Dead Giveaway

has not healed from our loss despite accepting God's will. Any questions concerning that time are distressing.'

Andrew took my elbow as we walked down the hall to the office. 'I feel so humble in your presence, Abby Rose. Your dedication to your cause, the determination in your eyes—how I wish I had half of your passion.'

I fought the urge to pull away from his touch. How could someone go from being vibrant and in charge of a huge audience to downright disturbed in less than an hour?

Since they were vacuuming the pastor's office, we opted for the library and sat in those cushy chairs. I took a deep breath before I spoke. Having had a min ute to think made me realize that being a little less pushy might be a better approach with them.

But before I could open my mouth and offer a kinder, gentler Abby, a lady in turquoise scrubs with little panda bears all over the fabric came rushing into the room. I recognized her as the one who had been driving the van yesterday.

'Pastor? I—' She looked at me. 'I am so sorry to interrupt.' She stood there, her fingers working, obviously distressed.

Pastor Rankin stood, his concern evident. 'Is it Chester? Is he going downhill?'

The woman nodded.

Reading my questioning look, Noreen Rankin said, 'This is Olive, our nurse's aide. She visits the shutins, makes sure they get medical care, takes them out to pick up their medicines. We don't know what we'd do without her.'

Olive sure had a huge job if she was serving the gigantic congregation by herself. Maybe there was more than one aide, though.

'Noreen, Abby Rose,' said the pastor, 'I'm needed elsewhere. Will you forgive me if I leave?'

'Is someone sick?' I asked.

'Yes. Please return, Abby Rose. We have much to discuss and the light... I think I understand now. You've been sent to help me past the sorrow.'

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Rankin close her eyes and shake her head. Maybe she needed to consider upping his meds.

The pastor left with Olive and I turned to Mrs. Rankin. 'Tell me about your daughter. You must have loved her very much.'

If Noreen Rankin was unnerved by her husband's less-than-normal behavior, she'd stuffed it down. She rested against the cushions, raised her eyes to the stained-glass ceiling. 'She was our angel. Gifted in so many ways. God must have needed her, called her to His side.'

'She left for the mission trip several weeks before Lawrence was arrested, correct?'

'Yes. Our ministry was working in central Mexico with a town in need of help. Sara felt the calling.'

'But what about school? It wasn't summer, so she was supposed to be in school, right?'

'School is more than a classroom and textbooks, Ms. Rose. Her education never stopped.'

'She went alone? Didn't that worry you?'

'Her father took her, left her in the hands of the pastor there. Andrew was much more in touch with reality back then.' She looked me straight in the eye. 'He does have some lingering emotional problems, as I'm sure you've noticed.'

'But he is a wonderful speaker,' I said with a smile, at a loss for anything better to say.

She just smiled back.

I had to fill the awkward silence, so I moved on. 'When did you realize Sara... wasn't coming back?'

Mrs. Rankin fiddled with the hem of her pale yellow sweater and spoke softly, saying, 'May. We got a call, that horrible phone call every parent dreads. She'd fallen and they couldn't find her body. What a nightmare. We spared no expense searching, but she was gone. I have spent years learning to accept God needed her and took her. I am at peace with that today.'

'The pastor's not at peace,' I said.

'He's not always in touch with the world outside that sanctuary. He thinks she'll walk through the door one day, still sixteen, still as full of life as ever.'

I considered the timing. Sara could have left, but maybe she didn't die in May as her parents assumed. If she gave birth to Lawrence's child in the fall of '87, the mission trip was a cover to hide the pregnancy from her family. 'Several months passed from the time she left until you knew she was... gone for good?'

'We kept hoping for a miracle throughout the year. Andrew wouldn't give up the search. He was a strong man back then, poured his heart and soul into his ministry—I think sometimes to avoid spending every minute thinking about Sara.'

'Why did you finally have that memorial service at Christmastime?' I asked, remembering what Oscar Drummond had told me and the small newspaper article mentioning the celebration of Sara's life.

'How did you know? From the books?' She glanced over her shoulder at the shelves.

'I located someone from the youth group. Oscar Drummond told me.'

'Ah, Oscar. Nice young man. Anyway, I convinced Andrew we had to let go of Sara. In the years that followed, I thought I'd made the right decision, because Andrew seemed to be coping well. He moved up the ranks, brought so many more people to our church.' The smile that had disappeared when Mrs. Rankin had been talking about her daughter's death returned.

'But things have changed?'

'He has his good days. Lucid ones. And I hope you'll be kind enough to not say anything about his unusual behavior tonight. We don't want to trouble those who need him and might falter if Andrew were forced out of his position here.'

'Sure. I'm just looking for the truth, and I do appreciate your help. I knew Sara's death took a toll on your husband the first time we met, but I didn't realize the magnitude.'

'Maybe Andrew is onto something about you, Ms. Rose, because I'm inspired by your dedication to your job. You've learned so much in a day's time, and I've done nothing to reach out to the others who must have felt our terrible loss back then. They were her friends, after all.'

'Oscar would love to hear from you.' And love to manage the church money, given half a chance. Plenty of money here, that's for sure. Enough money to help keep a big secret? But before I could think harder on this, I heard the muffled ring of the phone in my purse. 'Excuse me,' I said.

I answered and was surprised to hear Burl's voice. 'I found the place.'

'The place?' I said, confused.

'Verna Mae's storage unit. In Houston. I'm on my way there.'

'Can I meet you?' I asked.

'Sure.' After he gave me the address, I hung up and looked at Mrs. Rankin. 'Thanks for talking to me. I know it wasn't easy.'

'Can you find your way out?' she asked.

'No problem,' I answered.

As I hurried to my car, I was willing to bet Sara had left home to hide a pregnancy and gave birth, maybe in that Mexican village. Was Mrs. Rankin telling the truth? Or did Sara's parents guess the real reason she left? They might have made up the mission trip story and the mysterious fall to keep the church from learning the truth about their daughter's sin— and they surely would have considered her behavior a sin. Maybe they hoped Sara would return after time passed—their 'lost child' miraculously found. But then a real tragedy occurred—teenage pregnancies can be dangerous, and Sara could have died in childbirth. The Rankins found out somehow and left the baby with Verna Mae.

Then I thought of another scenario. Jessica Roman could have been Will's mother and was lying through her teeth today, thinking she could get busted for abandoning a child.

You don't know enough to be sure of anything, I thought, as I climbed into my Camry. I pulled out of the parking lot hoping that storage unit would yield something to tie everything together. I needed more than wild guesses.

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