I hit a button on the stereo, and said, “Call Adam.” Sherwood and I listened to his phone ring. When the voice mail picked up, I said, “Someone attacked slash kidnapped my pastor, and I’m heading to the church right now. It is eleven fifty-four.” I disconnected. Whom to call? Ben and Paul were home with Jesse and Aiden.

“Call Honey,” I said. And got her answering machine. I didn’t leave a message. “Call George.” Another answering machine. I pounded a fist on the steering wheel. “What the heck good does it do me to be a pack member when there’s never anyone home?”

“I do not understand ‘what the heck good,’” said the stereo. “Please say a command. Some commands you might find useful are ‘call’ or ‘search address book.’”

I growled, then said, “Call Mary Jo.”

She picked up immediately. “Hey, Mercy,” she said, her voice wary.

“I need you to gather anyone you can find who is not guarding the house,” I told her, “and bring them to the Good Shepherd on Bonnie.” I gave her terse directions because it was hard to find, even with the address.

“Got it,” she said.

I hit the END CALL button and settled in to drive.

“I’m not much good in a fight,” said Sherwood tightly. “My leg.”

“You can pick up a three-hundred-pound bar of steel, you can fight,” I told him, not looking away from the road. I was driving too fast, and I didn’t want to hit anyone.

There was a pause.

“I guess that is so,” he said, like it was a revelation. “Okay.”

The church was small. It had been a house that someone converted into a church about twenty years ago. It was tucked unobtrusively into the most mazelike section of Kennewick, a little residential area on the north side of the railroad that ran along the Columbia. There were only two ways in or out, one on the far east side, one on the west. The east-side entrance was the easiest to navigate.

The church grounds backed up to the railway, and between a couple of empty lots and the parking lot, it was half a block from the nearest house. There were two cars in the lot, parked next to the handicap parking. One of them was Pastor White’s. The other was a Ford Explorer that had seen better days.