Page 295 of Property of Whiskey

The scrape of chairs around the table stops.

Twila notices and gives the men a look. “Just looking.”

Bullet doesn’t look at us.

He looks at Kaylee. “You good?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

Twila moves slowly and lays the photograph flat on the table instead of handing it to her.

“You don’t have to answer anything.”

Kaylee looks down. Her eyes move across donors, volunteers, and smiling church people before stopping on one face.

Every bit of expression leaves hers.

Bullet leans forward. “What?”

Kaylee raises one finger and points.

Crowley.

“He prayed over us.”

Nobody speaks.

Twila’s voice stays soft. “At Pearly Gates?”

Kaylee nods. “Sometimes.”

Bullet’s forearms come off his knees. “Did he touch you?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

Relief doesn’t come, not with the way she’s still looking at Crowley’s smiling face.

Twila asks, “What did he do?”

Kaylee swallows. “He came in.”

“To where?”

“The room.”

“What room?”

Her eyes flick toward Bullet.

He holds one hand out, palm up.

She takes it.

“He’d come in and pray.”