CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“A pparently I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.” She shook her finger at me. “Skip, how do you get into so much trouble?”
Normally her cute sarcasm would charm me. This time it didn’t. For the second night in a row, I was spending time in some godforsaken campground, lying on the grass and wondering if I was ever again going to visit my crappy bed in Carol City, or ever feel the sting of a razor to shave off almost three days of growth on my face. “I work at it, okay.”
“Em, this is all my fault. Mea culpa. Mea culpa.” Daron tugged on the brim of his hat.
“Seriously, what happened?” The sarcasm was gone. Em was now all business. Gruff and ready to take on reality.
“Skip tripped. Hit his head on a rock.” As simple as that.
“Tripped on what?”
“Oh. My suitcase.” He motioned to the opened luggage, his flashlight playing on women’s underwear — a couple of bras, some panties, and what appeared to be a teddy.
“ Your suitcase? Just one more thing about you that makes me very uneasy.”
Styles seemed to bristle. “What makes you uneasy? I’ve put myself at risk tonight to help you guys, to find out what’s going on here, and you have the nerve to say that?”
I tried again to stand. Em reached down, offering me her hand, and I slowly rose. The dizziness seemed to have gone, and although I was just a bit lightheaded, we walked to the truck. Em lifted the latch, raised the door, and we hoisted ourselves up to the bed, sitting with our legs dangling over the edge. Styles sat on the dew-damp grass and looked up at us.
“You came out of the office, took us around the tent, and you disappeared.”
I slowly removed the rag from my head. The white cloth was damp from the blood, but it felt like the flow had stopped.
“I can explain that.”
“Let’s hear it,” Em said.
“I went into the office and it was just like I said. The guard was crashed on the sofa.”
“Who was on duty?” I wanted to know.
“Dusty. He used to be a schoolteacher. Math or some science.”
“I know him.”
“Anyway, he’s asleep in the other room. So I sat down at the computer.” Styles lit a cigar and when the first smell of tobacco hit me, I could feel my head start to spin. I grabbed the edge of the truck bed and Em grabbed me.
“You okay?”
I wasn’t sure. I took a deep breath, more oxygen than smoke, and felt better.
“I turned it on, waited for it to boot up, made sure the speakers were unplugged — ”
Em interrupted. “So it’s all supposed to be on the computer? I thought he and this Stan kept stuff on their organizers.”
“They do that too.”
“And where are the organizers? In a safe?”
“No. I guess they keep them on their persons. There isn’t any safe. After each service, an armored car pulls up around back and takes the offerings to the bank. No money spends any time here at all. At least that’s the way it was three years ago. I imagine they’ve got the same policies in effect.”
I could feel the skin on my head start to itch. The last thing I could do was scratch.
“So, you turned on the computer?” I was doubtful if anything he was telling us was the truth.
“I did.”
“You’ve never seen this computer before? And you were able to just go in and find all of this information?”
“It’s a long story, son, but I have been on that computer before.”
“And inside that office before.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not going to tell me why?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business. But I can tell you that no one was any wiser, and yes, I did figure out the password.”
I had no idea how you ever figured out passwords. You go to movies and see people get like three chances before the program locks up, and these hacks put in things like birthdays, anniversaries, the name of a kid, or a pet, and sure enough, on the third try they get it right. I wasn’t that inventive. I used ABCD. That was it. Of course, I had nothing in my computer or my cell phone that had any value whatsoever.
“I had the idea. Just had to look it up. Thankfully there was a Bible on the shelf above the desk.”
Em raised her eyebrows. “A Bible?”
“A Bible.”
“And you looked up what?”
“Seemed like the only logical password they would use. I just had to make sure I got it right. 2 Corinthians 9:11”
“And?”
“It opened right up.”
I had to admit, it was brilliant. I’d never have thought of it. “So what did you find?”
“I had to root around, sort through a bunch of stuff, but he’s got pages full of anecdotes, events, and stories about things that have happened everywhere the rev has been.”
Em was being her cynical self. “So it was that easy? You just walk away with all the information? Just like that?”
“You calling me a liar?”
“I just find it hard to believe.”
“Let me finish my story. Then you can poke it full of holes. Okay?”
She shut up.
“I knew that LeRoy and the pizza guy kept notes. I don’t think even the full-timers know all that’s in them. So I’m going through all these pages, and sure enough, there my name is.”
Em was leaning forward. I hoped she didn’t get so engrossed that she’d fall off the edge of the truck. “And mine?” she said.
“No. But James and Skip are mentioned. He simply sidebars their names with ‘FBI informants’ and a question mark.”
“So they don’t really believe that? They’re not one hundred percent sure?”
“Skipper, if they were one hundred percent sure, you’d really be an informant, wouldn’t you?”
He had a point.
“They’re looking into it, son.” He flicked his ash and for a brief second a spark burned in the night air.
“So what else?” I needed to know who the heck I saw being dragged away from the office.
“I’m reading and not paying attention.”
“And?”
“And I hear a slight rustling. I turn around and Dusty is standing there with his gun pointed right at my — ” he paused, glanced up at Em, then continued, “groin. I thought he was going to shoot my balls off.”
“Dusty caught you?”
“He did.”
“And why didn’t he shoot your balls off? I think I would have.” Em glowered at him.
Styles took a mouthful of smoke, let it trickle slowly from his mouth and smiled. “A former school teacher doesn’t have the balls to shoot someone else’s balls off. I knew that going in.”
