Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Eden
Wednesday kicked off nearly as chaotic as the day before, but the flow of shoppers slowed to a steady trickle after that.
In honor of my birthday plans, Addie had insisted she’d be taking over for me halfway through Thursday as part of my gift so I could go home to Milo and relax before dinner with his family that evening.
After Milo ascertained that a bigger crowd wasn’t a dealbreaker for me, Terry had invited Addie, Rob, and their parents, who would all be joining us. Needless to say, I’d never experienced any kind of “merging the families” moment in my entire life, and I was nervous as hell.
Only the promise of having Milo by my side the entire night soothed my anxiety.
While Addie and I were rushing around to take care of the continual stream of customers—most of whom had fortunately stopped asking if Milo was going to recover—Terry was scheduled to bring Milo over to Dueling Dragons for his meeting with Rob around lunchtime.
“I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I hope things quiet down soon,” I muttered as soon as I had a moment to breathe between customers.
“Why don’t you go take a break while we’ve got a lull, babe? I’ll shout if I need you.”
Gratefully, I took her up on the offer and retreated to the breakroom for a few minutes of blissful silence, shutting the door behind me.
There was no time to waste.
Flipping open my laptop on the table, I pulled up the website for the Cortland branch of the Church of Eternal Light. Without giving myself the opportunity to chicken out, I dialed the number at the bottom and lifted my phone to my ear.
“You’ve reached Pastor Baumgartner. How may I help you?”
My stomach bottomed out under the boom of his voice, then I pulled myself together and said, “Right, hi. My name is Eden Campbell. I just wondered if—”
He cut in before I could finish, surprise coloring his voice over the line. “Campbell? Is this Isaiah’s sister?”
I froze solid, my blood running ice cold at the realization that he knew who I was. For a second, I couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, nevermind a response, but it didn’t matter anyway when he continued speaking.
“Eden,” he said gently, “I doubt you remember me, but I attended your parents’ church in Binghamton briefly, back when I’d just started my training. You were maybe nine or ten at the time.”
“Oh.”
That was a period of time I’d rather forget. I was aware enough to start recognizing the wrongness of my own experiences without being old enough to do anything about it.
Baumgartner huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’d never seen a child so solemn. I offered you a butterscotch candy and your father stepped in front of you like I was handing you poison. I never forgot that moment.”
Memories filtered in, hazy and dim after decades of neglect.
Without his reminder, I probably never would have summoned up the recollection of that day, but there it was.
A relatively young visiting pastor in his thirties or forties, the golden wrapper in his hand, my father’s stern rebuke—telling him I didn’t deserve the treat, no doubt.
I tried to remember what was said, if my father had detailed my recent sins to this stranger, but the truth was that it was only one of many such moments.
Eighteen years full of them.
“I tried to keep track of you after I moved,” Baumgartner said quietly, “to be sure they weren’t hurting you. Bishop Graap refused to consider such a thing and swore they were good, upstanding members of his church, but…I still recall the way you flinched when your father spoke.”
After a shuddering breath, I said, “I’d forgotten all about it, but I remember you.”
“I should have done more for you, Eden. I hope you’ll accept my sincerest apologies that I held my tongue.”
“I…thank you. I’m not really sure what more you could’ve done.”
He made a noise of disagreement. “I hoped I’d see you again at your brother’s ordination, but your parents shut down any mention of you.”
I hesitated, then said, “You know him well, then? Isaiah?”
“We see each other at regional events, church meetings, that kind of thing.” After a beat of silence, he said, “He’s not like your parents, Eden. He’s a good man, a good father.”
I sucked in a breath that I was sure he heard over the line. “I’m glad to hear it. That’s not why I’m calling, though. I had a couple questions. There’s been a situation here.”
“Of course. How can I help?”
Biting my lip, I decided to lay it out as quickly and concisely as possible. “Someone is threatening a man who means a great deal to me. She used a car stolen from your church.”
“Sandra,” he said immediately. “Sandra Billings.”
Some memory tried to surface, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. “Who is she?”
“She was the church secretary here for several years. I reported the car missing when she disappeared, along with several weeks’ worth of offering plate envelopes.”
“So she was living in Cortland?” I said, frowning down at the breakroom table.
“Yes. I spoke to the police in Spruce Hill when the car was found. Is that where you are now?”
My thoughts drifted to that photo of my niece, looking as haunted as ten-year-old me must have looked to Pastor Baumgartner. When I didn’t reply, Baumgartner called my name, sounding concerned.
“Yes, I’m in Spruce Hill. Does Sandra have any children?”
“No, I don’t believe she ever married. Eden, what’s going on?”
I wrinkled my nose as I debated the answer. “I don’t know. We need to find Sandra Billings as quickly as possible, though. Do you have any idea where she’d go if she needed a place to lay low?”
Baumgartner went silent for a second before saying, “Maybe, but I think I should get that information to the police.”
“Yes, you should,” I agreed quickly, already typing a search into my laptop as an idea popped into my head.
I held my breath as the results loaded, including an article regarding the church’s purchase of an old warehouse along route 104, maybe half an hour east of Spruce Hill. There was no address listed, but a few clicks led me to two potential properties, both sold in the past six months.
Bingo.
“Eden.”
The word was a warning, one I ignored even though some deep, hidden part of my psyche warmed at the thought of this stranger’s concern for my safety—twenty years ago and now.
I couldn’t leave this to the police. Milo had almost died and might still be in danger, and I knew intimately how twisted some of the church’s teachings could get inside someone’s head.
I’d learned that well before the first time I met Pastor Baumgartner.
“Thank you for speaking with me, Pastor. I really do appreciate your help.”
“Eden, please don’t do anything that might put you in harm’s way,” he pleaded.
“Of course,” I agreed, the lie tripping off my tongue with only a tiny twinge of guilt. “Thank you again.”
I ended the call before he could push any harder. With my luck, he’d immediately contact Chief Roberts and my advantage would be lost. I needed to hurry if I had any chance to act on the information before someone showed up to stop me.
No one else would be hurt by this. Not if I had anything to say about it.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I grabbed my coat and peeked out into the shop. There was only a lone shopper browsing the racks.
Addie caught sight of me and lifted her brows. “Going somewhere?”
“I just need to run out. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Sure, things are slow enough now,” Addie said easily, but her expression turned suspicious. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll explain when I get back. I’ll be as quick as I can. Thanks, Addie!”
Snow was just starting to fall as I slipped out the front door and headed to my car.
I saw Rob’s truck parked around the corner and carefully avoided looking toward Dueling Dragons when I drove past, though they wouldn’t be able to see me through the boards now covering the front wall of the store where the windows had blown out.
The rush of finally deciding what to do next kept me going as I drove toward the lake and turned right on Route 104. I could just barely make out the rotating light of the Spruce Hill lighthouse, flashing through the snow, as I followed the road east along Lake Ontario at the northern edge of town.
The two possible warehouse options were only ten minutes from one another. I’d just scope them both out for signs of life, then try to figure out how to talk sense into someone like Sandra Billings.
I was halfway to my first stop when recognition hit me so fast I swerved into the other lane, wrestling against the slick road and my own adrenaline to straighten out the car again.
“Holy shit. Billings,” I whispered, my breath a faint plume in the cold inside my car.
Mary Billings was the name of Isaiah’s wife. If she’d taken our last name when they got married all those years ago, as the church decreed, Pastor Baumgartner wouldn’t have made that connection.
Sisters.
Oh my god.
Over and over, realizations pummeled my chest like hailstones until I was hyperventilating.
The girl at the door that night had to be my niece—no longer the somber, dark-haired child in the photo, but a teenager with access to blonde dye.
If she was in town, her mother must have been in on it.
Christ, I hoped Isaiah’s wife was the passenger who’d thrown the brick through Milo’s window and they hadn’t made the poor kid do it.
Did Isaiah know what was going on? I’d finally convinced myself he wasn’t involved in any of this, especially when it became clear Milo was the target, but now…I couldn’t be sure.
No matter who was behind it all, I would do everything in my power to protect those I loved, my niece included.
Milo’s life wasn’t the only one at stake. Failure was out of the question.