Fake Me To Church

Chapter 15.2 - Easy Like Sunday Morning

- STEVEN -

I waited in my seat inside the sanctuary until I could tell Dad was finishing up his sermon.

He was standing behind the podium, his hand on his Bible like it always was when service was coming to an end. No walking, no wild hand gestures—just standing still and talking fervently at the crowd. I had to give him credit; he was a good speaker, albeit a predictable one.

I stole a glance left, then right, then left again. I stood as subtly as I could, sidestepping to the right.

"Steven?" Ahmed's voice was a whisper. "Steven, wher're you—?"

"There's something I gotta do," was the only explanation I gave before tiptoeing along the wall, making soft strides to the sanctuary exit. I kept my eyes on Dad as I walked. His body faced the pews stationed opposite from where I'd been sitting only moments before, and he didn't step foot out from behind that podium.

When I made it outside, I stopped tiptoeing and cut straight for the kitchen—for the outreach and hospitality coordinator I just knew would be there.

"Charity," I called to her from the doorway. She was bent over the silver-plated sink and looked to be scrubbing a set of black and gray pots. She looked up the moment I spoke.

"Why hello, Steven. How are you?" She gently placed the pots in the bottom of the sink and turned off the faucet, then slid the blue rubber gloves from her hands. She walked over to me, reached out to touch my shoulder.

"Hands off," I ordered, grasping her hand inside my own and holding it firmly. "Why were you at the cemetery last night?"

Her eyes grew grave; she drew back. I loosened my grip on her hand, and she pulled it away.

"Hello!?" I yelled. "I asked you a question!"

"I was praying," she said meekly.

"At three a.m.? With a candle?" I crossed my arms. "Charity, I saw you kneel down next to a tombstone. Why? Whose grave was that?"

Her gaze fell, as did her voice. "It was no one you know."

"Try me," I pressed, taking a menacing step closer.

"Ruby," she whispered. "Ruby Densett."

I felt a chill surge up my spine. "W-what? You knew her?"

Charity nodded.

"Well, what happened? How'd she die?"

"No one knew," Charity replied wistfully. "Police found her body; it'd been left hanging on a swing set in a neighborhood park. But...what was truly horrifying was that it was only four days after they'd declared another missing girl dead."

"Who?" I felt my breath getting heavier. "Wh-who was it?"

"Her name was Lane...and I did know her."

What? "How?"

"I met her one night, long ago. She...she needed help."

I paused. "Is that why you're here?"

Her look morphed into one of deep confusion. "What? What do you mean?"

"I know you're friends with the Deputy Commissioner's wife. Are you...part of her mission? Part of this case? Is that why you came to EdgeWay?"

Charity closed her eyes, kept them shut for several moments. When they finally opened, she smiled.

"I came to EdgeWay," she began, "because God sent me. And Prudence came to EdgeWay because God sent her too. He sent us for you, Steven. And for Marcus."