Laurel moved out of the too-quiet bedroom. It was as if the room knew Lisa wasn’t returning. She shook off her unease. “What did you find?”
Huck stood by an open drawer in the kitchen and held up an envelope. “I found a recent paycheck. Lisa worked for the Genesis Community Church.”
“How far back do the paycheck envelopes go?” She moved closer.
“There are only two.” He unfolded the paper. “This stub only shows the current year, and it looks like she worked there all year. We’ll have to get IRS information to see if she worked there before. It’s weird the sheriff didn’t mention that she worked at the church.”
The sheriff didn’t seem to be a good investigator, based on her few interactions with the man. Laurel settled her jacket more securely around her shoulders. “He seems lazy to me. Besides, the family didn’t know everything about Lisa, since they said she wasn’t dating anybody. I found condoms and lube in her bedside table.”
Huck’s eyebrows lifted. “She was young and probably didn’t want her folks to know that she was sexually active. We’ll know more when we get her phone and computer dump.” He looked around. “It’s weird, right? I don’t know anybody who leaves home without their phone. Especially a twenty-year-old.”
“I agree. It’s possible she forgot the phone, but I think that’s odd as well. It’s more likely that the killer took her from here, and she didn’t even have time to struggle.”
Huck took an evidence envelope from his front pocket and slid the paystubs into it. “Let’s hit the church.”
Chapter Twenty-One
After leaving Lisa Scotford’s apartment, Huck drove away from the creek to the river road and then followed it farther into the wilderness. Finally, a snow-covered field opened up in the distance. He turned left onto a paved, tree-lined road and drove toward the river. “There’s the church.”
Laurel leaned toward her window for a better look. The Genesis Community Church appeared to be a typical country church. Freshly painted, the wooden structure had a steeple, stained glass windows, and several wings. “That is a large building,” she murmured.
Huck parked the truck up front, past the few vehicles already covered with snow in the sprawling, paved parking lot. “I believe much of the surrounding land, including the individual farms and businesses, are actually owned by the church.”
“That makes the church very powerful in this area,” Laurel murmured, studying the innocuous-looking building.
Huck grunted.
Laurel had spent enough time with him to recognize the sound as his grunt of agreement. She grinned at the thought and unbuckled her belt before stepping out into the falling snow. “What do you know about the pastor?”
“Nothing,” Huck admitted, jumping out, motioning Aeneas out, and shutting his door before continuing. “Both he and the church are very present in the community, but I am not. They have a website, and they claim their congregation is full of love and light, and that the church is a good place for people looking for a simpler, safer, and more Godly life.” He waited at the front of the truck.
Laurel walked carefully over the ice to reach his side. “From what I’ve heard, the church does a lot of good in the surrounding areas.”
Huck grunted. His boot steps thunked on the worn wooden steps to the church’s narthex, where he stopped and pulled open the left door. “Yeah, whatever.”
Oh yeah. The preacher involved in Huck’s last case had turned out to be a murderer. Man, she hoped he didn’t have a blind spot when it came to church leaders, because she needed him on this.
She stepped inside a serene vestibule with a table holding pamphlets, a bulletin board with different announcements, and unlabeled twin doors on either side of her. Silence hung peacefully, as it only did in churches. She strode down the nave, between the deeply polished pews, and looked at both the north and south transepts. At the wall end of each, tall stained-glass windows with no discernible figures sparkled despite the meager light outside. Vibrant blue, red, purple, and yellow sections colored the glass. “Those are beautiful,” she whispered.
Huck looked around.
She then turned forward to see a high pulpit to the left, a lectern to the right, and an area most likely for the choir behind that. The chancel led to the altar, and behind it, another lovely stained-glass window was visible. This one was translucent enough to show the river and a high mountain peak outside.
“That’s Orphan Peak,” Huck said quietly. “We rescued three campers off the other side last winter. The thing is a beast to climb.”
“Still part of the Cascades?” Laurel asked.
“Yep.” Huck turned. “Let’s find somebody.” He strode back down the nave and paused at the two closed doorways. “What do you think? Left or right?”
The door to his right opened and a man walked through. “Oh. Hello.” He instantly smiled and hurried to deposit stapled information sheets on the table. “How can I help you?” He appeared to be in his midthirties, with deep-brown skin, short, curly brown hair, light brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and a hard-cut jaw shaven smooth.
“We’re looking for the pastor,” Huck said, standing eye to eye with the man. They both had to be about six foot four, but Huck was much broader.
“I’m Pastor John. What can I do for you, officer?” The pastor pushed his glasses up his nose and then looked over at Laurel. His head cocked and he blinked several times. “Oh. Hello. And you are?” He moved toward her, taking her hand in both of his. Behind the glasses, his eyes intensified. A burst of color ran over his high cheekbones.
She calmly extracted her hand.
Huck grunted. “This is FBI Special Agent Snow. We’re here on business, Pastor.”
