jeff to the matter of money and staff.
“Over a hundred fifty calls? That’s great, Buck! Any idea how much money we brought in?”
It was a risk, but Jeff would have to take it. Buck and Ray stood in the doorway blocking his exit, and the only way out was to brush past them as if nothing had happened. Like bein’ in enemy territory, he thought to himself and slipped past the men engrossed in deep conversation.
Ray’s attention was captivated by the numbers. “The good Lord blesses us indeed.”
“Here’s another thing. We need phones answered during the rebroadcasts, and not by an answering service. Staff needs to be working the phones, the same as during the live broadcasts.”
Buck had positioned his body between Ray and Jeff, giving his friend the opportunity to slip into the shadows, away from further questions.
Jeff was safely in the hallway, their conversation fading. As he walked away, he heaved a huge sigh of relief at his quick thinking and went on as if nothing had happened.
Minutes later, Jeff was completing his shutdown of all studio equipment when Susannah stopped him. “Have you seen Ray?”
He was calm and polite. “He and Buck were discussin’ gettin’ extra help with the phones in Ray’s office, where I left ’em. There were lots of calls, which is good, but Buck can’t handle ’em all.” He grinned at her. “I’ve turned everything off and need to get goin’. Would you tell Ray I had to go, and I’ll see you all next week?”
“I’ll tell him, Jeff,” she said, clearly excited. “Can’t wait to hear about all these phone calls. Have a good week.”
“You too,” Jeff said, not meaning it at all.
He grabbed his coat, and as he left the building, he patted his back pocket to make sure the paper was still there. He didn’t dare take it out to look at it; he would do that at home. I gotta call Malachi. We need the help of police to figure this out, he thought and drove off into the winter’s night.
29
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY SET
Buck was regretting his appeal for assistance with callers. Ray had found Seth Benson and Cole Leon through his friend Doug Snyder, who helped recovering drug addicts turn their lives around, and Buck just hoped they could be trusted with money. His own recovery had taught him to be wary of tempting addicts with money that wasn’t theirs. However, he had proven to Ray and his full-time employer that he could handle it. Don’t be so damned judgmental, he berated himself. Give these guys a fair chance.
It was taking Jeff’s detective friend forever to come back with answers, but Buck realized this probably wasn’t a priority. He needed to focus his attention on training Cole and Seth. He hated that Ray was allowing Susannah to help. He couldn’t let her corrupt them by insisting they push would-be donors for larger amounts.
Susannah smiled brightly as she instructed their newest employees. “It’s imperative we treat our donors as family so they’ll feel good contributing again. Double-check the amount they want to contribute, but don’t be afraid to ask if they can’t give just a little more, to help us do God’s work. After you write out the receipt, move onto the next call as quickly as possible.”