Liam couldn’t make himself go inside Our Savior Community Church. His justification was that after going home to clean up, he’d arrived too late for the start of the service, though he had dawdled intentionally to create this excuse. Then he told himself the parking lot would be full, left his car a few blocks away, and ambled to the church in no particular hurry. Eventually Liam reasoned there was no point in going in, and he sat on the cement steps outside the front entrance until an usher pushed open the doors and worshippers spilled out of the building.
Liam was only there because it was part of his deal with Cooper. That was hours ago. What was taking so long?
The day’s weather carried no vestige of yesterday’s wreckage. Midday sun illumined branches stripped of leaves the previous afternoon and spread its pervasive glare as if the occasion were only another mild September afternoon. Puddles formed in worn depressions of earth and asphalt bore witness to the brief drenching rain that followed the howling wind, but most of the water had run off as quickly as it came down. Debris, however, was widespread. Television meteorologists named the places where the tornado had touched down, and Hidden Falls escaped all the lists. No structures had splintered or collapsed. Nevertheless, a force beyond anyone’s control left its evidence in papers scattered in the wind, downed branches, trash cans rolling through the streets blocks from where they belonged, tumbled signs, broken glass, shingles in all the wrong places.
The church had not been spared. Liam noticed now that the second-story window above the main entrance had cracked, and the church’s sign on the corner was missing most of its letters. A tent pole was lodged in the bushes across the front of the building, carried all the way from the back lawn. Most of the booths at yesterday’s health fair had been abandoned before they were fully disassembled. Liam hadn’t made much of an effort to deconstruct the tent he’d occupied, choosing instead to heed the warning to take cover.
Liam wasn’t sure what to do. He had to stay. This is where Cooper would come—and he’d be expecting to find Liam hard at work. Liam moved out of the way of Bruce and Raisa Gallagher, who carried their two little girls down the front steps. He looked up and spotted Henry Healy from the sporting goods store.
“You here to help?” Henry raised his bushy eyebrows.
Liam nodded. “Figured there would be plenty to do.”
“You figured right. Somebody’s gone for pizzas to feed the crew, but Pastor Matt wants everyone out on the back lawn as soon as possible.”
“Then that’s where I’ll go.”
“First come with me to the shed for a couple of the big trash bins,” Henry said.
Liam followed. Henry unlocked the shed, and they rolled two massive waste receptacles out to the lawn. Matthew Kendrick righted a collapsed table, and a couple of women folded back the tops of pizza boxes and set out a stack of paper plates. Liam wondered if anyone had more recent information about Lauren than he did. If anyone asked, he would tell what he knew. She’d come through the night well and shouldn’t be in the hospital too much longer.
The group of workers gathered around the pizza table. Liam hung back. Pastor Matt whistled for attention.
“We’re going to give thanks,” Matt said, “for willing workers, for the fact that more people weren’t hurt in yesterday’s storm, and for the ministry of Lauren Nock, who helps so many people. I want to offer the opportunity for any who wish to pray aloud for Lauren’s healing and recovery, and then we will bless the food.”
Liam bowed his head but looked out of the sides of his eyes at the people circling the table. He hadn’t done this in years, but something about it comforted him. People cared about Lauren, and their heartfelt words were persuasive that God cared. A soft angst oozed through Liam. He couldn’t think of anyone who would want to pray for him. Besides, his mess was more complicated than praying for healing.
He wished Cooper would show up. Instead of taking a slice of pizza, Liam picked up a large, thick plastic trash bag and moved to the outskirts of the lawn. Soggy papers littered the grass—blank forms and food wrappers and blurred recipes. Liam picked up one piece or sometimes a fistful at a time and stuffed it all in his bag. Others joined him. A chain saw started up, and a group of men attacked the fallen tree limb that easily could have killed Liam’s brother. Someone backed a pickup truck onto the lawn; volunteers tossed bent poles and ripped canvas and broken folding chairs into the truck’s bed to be hauled to the dump. When Liam filled his bag, he tied it closed, tossed it into one of the huge receptacles, and pulled another bag off the roll. He murmured greetings to people who were no doubt surprised to see him there but offered no explanation. After filling another bag, Liam switched to helping stack the pieces of oak that the chain saw trimmed to size. A couple of trustees inspected all the trees on the lot and designated a few more branches to be cut down before they fell.
Liam wiped an arm across his forehead, drawing sweat away from his eyes. When he looked up again, Cooper fell into step beside him. They crossed to a quieter corner of the lawn.
“I only have a preliminary opinion,” Cooper said.
Liam welcomed any encouragement he could get.
“It would have helped,” Cooper said, “to have the second note for comparison.”
“The storm,” Liam said. He’d never meant to leave yesterday without picking up the envelope from where he’d dropped it in the box of health brochures.
“I know.” Cooper stooped and picked up a two-foot piece of tree limb. “The note you did have uses a mixture of complete sentences and fragments, but everything is spelled correctly and punctuated. That seems to indicate a level of sophistication.”
Liam had never thought of blackmailers as sophisticated. Sinister was the word he would have chosen.
“There’s a certain cadence to it,” Cooper said, “a certain structure in the three lines.”
“And what does that mean? Is it a clue?”
Cooper cocked his head. “It might indicate a person with a mathematical bent. Or a highly organized person.”
“Like Jessica, you mean.”
Cooper put up one hand. “I’m not pointing fingers. I’m just giving you the preliminary profile I got from my buddy.”
Liam swallowed. “What else did your friend say?”
“It’s a person who likes to be in control, to call the shots.”
In other words, just like Jessica. “I’ve been an idiot, Cooper.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been saying that for thirty years, but in this case, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Cooper adjusted the Cubs hat on his head. “I kept my inquiries general. If you want to take this further, the sheriff is going to want to know more.”
“They’ll suspect me.”
“Maybe. But do you have a choice?”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“You haven’t been accused of anything yet.”
Liam looked away. The men with the chain saw dropped a tree limb.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Liam said, “except be stupid in love.”
“Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Why doesn’t that comfort me? I’ve been over those accounts enough times that I could practically prove myself guilty. It won’t take much to make a case against me.”
“If there’s a crime,” Cooper said, “I can’t be complicit in concealing it.”
“I know.” Liam had set his own course when he confided in his brother. “When can you get more information for me?”
“Probably tomorrow.”
“You’ll have someone look at the accounts?” Liam asked.
Cooper nodded. “If that’s what you want. We’ll need your cooperation. But there won’t be any turning back from what we find.”
“So maybe I should put Jack Parker on retainer after all.”
Cooper let out a controlled breath. “I’m not going to advise you on that.”
“You don’t like Jack.”
Cooper pressed his lips together. “Not too much, no. But that’s no indication of his legal abilities.”
“I’m innocent, Cooper. Embarrassed, and probably naive, but innocent.”