And then the final victim was Melody Luther who had been taken right out of Fanny’s restaurant as her parents argued.
A teenager is helping kidnap the kids.
All we had to do was find the teen that was around in all of these moments. Shelly’s older brother was fifteen. Who was his friends? Did Emma’s sister invite anyone over to the house while she babysat? Was there someone that she told? A boyfriend or friend who could have somehow let it slip to others.
This changes everything.
I directed my view back to Pastor Miller. He had his hands in the air, yelling about souls. Many nodded their head with his words.
One woman jumped up. “Yes. Always! He’s always there.”
Pastor Miller’s voice rose. “During trials which seem meaningless to us at the time, God has a purpose!”
“Yes!” A woman yelled behind me.
“I don’t think you heard me.” Pastor Miller left the pulpit and wiped the sweat off his face with a hanky. “God has a purpose.”
“Yes. He does.” Mrs. Barron clapped. “Yes. He does.”
“You see?” Pastor Miller wiped his head again. “God provides in accordance to what we need.”
“That’s right,” A man said in the front.
Pastor Miller smiled at him. “God is not always going to give you what you want.”
“No, sir,” Mrs. Barron clapped.
“But God will provide!” Pastor Miller walked forward to the center of the aisle. “God will give us what we need.”
I scanned some of the pews, checking the teenagers’ faces.
“God wants us to trust Him for our Daily Bread.” Pastor Miller took a few steps down the aisle. “I don’t think any of you hear me in the back.”
A woman yelled, “We hear you pastor!”
“Some of us in here woke up complaining this morning.” Pastor Miller shook his head. “Some of you all opened your eyes and complained that it was too cold or too warm. You opened your eyes and was mad at the person you slept next to. Some of us in here woke, upset with your children. Somebody woke up, tired of their body. They want to be skinnier. Or they don’t like the way their face look.”
“Speak to them, Pastor.”
“You look in the mirror and you don’t like what you see?” Pastor Miller frowned at the congregation. “You don’t look young enough? You don’t like pretty enough?”
“Speak.”
“You’re mad at the gray hairs on your head and the fat on your belly.”
“Lord.”
“You go into your bank account and you’re not happy with the numbers. Don’t have enough zeros.”
“Yes, Pastor.”
“Don’t have enough commas.” Pastor Miller walked down the aisle. “You want more to buy, but don’t have the dollars to do it.”
“It’s not right!” someone yelled.
“In all their doings, the most glaring sin of the Israelites was the sin of ingratitude.” Pastor Miller scowled. “Their attitude was one of ungratefulness and thanklessness. Are you Israelites?”
I stopped my view at the pews in front of me.
A teenage boy sat in the front. He wore a black suit with a gray tie. I would not have truly noticed him, if he hadn’t been nervously glancing behind and looking my way.
Is that you?
Pastor Miller moved down the aisle. “Instead of continuing to praise God for His deliverance from Egypt, instead of worshiping Him and acknowledging His continued presence with them, all they could do was murmur and complain that He had not done enough.”
“Yes. Lord.”
The boy didn’t look back anymore as if he could feel me watching him. Meanwhile, everyone else in the front pew had turned in Pastor Miller’s direction.
Haven leaned my way. “Who are you looking at?”
“The boy in the front row. Black suit. Gray tie.”
“That’s Vernon Miller.”
Shocked, I asked, “The Pastor’s son?”
“Grandson.” Haven held a sad smile. “Pastor Miller has three daughters. Two are married and live in town. One is a doctor. The other is a principal at the elementary school. And then there’s Vernon’s mother—Julia.”
“What does she do?”
“Pastor Miller took Vernon away from his daughter when he was ten. People said she was on drugs and had neglected her kids.”
“Where is she now?”
“No one really knows, but some say she comes out on Main Street late at night and gives blow jobs for twenty dollars.”
“Shh.” Mrs. Barron scowled at us. “Really, Haven? Why would you be talking about blow jobs right now?”
Nodding, I leaned forward. “Sorry. That was your daughter. I’m trying to keep quiet and listen to the sermon.”
“I understand.” Mrs. Barron smiled at me. “She’s a naughty girl.”
Haven grinned my way. “Really? You’re telling on me?”
“Haven.” Mrs. Barron tapped her daughter’s leg. “You know better.”
Chuckling to myself, I looked back at Vernon Miller.
But he was gone.
Goddamn it. Where did he go?
Chapter 22
Junior Psycho
Haven
Signaling the end of service, the Junior choir came up to the front to sing three songs. They didn’t have robes like the main choir. The girls wore blue dresses. The boys had on blue ties.
Through a typical service, the choir kids sat in the first pew on the far right. The whole time they fidgeted, played amongst themselves and whispered throughout the service. It caused the old folks in the congregation to screw their eyes and scowl at them.
However, once those cutie pies stood and sang, all transgressions were forgiven. Their voices were as welcome as cool rain on a hot summer day. And it wasn’t just those adorable little faces or the merriness within their tone. The Junior choir reminded the old of the innocence of youth, soothing their spirits and stirring sweet memories. They symbolized hope to us all—that the future generation was not so bad off. There were good ones—leaders, spiritual singers, and lovers of the Lord.
I thought about my time on the Junior Choir. My group had been a mess to get in line. Mrs. Tilly would have to bribe us with chocolate chip cookies to keep us quiet during practice. And on Sundays, she brought a red velvet cake to the church. Everyone who listened and sung their notes just right was guaranteed a slice of the best red velvet cake in the State of Georgia. Due to that, we didn’t play around. We sang our little hearts out.
Today, the Junior Choir began with a cheerful tune. Everyone joined in jubilant excitement. I stood but did not feel the spirit moving within me, just horror.
Alexander had left to search for Vernon Miller. The teenager had slipped away, clearly spooked.
Dear God, please don’t let it be Vernon. That would ruin the church. It would destroy the whole community.
Vernon’s mother was Julia. I never knew why she turned out the way she did.
People whispered that she might’ve been molested by Mrs. Miller’s brother. I remembered a period of time when the uncle had begun coming to church. He’d been living with the Millers for a few months. My father would gossip about the uncle during dinner, claiming that he was nothing but a criminal and sexual predator. My father argued that he shouldn’t be allowed to go to the church. At the time, I didn’t know what a sexual predator was. But I remembered that Mom thought that the uncle should be given a second chance.