Chapter One
Charlotte, North Carolina, 2013
Lenora Freeman peeked out from under her wide brim black hat and studied her husband’s face. Pastor Jonathan Freeman’s handsome face was not as strained as it was earlier. Many members of the congregation had come up to her commenting on how eloquently the pastor delivered the eulogy. Jonathan’s voice had flowed out over the congregation in a graver tone compared to his usual Sunday banter, but his baritone voice was strong and filled with constrained emotion.
When she heard the skip in his voice, she held her body stiff until Jonathan composed himself. Then she pulled a tissue from her purse to blot the tears that had leaked from her eyes. Lenora had focused on her husband’s grief so much these past few days, it hadn’t occurred to her how devastating this loss was for her too.
She shifted her eyes to the portrait of the longtime pastor of Victory Gospel Church, Jeremiah Freeman. Usually the portrait hung on the wall outside the pastor’s office, but today, it sat on an easel. Members of the church and the nearby community came out in large numbers to the funeral and the cemetery. Now crowds of people gathered in the Victory Gospel Center to fellowship and support the Freeman family.
While Jonathan had served as interim pastor of Victory Gospel for almost two years now, there was still pain in knowing Pastor Jeremiah would no longer preach another sermon or grace their presence. She knew how much Jonathan loved his father, and stepping into the spotlight to take over this massive church had not come without sacrifice.
She would certainly miss “Papa” Jeremiah. He was so much more to her than a father-in-law; more like the father she never had. He loved and accepted her. She almost wished it wasn’t him in that casket today.
Lenora quickly asked the Lord for forgiveness. She glanced across the center’s fellowship hall to where Eliza Freeman sat surrounded by other mothers of the church. After twenty years of marriage to Jonathan, Lenora had since given up on a relationship with her mother-in-law. No woman would have been good enough for Eliza’s only child. When Pastor Jeremiah was alive, his quiet charm would soothe Eliza’s sharp tongue. Lenora smiled, remembering that look he would give his wife when he was ready for her to stop talking.
She sighed. Maybe grief would soften the old woman. Lenora peeked over at Eliza again, observing how her black hat fit with a black veil covering her eyes. She knew her mother-in-law was truly grieving, but she couldn’t help but think how much Eliza enjoyed the attention. Lenora may have been officially the first lady of Victory Gospel, but she knew Eliza flourished as the center of attention and was not too eager to retire from the role she held almost twenty-five years.
Lenora turned away and found her husband’s eyes on her. She smiled at him, but he didn’t return the smile. His eyes were slightly glazed over from grief and exhaustion. She had left his side to look for their sons, Keith and Michael, who both seemed to have gone missing in action after they returned from the cemetery. Of course, in the midst of her looking, she was stopped by many church members and funeral attendees.
She never did find either of her sons. The boys, now almost grown men, would be dealt with later. Lenora moved through the crowd to return to Jonathan. As she glided through the crowd, smiling and greeting people, two young children bumped into her. The children’s mother touched Lenora’s arm. “Mrs. Freeman, I’m so sorry.”
Lenora waved her away. “It’s okay. Let the children be children.”
As Lenora continued walking toward her husband, she stopped and turned as if someone was calling her. No one had called her name, but she felt as if someone was trying to get her attention. She looked around and as if time had stopped, her eyes focused on a man. He was looking in her direction.
Lenora sensed people passing her. She smiled absently at the passersby as a memory clung to the edges of her mind. Where had she seen this man before?
Pastor Jeremiah’s funeral brought a diverse crowd from all walks of life, but she couldn’t figure out if the man was biracial or a tanned white man. He was average height, with a very low buzz cut, and he had no facial hair. Lenora had to be about twenty feet from him, but she was struck by his pale, intense eyes.
Lenora’s breathing turned shallow. One thing she hated more than anything in the world was to sweat. She felt beads of sweat above her lip and around the edge of her hat. Lenora pressed her French-manicured fingernails into her hands as a wave of nausea swept over her. She broke her stare and looked away. A memory from long ago flashed in her mind, but she couldn’t grasp the image.
Where had she seen him before?
Lenora’s mind went to focus on the man, but he was no longer there. She looked to the right, and then to the left to see where he had gone. Her eyes found the strange man as he slipped out of the Victory Gospel Center’s side entrance leading into the parking lot.
Forgetting that she was supposed to be returning to Jonathan’s side, Lenora stepped around a group of ladies and headed toward the exit where the man had left. She didn’t know why she was compelled to follow the stranger, but her gut was churning with nervousness. She just had to know his identity.
Lenora pushed the side entrance door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She looked to the left, and then to the right. Where did he go? The sun was making its descent for the day. She held her hands above her eyes to squint into the massive parking lot. There were people standing around, but she couldn’t tell if any of them were him.
Nobody can just disappear into thin air.
Lenora jumped out of the way as the side door was opened by some teenagers. She noticed one of the teens was her youngest son, Michael. Before she could call out her son’s name, something buzzed against her side. Lenora opened the black clutch pocketbook she had strapped around her shoulder and pulled out her phone. Someone was texting her, but she didn’t recognize the phone number.
The message that displayed on the phone’s screen made her already upset stomach churn again. She clutched the top of her shirt in her fist as she reread the message.
For the wages of sin is death.
A wave of fear swept over Lenora. Who sent this message to her? Is this some kind of joke?
She searched the parking lot again for the man. Why did she think he was responsible for sending the text? He had been staring at her like he could see right through her. While she was trying to figure out the man’s identity, she wondered why he chose to make such a hasty exit.
Grief and exhaustion from the past few days were probably influencing her thoughts. She looked down at the phone again. The message was real. She definitely was not losing her mind.
“Mom, are you okay?”
Michael had walked over to her and touched her shoulder. Lenora looked at her son, and then his friends, who were peering at her with curiosity. She looked down and unclenched her fist. Goodness, she didn’t realize she had been clutching her shirt over her heart, bringing attention to herself. She felt ashamed of how she must have appeared to her son’s friends.
She grabbed Michael’s hand and in a quiet voice she responded, “I’m fine, honey. Why don’t you check on your father? Tell your friends you will see them tomorrow.”
The concern in her usually quiet-mannered son’s eyes shook her, but she straightened her shoulders and smiled. “I’m okay. Really.”
She watched Michael walk over to his friends. They all shuffled one after the other through the Victory Gospel Center’s side door.
Lenora looked out over the parking lot before looking down at the message again. She prayed this was someone’s crazy idea of a prank. Why today as she grieved her father-in-law’s home going would someone send her a message that more grief was to come?
No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper.