Father Bill peered out at the moving throng. “Thanks, Chief.
Good job, boys. Kathleen, lead through the north door and out to the parking lot. Go to the far side near the rectory. Assemble by Sunday school classes.”
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Abruptly, the main lights came on. Glad cries came as mothers scooped up children. Long lines, now four abreast, moved swiftly through both exits.
Fire engines rumbled into the parking lot, the sirens ending abruptly. It seemed only an instant and firemen in white hats and bulky yellow coats were thundering inside. One shouted, “Where’s the fire?”
Father Bill jumped down from the platform, worked his way through the diminishing crowd. “It must be the roof. There’s no smoke inside.” He looked anxious, kept checking to see if the evacu-ation was continuing. “Are flames visible outside?”
“No flames. No smoke. We’ll check it out.” The fireman turned away, gestured to his men. Firemen left the parish hall in a heavy run, thudded out into the main hallway. Chief Cobb followed. Muf-fled shouts could be heard. “Anybody smell smoke? Check those closets.”
The tall golden lights of the parking lot dissipated the gloom of dusk. Car headlights added their bright gleam. Families searched for missing children, came together in thankfulness.
Father Bill was the last person out of the church. He stood on the steps, gazing out at the surging mass of evacuees. His voice was strong, reassuring. “Firemen are looking for a blaze and making certain no one remains inside. We’ll stay here until there’s an all clear sounded.”
Breathless and shaking, the sexton burst out the door, reached Father Bill. “The fuse box was messed with. Somebody threw the switches. That’s why the lights went off. The fire alarm by the nurs-ery was yanked plumb out. Father Bill, I don’t think there’s a fire.
There’s no smoke, nothing hot. I looked everywhere. The firemen are up in the attic and down in the furnace room, but they don’t see anything wrong. Somebody played a mean trick on us.”
“No fire.” Relief made Father Bill look years younger.
G h o s t at Wo r k
The door swung open and Chief Cobb and the fire chief stepped outside. Firemen filed down the steps, returning to their engines.
Chief Cobb held up a hand. “There is no fire. The alarm had been pulled, but there is no trace of fire anywhere in the church building.
If anyone has any information regarding this incident, please contact me or one of my officers. It is against the law to trigger a fire alarm without cause.”
Voices rose and fell. “A false alarm.” “No fire after all.” “Thank God.” “If it was a Halloween prank . . .” Kathleen pushed through the crowd bunched near the foot of the stairs. In the stark light at the entrance, her face was white and strained. “Bill, where’s Bayroo? I can’t find her anywhere.” Father Bill was impatient. “She’s out there.” He gestured at the several hundred dark figures moving in no coherent pattern. “She was with the young people.” He called, “Bayroo?” Kathleen ran to the top of the steps. She whirled to face the parking lot. She stretched out her hands. “Bayroo.” Her call rose above the sounds of the crowd, the shuffle of feet, the rumble as the fire engines pulled away. “Bayroo, where are you?” Silence fell. No one moved. No one spoke.
“Bayroo?” Kathleen clutched Father Bill’s arm.
No answer.
Father Bill held Kathleen tight, stared out at the lot. He shouted.
“Bayroo! Bayroo!”
Marie Antoinette, one hand clamped to fake curls to keep her wig in place, dashed up the steps. “She was right with me. We were helping the little kids in the Mysterious Maze and we got outside and Jimmy Baker was sick at his stomach. He always throws up when he gets excited. Somebody turned on a flashlight. It was shining right at Bayroo and a voice called out, ‘Bayroo Abbott, this way please.’ I had to help Jimmy and then everybody was moving across the parking lot and I didn’t see her again.” Tears rolled down Lucinda’s face,
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smearing the dramatic makeup. “I even looked in the house.” She pointed toward the rectory. “She wasn’t there. Nobody’s there. Oh, Mrs. Abbott, where can Bayroo be?”
Kathleen clung to her husband. “She’s gone, Bill. She’s gone.
Somebody’s taken my baby.”
Father Bill’s voice shook. “We’ll find her. We will, Kathleen.
Please, God.” It was a father’s shaken prayer.
Chief Cobb cupped his hands to his mouth. “Bayroo Abbott.
Bayroo Abbott.”
Murmurs of sound rose, but Bayroo was gone. In the melee, no one had noticed her departure.
Kathleen darted down the steps. “I’m going to get flashlights.” Father Bill turned to Chief Cobb. “We have to have help. We need search teams. Can’t you get some dogs to help track?” Chief Cobb looked stolid, but his brows pulled down in a worried frown. “Perhaps she was frightened by the false alarm. There’s no evidence she’s been abducted.”
Father Bill gripped the chief’s arm. “Bayroo would never run away and leave the children. Never.”
Chief Cobb held his cell phone. “No one saw her leave under duress.”
Father Bill’s voice was husky. “Our senior warden was murdered not far from here. Now Bayroo’s in danger. You’ve got to help us.” Kathleen returned with flashlights. “I’m going to look.” Her eyes were hollow, her face desperate. “Maybe in the preserve, maybe . . .” Father Bill gripped her arm. “They’re setting up teams. The Boy
