Cole Leon opened another envelope, looking for a prayer request or donation. Instead all he found was a letter—a very angry letter. He scanned the contents briefly before calling Seth over.
“Hey, Seth, look at this,” he said and scooted his chair closer, so both men could read the missive.
“‘To Whatever the Hell Your Name Is: My name is Michelle Thomas and I’m putting your program, The Road to Calvary on notice that I have filed a complaint with the Missouri Attorney General’s Office, regarding the fraudulent practices of your organization. For the past year, my roommate, Jeanette Morelli, has given nearly every penny she makes to your program, believing your outrageous claims that healing and prosperity will come to those who believe.’”
Cole paused. “I’ve never seen a letter like this before.”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to,” Seth whispered. He read on in low tones. “‘Belief in such nonsense has caused her to be unable to pay rent, help buy groceries, or get her car fixed. I’m not a heartless woman, so instead of kicking Jeanette out, I’m letting her stay. However, I’m using her as an example of how your program, Reverend, along with that cunning wife of yours, prey on the vulnerable. You give people false hope, and I won’t rest until the world knows the truth about you and your program.’”
Cole folded the letter, holding it in his hand ready to speak, but an anxious Seth cut him off. “What are we supposed to do with this?”
Still holding the letter, Cole glanced around the empty mail-room. Satisfied they were alone, he lowered his voice further. “I’m not convinced Ray is at fault here; in fact, he may not even know what’s going on.” He ran a hand over his thinning brown hair. “There’s something I should tell you. I’m picking up extra shifts for more money. I want outta the halfway house.” Cole stopped and pulled his thoughts back on track. “I started noticing late at night Susannah going through the prayer requests being sent to Ray. It started right after they were married. She was here every night I worked. One night, after she’d gone, I went through the requests again, and a third of them were gone. Anything Susannah doesn’t want Ray to see, she removes. I’m betting Ray will never see this letter.”
Susannah’s strong, condescending voice startled them both. “My, but that’s quite the story you’ve concocted, Cole. Given your history, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The truth is that Ray can’t possibly answer every prayer request. I’m only trying to be a helpful spouse.” Her face showed no emotion, except perhaps contempt.
Seth’s raised voice was angry. “We’re both turning our lives around; we’re not using anymore. We’re grateful for the opportunity we’ve been given. But, please, don’t patronize us.”
Susannah sneered at Cole and Seth. “You don’t even know what patronizing means.”
Seth began to protest, but Cole raised a hand, stopping him. He held the letter between his index and middle fingers, speaking very calmly, trying to sound as professional as he could. “We came across this irate letter and thought you should see it. It’s from a woman filing a complaint with the attorney general against us. She’s talking about fraud.”
Susannah snatched the paper away without looking at it and addressed both men. “I’m not buying your ‘we were just bringing it to you’ story for a second. But here’s what I do buy,” she hissed and moved toward them. “You’re both nothing more than heroin junkies who every day are this close to falling back into your old ways.” She held her index finger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart.
“But,” Cole protested, “you were once an addict yourself, saved by this very program—”
“Shut up,” she snarled and moved in even closer. “I was never on the level of you two losers. I was a drunk, and in case you’ve forgotten, alcohol is legal. Heroin, on the other hand, is not. Let me be very clear—read one more letter, and you’re gone tomorrow. And what would your probation officers think when I tell them you were caught using again, and we had no choice but to let you go?” Susannah taunted them. “This letter or any other letter is none of your concern. Take my advice—do your fucking jobs and pull the checks.”
Cole’s spine straightened, bringing him to his full height. Eye-to-eye with Susannah, the edge in his voice was angry. “Are you threatening us? I’m not afraid to tell Ray this woman has grave concerns.”
Her lips curled into a nasty smirk. “And who do you think he’ll believe? Two grungy junkies or his good Christian wife?”
“Susannah! Sweetheart, where are you? I’m ready to leave,” Ray’s voice called from down the hall.
Cole witnessed her transformation with terrified awe. “In a minute, sweetheart. I’m finishing pulling your prayer requests.” Her voice turned from icy hatred to honey sweet and then back to the former. She put the letter in her purse and leaned in over the desk, separating them. “You mention this to anyone, and I can make you both disappear. Not a fucking word.” As Susannah left the room, the men overheard her coo, “Sorry, darling. I’m ready to go now.”
As their voices faded, Cole huffed angrily, “Jesus, we have got to tell somebody about this.”
Seth looked at him as if he were crazy. “Are you kidding me? You heard what that bitch said! We can’t tell Ray. What the fuck’s the matter with you!”
Cole tapped nervous fingers on Seth’s desk. Then he walked to his workspace, fishing in the wastebasket till he found what he was searching for. “We’re not going to tell Ray,” he said, waving the envelope. “But there are others we can trust. And . . . we have this.”
Buck leaned forward in his living room recliner, listening to Cole and Seth, who sat on the couch and finished the story of their encounter with Susannah. He had never asked their ages, but looking at their scared, unlined faces, he figured early- to mid-twenties at most.
Cole and Seth waited expectantly for Buck to speak, and he reprimanded himself for ever having doubted he could trust them. “Susannah took the letter, so we can’t even contact this Michelle Thomas, correct?”
Rising from the sofa, Cole removed a crumpled envelope from his back jeans pocket. “Not quite. I had tossed the envelope in the trash, and Susannah never asked for it. Ms. Thomas included a return address.”
Buck smoothed out the crinkled envelope, postmarked St. Louis. “Well, she’s local with a legible address, which is all very helpful. I’m glad you thought enough to save this.”
“So now what?” Cole was apprehensive about meeting Buck at his home and rubbed his fingers along the back of his tense neck.
Buck put an elbow across his knee. “First, I want you both to know you can trust Jeff and me implicitly. The next few days will be difficult, but be as nice to Susannah as possible without raising her suspicions.”
Seth crinkled his forehead, gulping air. “I’m not a good enough actor to pull that off.”
Buck sat up straight, eyeing the young men. “You’re gonna have to be. What I’m going to tell you cannot leave this room,” Buck said, leaning in. “Jeff and I have been working with the St. Louis PD trying to figure out who Susannah Williams is. Jeff’s old Iraq War buddy is a homicide detective, and it was Jeff who made contact.”
Cole nodded. “We heard the argument you had with Ray that Susannah had stolen someone’s identity. Then she twists the story that she is the victim. I’ll be honest—Susannah scares me.”
“We all have to be on guard at the office,” Buck said. He held up the envelope. “In the meantime, I’m going to pay a visit to Ms. Thomas.”