“I should have done more for you, Eden. I hope you’ll accept my sincerest apologies that I held my tongue.”
“I…thank you. I’m not really sure what more you could’ve done.”
He made a noise of disagreement. “I hoped I’d see you again at your brother’s ordination, but your parents shut down any mention of you.”
I hesitated, then said, “You know him well, then? Isaiah?”
“We see each other at regional events, church meetings, that kind of thing.” After a beat of silence, he said, “He’s not like your parents, Eden. He’s a good man, a good father.”
I sucked in a breath that I was sure he heard over the line. “I’m glad to hear it. That’s not why I’m calling, though. I had a couple questions. There’s been a situation here.”
“Of course. How can I help?”
Biting my lip, I decided to lay it out as quickly and concisely as possible. “Someone is threatening a man who means a great deal to me. She used a car stolen from your church.”
“Sandra,” he said immediately. “Sandra Billings.”
Some memory tried to surface, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. “Who is she?”
“She was the church secretary here for several years. I reported the car missing when she disappeared, along with several weeks’ worth of offering plate envelopes.”
“So she was living in Cortland?” I said, frowning down at the breakroom table.
“Yes. I spoke to the police in Spruce Hill when the car was found. Is that where you are now?”
My thoughts drifted to that photo of my niece, looking as haunted as ten-year-old me must have looked to Pastor Baumgartner. When I didn’t reply, Baumgartner called my name, sounding concerned.
“Yes, I’m in Spruce Hill. Does Sandra have any children?”
“No, I don’t believe she ever married. Eden, what’s going on?”
I wrinkled my nose as I debated the answer. “I don’t know. We need to find Sandra Billings as quickly as possible, though. Do you have any idea where she’d go if she needed a place to lay low?”
Baumgartner went silent for a second before saying, “Maybe, but I think I should get that information to the police.”
“Yes, you should,” I agreed quickly, already typing a search into my laptop as an idea popped into my head.
I held my breath as the results loaded, including an article regarding the church’s purchase of an old warehouse along route 104, maybe half an hour east of Spruce Hill. There was noaddress listed, but a few clicks led me to two potential properties, both sold in the past six months.
Bingo.
“Eden.”
The word was a warning, one I ignored even though some deep, hidden part of my psyche warmed at the thought of this stranger’s concern for my safety—twenty years agoandnow. I couldn’t leave this to the police. Milo had almost died and might still be in danger, and I knew intimately how twisted some of the church’s teachings could get inside someone’s head.
I’d learned that well before the first time I met Pastor Baumgartner.
“Thank you for speaking with me, Pastor. I really do appreciate your help.”
“Eden, please don’t do anything that might put you in harm’s way,” he pleaded.
“Of course,” I agreed, the lie tripping off my tongue with only a tiny twinge of guilt. “Thank you again.”
I ended the call before he could push any harder. With my luck, he’d immediately contact Chief Roberts and my advantage would be lost. I needed to hurry if I had any chance to act on the information before someone showed up to stop me.
No one else would be hurt by this. Not if I had anything to say about it.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I grabbed my coat and peeked out into the shop. There was only a lone shopper browsing the racks.
