The next day Steve drove three hours to Verner to see Johnny in his new habitat. The terms of Johnny’s parole had him working a job there. All the way out Steve kept thinking of two things — Johnny’s professed conversion, and the two government types who had their eyes on him.
The religious angle was especially strange.
There was no God. Steve had figured that out when he prayed harder than anything in his life for God to bring Robert back. Prayed and promised that he would stop lying forever if God would do that for him. Prayed the way his mom had shown him when he was three. On his knees with his hands folded.
He remembered saying, Dear God Dear God please please please.
Over and over, through tears.
Please bring Robert back please please Dear God.
But God didn’t bring Robert back, so there was no God. It was simple. Simple as the alphabet and 2 + 2.
He had never found any reason to reconsider this conclusion. Not through the foster-care years, the high school football years, the college days, or at law school. God didn’t help him an ounce when his first foster father beat the living crud out of him.
Most of his reasoning, though, had to do with Robert.
So what was he to do with this appearance — resurrection? — of his brother? Maybe fate just had a sense of humor.
All Steve knew about Johnny’s parole so far was that it allowed him to live and work within a sixty-mile radius of Verner. He had to report to his parole officer once a week and, of course, was subject to both random drug testing and warrantless searches.
None of this seemed to bother Johnny as he met Steve outside a rustic home in the foothills. Verner was one of the oldest towns in California, off Highway 40. Steve had been there once before, on his way to Las Vegas. It was named for Samuel Verner, a cattleman from Colorado who came to the state in the gold-rush days. He established a ranch and started selling beef to miners and business owners. Made a bundle.
Now the place was a mix of old, new, and touristy. It had a museum of Shoshone and Paiute history. Boasted good fishing and a tri-county fair. The kind of place where a young family could live the slow life, or a parolee get a fresh start. With mountains close by, it was a postcard setting much of the time.
“Welcome, little bro,” Johnny said outside the modest clapboard house. It was off a dirt road, surrounded by plenty of property on either side. Had wooden steps and posts and a front porch with a swing. Without the obvious need for a paint job, it could have been a home out of a Norman Rockwell.
Johnny put his arm around Steve and walked him toward the house. “Any trouble finding the place?”
“MapQuest.”
“Man! That’s the trouble. No privacy anymore. Government looking over your shoulder all the time. This isn’t the America we grew up in.”
“Whose house is this?”
“The old man’s.”
“Your — ”
“The guy who raised me. Eldon LaSalle. You know the name, I’m sure. Didn’t you put it together with mine?”
Even after the second mention, Steve still couldn’t connect the name to anything.
They went up the steps and into the house.
Johnny said, “This is just a little place some of us use when we need to. A little home away from home.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s home?”
“Later, Steve. One step at a time.”
The inside smelled of beer and cigars. Like a Saturday-night poker game. On a sofa in the living room sat the guy who’d given Steve the five thousand dollars in the law library. He stood up.
“Hey, Neal, here’s my baby brother,” Johnny said.
Neal shook Steve’s hand. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
The room was small with several chairs scattered around. Reminded Steve a little of recovery meetings. On the mantel above a stone fireplace hung a wooden cross.
“This is where we hold some meetings,” Johnny said. “Helping guys get back on their feet. Like me.”
“Yeah?”
“We get some pretty messed-up people in here. We may not be what most people think of when it comes to a church, but God isn’t finished with us yet.”
“Hey, doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Judge not’?”
“Right on! We’ll make you a believer yet.”
Don’t knock yourself out on that one, Steve thought. “Do you consider yourselves a church?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“What sort?”
“Independent. The only kind the Bible ever talks about.”
“No denomination?”
“Name me a denomination in the Bible.”
“I’m not really up on — ”
“Go on. Try.”
“Baptist?”
“Not there.”
“What about John the Baptist?”
Johnny laughed and Neal joined him.
“I like you, Steve. We’re going to get along fine, like brothers should.”
Johnny took Steve out to the backyard. The grass was patchy and there was no fence. Pine and birch all around. A nice-looking, peaceful place, Steve thought. Not like city life. But not a place he thought he could ever live. He liked the beat of the city. He’d go crazy here.
Steve heard a growl and turned. A dog with a big black head and eyes blacker than death was tied to a stake in the ground. Checking Steve out.
“That’s Ezekiel,” Johnny said. “After the prophet. He’s a Presa Canario. Good-looking, huh?”
“He thinks I look like lunch,” Steve said, feeling some wetness under his arms. He once had to defend a man who owned a pit bull, one that had mauled an eight-year-old girl. It was not pretty what the dog did to her. It wasn’t pretty what the judge did to the owner, either.
This dog was bigger than a pit bull. Scarier.
“Don’t you worry about Zeke,” Johnny said. “We trained ’im. He’s gentle as a kitten. Unless he thinks one of us is in trouble, of course. Then he’s got a whole Old Testament thing going on.”
They sat at a redwood table in the sun. Neal made up tuna-fish sandwiches and brought out a big bag of Lay’s potato chips. Neal drank a Coors and Johnny a Coke. To keep from getting sloppy, Steve followed Johnny’s lead.
Johnny noticed. “I like it that you’re watching yourself.”
“How’s that?” Steve said.
“Alcohol. It’s the root of so many problems. I gave it up myself. Neal’s on the way. Right, Neal?”
There was a snap of authority in Johnny’s voice. Neal nodded obediently.
“You staying off the ’caine?” Johnny said to Steve.
“You know about that?” Steve said.
Johnny smiled. “I know all about you.”
“What, you had somebody looking into me or something?”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“I don’t know — ”
Johnny put his hand up. “It was all part of finding you, Steve. I didn’t know if you ever wanted to see me again, and I had to try to figure that out. So Neal here did some Internet searching and found out about that disciplinary thing. I’m only asking because I want to help you any way I can.”
“How can you help me?”
“By showing the deliverance of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the freedom we have in him.”
“Why don’t we start with me just being your lawyer?” Steve said.
“Let’s talk about why you don’t believe in God — ”
“Johnny, I believe in the law and in getting things done. And I believe everybody is free to believe the way they want. If religion brings you peace, great.”
“What about the truth?”
“I’m all for that too.”
“Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
Steve took a bite of his sandwich to buy time. He didn’t want this to turn into a high-pressure religious sales job. He washed the bite down with Coke and said, “What’s the nature of the work you want me to do for you?”
“Set us up as a church under the laws of the State of California,” Johnny said. “I want to do it up right. I’ve decided to go into the ministry.”
“He’s got the anointing,” Neal said.
“What’s that?” Steve said.
“God has set me apart,” Johnny said. “That’s the way he used to do it. Anointing with oil. Making people holy. Now it’s done by the Holy Ghost. I didn’t ask for it, Steve. It just happened.”
“In prison?”
“That’s right. Best thing that ever happened to me. Do you know the story of Joseph in the Bible?”
“Jesus’ dad?”
“No, way back. Joseph, son of Jacob. Jacob favored him and Joseph’s brothers got bent about that, faked his death, sold him into slavery.”
“Okay.”
“Joseph ends up in prison, but God is with him, right? God eventually makes it so Joseph is head dude in Egypt, right behind Pharaoh. There’s a famine, Joseph got Egypt to save up food, then Joseph’s brothers come down there looking for food, and that’s how God gets Jacob’s family down to Egypt and saves them. See, Joseph says it was all God’s plan.”
“Prison was God’s plan? I should use that with my clients.”
Neal laughed.
“So what do you say, Steve? You can be part of God’s plan too.”
Steve wasn’t sure about that. “Setting up a church shouldn’t be too hard to do. The law is pretty liberal when it comes to legitimate religious organizations.”
“That’s your job, then. Make us legit. Neal’s got another five thousand for you. And there will be more, Steve. I can see you being like an in-house counsel. What would you say to that?”
“You making an offer?”
“Suppose I did? Suppose it meant a steady income?”
Steve cleared his throat and looked at Ezekiel the dog. He was staring at Steve like he wanted to get to know him. Or his ankle.
“First,” Steve said, “I have a question. Last night a couple of feds came to see me at my apartment. They knew we were talking at Wendy’s. Maybe they had me or you under surveillance. I’m guessing you, because you’re the one who would be easy to watch on parole.”
Johnny shot a look at Neal, who shrugged. “Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?”
“What exactly is it about? You said they’re after you for something. What is it?”
“They just don’t leave you alone! They don’t think a guy can change. A guy does his time, and they’re waiting when he gets out! Can you do anything about this, Steve?”
“I have to know what it’s about first.”
“It’s nothing but a fishing expedition. They’ve been in our face for years. I just want to serve the Lord, and this is what they give me. Steve, can you do anything to stop the harassment?”
“Well, your parole status is High Ser vices. That’s a break.” In California, a parolee with a record like Johnny’s would usually be classified as High Control. That designation had the most restrictions. Johnny must have been a model prisoner.
“You do have a search condition,” Steve said. “They can work with the local departments and search you or drug test you without probable cause.”
“This is worse than North Korea!”
“What is the local situation here? You have run-ins with the sheriff or anything?”
Johnny and Neal exchanged looks. “Mott? He’s been around forever. He doesn’t hassle us. No need. We keep to ourselves.”
“As long as you’re not doing anything wrong — ”
“Who says we’re doing anything wrong?”
“Nobody — ”
“Then don’t put it that way.”
Silence. A little wind blew through the pines. Johnny put on an easy smile.
“Do what you can to get me legitimized,” he said. “I’m going to have a ministry and we’re going to need a good lawyer. There’s guys in the flock who still have some legal troubles. Maybe you can help them too. And as an organization, I’ll need somebody I can trust, really trust. That’s why I’ve come to you, Steve. God has given you to me.”
Ezekiel barked. Loud. Startling Steve. Someone was coming out the back door.