Chapter Thirty-Six
With every hour that passes without a sign of Sarah Greene, Midge is running out of benign scenarios for her continued absence.
She could have taken a different route heading home—say, a shortcut through the woods. Maybe she got lost. Maybe she passed out from the heat, hit her head. Far-fetched, but it could happen.
More likely, though, she never left the building. She’d have been hot and tired when she got there. If she knew the door code, she’d have let herself in to get some water or take a rest out of the hot sun.
Then what? She accidentally got locked in a closet? In the building? Wouldn’t she have heard Al or the pastor or the repairmen and called for help?
Maybe she fell asleep or was somehow injured and incapacitated. Maybe she’s still lying there.
The only way to find out is to go back over to Congregational to look around, and Midge would prefer not to wait for a warrant.
She finds the church website and dials the office number.
It rings into a robotic voicemail.
She hangs up. Now what?
She can try to track down the custodian, Al, but she doesn’t have a last name. He’s local, and she can probably make a couple of phone calls to figure out who he is, but it would probably be quicker to find the temporary pastor, Joseph Nielson. With luck, he’s already there, or on his way.
She plugs his name into the search engine.
Unfortunately, there are a lot of Joseph Nielsons in the world.
There are nearly as many in the state, when she adds New York to the search terms.
He mentioned he was from a church in a neighboring county, but she doesn’t know which one.
She scrolls through the first few entries, but this is getting her nowhere. She goes back to the search window to include the words Reverend and Pastor.
Bingo!
Joseph Nielson is a pastor at a congregational church in Monticello. That’s in Sullivan County, which is right next door to Ulster County.
Midge clicks on the website, only to encounter a headshot of a smiling, bespectacled elderly man.
Wrong Joseph Nielson.
With a sigh, she backs out of the website and scrolls on until it occurs to her that his name might be spelled Neilson. Or what if it’s Nielsen? Or Nealson?
This could take all day.
She redials Congregational, hoping someone will pick up this time.
Voicemail again.
She hangs up without leaving a message, grabs her keys, and heads for the door.