“Yeah, well, be careful where you look around here because you may not like what you find.”

“What do you mean?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bishop Schrock is strict to the extreme. If he likes you, you’re in. If he doesn’t, you’re screwed. I guess you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

I look away, draw on the cigarette. “Maybe I already have.”

She cocks her head, her eyes narrowing on mine. Inwardly, I smile; finally, I have her undivided attention. She’s fully engaged, as if she’s been invited into some exclusive private club and gets to hang out with the beautiful people. She wants the scoop. She wants to know what I did to deserve it. This is the thing I can share that might prompt her to share something in return.

“What did he do to you?” she asks.

I tell her about the two men on snowmobiles throwing me into the chicken coop. “That’s why I asked you about it. It scared me.”

“What did you do to deserve that?”

I shrug. “I’d rather not say.”

She seems to accept that. “You’d better be careful.”

“I plan to.” I hit the cigarette again. “You don’t like him much, do you?”

She lowers the cigarette and gives me a hard, hostile look. “What are you going to do? Report back to him and tell him what I said?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone anything.” I tilt my head, holding her gaze. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know you. You’re not my best bud. As far as I know you’re a spy.”

“A spy?” Spoken aloud the word sounds absurd and I let fly with a laugh. “What does that mean?”

She looks at me as if I’m a dim-witted child. “You think that’s funny? How do you think he knows so much? He has people watching everyone.”

“Bishop Schrock?” I offer another laugh, unapologetic, at her expense. “No offense, but that sounds paranoid.”

“Let me tell you something Kate-from-Ohio: It pays to be paranoid around here.”

“If that’s the case, why does everyone speak so highly of him?”

She gives me a withering look. “Because they’re scared shitless.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“I’m not afraid of anyone,” she fires back.

“Even after what happened to Rachel?”

Her eyes skate away from mine, blinking, as if she doesn’t know what to say. She recovers quickly. Dropping the cigarette on the ground, she crushes it with her sneaker. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Wait and I’ll walk in with you.”

“Fuck off.”

She brushes past me and stalks inside without looking back.

*   *   *

Marie is nowhere in sight when I pick up my sandwich at the counter. I go to a corner booth and eat it without pleasure, all the while my mind running through the odd conversation.

He has people watching everyone.