I scanned the scene. No, the church was fine. Not just the church but the entire sprawling complex, including two wings and a small outbuilding, all filled with classrooms, meeting rooms, and the multiple rehearsal rooms for New Life’s nationally renowned gospel choir. The floodlit façade was serene and unmarred by any signs of a conflagration.

I pulled into a parking space toward the side of the lot, about twenty feet from the ambulance, and close to where Michael and the other firefighters had parked. I was aiming to be far enough away that I wouldn’t be underfoot, but close enough that I might overhear what was going on. And my chosen spot was partly behind one of the mountains of snow that the snowplows had piled up, so maybe the firefighters wouldn’t notice me quite as easily.

As I turned the engine off, I saw a particularly tall fireman detach himself from the group around the ambulance and stride over toward my car. So much for my attempt to stay unnoticed. I braced myself to defend my right to rubberneck, and then relaxed. It was Michael. I opened the door and stepped out.

“The good news is there’s no fire,” he said.

“What’s the bad— Oh, gross!”

The wind had shifted, bringing with it an unmistakable odor, like garlic, rotten eggs, and burned rubber all mixed together.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

“Yes. The church has been skunked.”

Chapter 2

“Skunked?” came a voice from nearby. I glanced over to see that I wasn’t the only spectator. I’d assumed the other cars in the lot belonged to the firefighters, but in several of them I could see people huddled, with their motors still running, trying to keep warm. Other spectators who were more hardy—or perhaps, like me, had taken the time to dress for the weather before coming out—stood by their cars, talking in twos or threes as they stared at the church. It was one of those groups that had overheard Michael’s words.

“It appears so,” Michael said. “No fire, and no apparent damage to the church, but the stench is awful.”

The group passed his words down to the next group, and soon the entire crowd was buzzing.

Just who were these spectators? Members of the New Life Baptist congregation? Worried relatives of other new firefighters? Surely not just curious bystanders drawn by the sirens—not at four thirty on a cold morning like this.

I could see another car turning into the parking lot, and more headlights farther down the road.

“What’s happening over there?” I pointed to the crowd around the ambulance.

“The guy who found the skunks,” Michael said. “Apparently one of them sprayed him right in the eyes and—oh, here’s your father. Good—the EMTs don’t have a lot of experience with skunk attacks.”