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Chapters (61)
  1. Rake
  2. Dedication
  3. Book Description
  4. Praise For Helen Hardt
  5. Also By Helen Hardt
  6. Warning
  7. Prologue
  8. Zee
  9. Reid
  10. Zee
  11. Reid
  12. Zee
  13. Reid
  14. Zee
  15. Reid
  16. Zee
  17. Reid
  18. Zee
  19. Reid
  20. Zee
  21. Reid
  22. Zee
  23. Reid
  24. Zee
  25. Reid
  26. Zee
  27. Reid
  28. Zee
  29. Reid
  30. Zee
  31. Reid
  32. Zee
  33. Reid
  34. Zee
  35. Reid
  36. Zee
  37. Reid
  38. Zee
  39. Reid
  40. Zee
  41. Reid
  42. Zee
  43. Reid
  44. Zee
  45. Reid
  46. Zee
  47. Reid
  48. Zee
  49. Reid
  50. Zee
  51. Reid
  52. Zee
  53. Reid
  54. Zee
  55. Reid
  56. Zee
  57. Reid
  58. Zee
  59. A Note From Helen
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author

“Yes. All right.”

Rustling met my ears. She was leaving the rose garden. It would take her a few minutes to get off church property and back to the street. There was a Starbucks nearby. She could go there.

“Do you see the Starbucks?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Go there. Have a seat inside. The driver will be there as soon as possible. Stay on the phone.”

“I am.”

I left the office quickly, yelled at Terrence to make sure Wayne was waiting for me downstairs, and pounded on the elevator button until the doors split before me.

“Reid?”

“I’m here, Zee. Just stay at the Starbucks.”

“Okay.” Her voice didn’t tremble as much now. Good.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I ran out through the lobby to the waiting car. “The Starbucks by St. Andrew’s,” I said to Wayne. “Hurry.”

Hurry. Yeah, in Manhattan traffic.

“You still okay?” I asked Zee.

“Yeah.”

“Get yourself some tea or something.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want anything. Especially not tea.”

“Oh?”

“The priest. He offered me tea.”

“The priest?” Damn. Had she actually talked to Father Jim?

“Yes, he was nice, but he scared me.”

“Father Jim?” I demanded.

“No. The other one.”

There was another one? How would I know? I wasn’t exactly a churchgoer, and I’d never set foot in St. Andrew’s again, now that I knew what Father Jim was all about. Sitting through my father’s memorial and listening to the priest sing his praises had been about all I could handle.

“You’re safe now,” I said, trying to sound soothing when my nerves were a fucking mess.

“I know.” Her voice was monotone.

Hurry, Wayne. For God’s sake, hurry!

Twenty minutes to go a couple blocks. Fucking crazy shit. I should have walked. In fact—

“Stop,” I said. “I’m getting out. Meet me at the Starbucks.”

Wayne nodded as I wrenched open the car door and sprinted the last block to Starbucks.

Zee sat at a table outside, her phone still glued to her ear, her left hand clenched in a fist. She gasped when she saw me.

“Are you all right?” I panted.

“Yeah. I am now. When you stopped talking, I…”

“Never mind. I’m here now. Wayne will be here in a few minutes and we’ll drive back to the office.” I sat down next to her. “Zee, why did you go to St. Andrew’s?”

She stuffed her phone into her purse. “I’m not really sure.”

“Tell me.”

“I was thinking about when I was younger. You know, before…everything.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

“There was a pastor at home I used to talk to sometimes. He always made me feel better.”

A pastor? Did she know there were dozens of other churches around? Churches that weren’t St. Andrew’s? “Why that church?”

“It was the only one I knew.”

“Zee…”