The smile disappeared. You sure?'
'The guy up there has told my colleague she needs a temple recommend to see the material.'
She let out a low whistle and creased her brow. 'That's strange. It shouldn't be in there.'
Why not?'
'Special collections is for Mormon eyes only. Church members use it to look up their dead ancestors who were LDS and check out ceremonies carried out in temple, baptism for the dead, sealing ceremonies, that kind of stuff. Not newspaper reports. I smell a lot of a rat.'
'Do you know anyone who has a temple recommend?'
'Sure. I do.'
Nigel almost performed a double take. For a few seconds, words failed him.
Donna sensed his incredulity. 'I take it you didn't have me down as a Mormon?'
No, he thought. You've done nothing but flirt with me since I arrived. You wear make-up. You're attractive. I thought all these things were antithetical to Mormonism.
'I hadn't presumed . . .' he stuttered.
She put her hand up. 'It's OK. We have an image problem. But be assured, not all Mormon women are dull kewpie-doll housewives. I think some Mormon men would like us to be, but there's still room for individualism.'
She put her hands on her hips. 'Not much, though.
Especially if you're a working single parent, and a divorcee.
But enough of that crap. Take me to where your friend is.'
They made their way to the second floor where Heather was deep in conversation with a different gentleman, this one in a suit, exuding more authority than the last. His face bore the simpering look of someone trying to be sympathetic while remaining obstinate. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Nigel and Donna approaching, and a mote of panic crept across his bland features. Nigel could hear Heather's diatribe.
'You're obstructing a police investigation. One that may well lead to the death of more people. Does the Mormon Church really want blood on its hands?' she said.
'Hell, no,' Donna said. 'We have quite enough of that already'
Heather furrowed her brow; gave Donna a quizzical look. The 'we' and its revelation that she was a Mormon obviously came as a big surprise, as it had to Nigel.
Donna ignored her, concentrated on the man in the suit. 'Todd.'
'Donna.' The look of panic spread.
'These people are our guests here. They've come a long way. They're working on important business, like the lady told you. Cut them a break, huh?'
He shrugged. 'Donna, I don't make the rules. They need a temple recommend.'
'I have one,' she said. 'I'm working for these guys. Ain't that right?'
'It sure is,' Heather said, nodding.
'So move along and get this information ready for these good people to take a look at.'
'OK,' he said and trudged away.
'Thanks for that,' Heather said, and Nigel could tell she truly meant it.
'Not a problem. I have a fifteen-year-old daughter. I wouldn't want any petty religious bureaucracy getting in the way of anyone finding her. Plus, I'm intrigued. Just what the hell has all this to do with the Mormon Church?'
Heather leaned against a table. 'When you said back then that the Mormon Church had enough blood on its hands, what did you mean?'
Donna smiled. 'My Church was established in frontier land America. It was a bloody, lawless place and the founders did what they could to survive and prosper. Not all of it good. Not that the current Church leaders would care to admit it. I'm different. I'm a genealogist like Nigel here. I embrace the past and all its imperfections rather than seeking to airbrush it. My guess is that the newspaper reports you're seeking don't paint the Church in a particularly flattering light, so someone is making it as difficult as possible for anyone to find them.'
Todd returned, not without trepidation. He had a moustache that even appeared to droop apologetically.
He clapped his hands together softly and took a deep breath. 'There's a problem.'
'Why doesn't that surprise me?' drawled Donna.
'What is it?' Heather asked, attempting to cloak her impatience, unsuccessfully.
'The material you require isn't held at the library'
There was a pause as they digested this information.
Heather spoke. 'Where is it then?'
'It exists only as an original copy'
'It's never been microfilmed?' Donna asked.
Todd shook his head.
'So it's not even at the granite mountain vault?'
Again Todd shook his head.
'But we were told the LDS Church had the material,'
Heather said, nonplussed. 'That's why we're here.'
'I believe the Church does have copies,' Todd said.
'Where are they then?'
'I'm afraid that information is classified.'
Nigel could contain his anger no longer. 'A newspaper is a matter of public record,' he spat out. 'You can't confiscate it, change history, not unless you're a bloody Stalinist.'
Todd looked at him impassively, soaking it up like a human sponge.
It merely served to further enrage Nigel. 'This is censorship, pure and unadorned. I thought this was supposed to be the Land of the Free? Or does that not apply to the Mormon Church?'
Todd looked at Nigel, waiting for him to finish. There was an awkward silence. He drew himself up taller. 'I'm sorry, but any complaints you have must be taken up with the Church authorities.'
He turned on his heels and scurried away to his office hideout.
They sat in silence at a cafe two blocks from the library.
All of a sudden Nigel was feeling the effects of missing a night's sleep, as if he was wearing a hat of lead. He hoped the coffee would help. He could see Heather was seething.
A girl was missing, and they had flown halfway across the world to obtain a lead that might help find her, yet they had been thwarted by the clandestine practices of the Church of Latter-day Saints. Donna appeared to sense their resentment.
'My Church has got a lousy sense of what constitutes good PR,' she drawled, ruby-red lips blowing gently on her decaff latte, creating a rippling effect across its foamy top. 'It's an endless source of frustration to those of us who believe in openness and honesty. But the hierarchy has a somewhat paranoiac view of our Church's past.'
'Why?' Nigel asked. He couldn't see what could be served by squirrelling away documents that were part of the public record.
'We're a modern religion. The Mormon Church was founded at the start of the era of civil registration, which means there's a host of documents that people can look at, some of which can be used to question Church orthodox history. Then you have newspapers that print inconvenient things. I don't recall Jesus or Mohammed having to deal with the press. Things you didn't know about can turn up and cause people to dispute the accepted view of events. And, rather than saying, 'Shit, do your worst -- we believe it, we think this is a religion worth following and so do ten million new folks every year across the globe,'
the culture is to hush things up, get your mitts on anything remotely critical of the Church, or which presents an unkind view, and hide it away from prying eyes. It's self defeating, because most of these documents and records appear in one form or another. Nigel and I know you can't sit on the past. It has a way of leaking out, like blood through sand.'
'Amen to that,' Nigel said. 'The past cannot be denied.'
'In which case,' Heather said, perking up, 'there must be somewhere where these newspaper reports still exist.'
'I'm sure they do,' Donna said. 'But y'all don't have the time. Unless.'
'Unless what?'
