“How often does that happen?”
The parsonage, where she lived, was several miles away from the parish house, where meetings and business were conducted, so she couldn’t give a precise answer.
“Felipe used to keep watch. He and his family lived in an apartment on the top floor of the parish house. But they bought a house and moved out about six months ago, so I don’t really know. Since the building’s in nearly constant use, no one was concerned.”
“Well, somebody’s using it right now.”
“I’ll check.”
“I’m coming with you.”
She could imagine the fallout if the police confronted the council president as he was picking up his mail or typing up meeting notes. But in the unlikely case there was a problem, Ethan’s company would be appreciated.
“Let’s do it quickly so you can go home.” This time he didn’t stop her when she opened the door.
She had keys to every door in the building, and once they neared the parish house she held up a heavy key ring. She kept her voice low. “Call me Hagrid of Hogwarts.”
“Is there a light switch by the door?”
She tried to remember. Usually the building was populated and well lit when she arrived. “To the right, I think. We’ll be entering through a small activity room, then once we’re through that, there’s a hallway. Offices to the left, stairs on the right to the next two floors, and a parlor and more meeting rooms beyond the stairs. If somebody is here who isn’t supposed to be, it’s going to be hard to track them down. There are a lot of places to hide.”
“Just listen once we’re in.”
She found the right key, having learned at the beginning of her ministry that tagging them was essential. The master key didn’t always work and never worked on this door because the lock was decrepit. Her pleas for a replacement had been ignored.
She put the key in the lock and jiggled it carefully, sliding it out a bit, sliding it in farther until she heard the lock pop.
“Is the door always that hard to open?” he asked.
“Welcome to my world.” She pushed the door wide and stepped inside, flipping on the light immediately. Ethan was right behind her, and together they blinked at the sudden glare, but the room was empty.
“We’ll check the downstairs first,” he said.
“I imagine whoever you saw will shortly arrive to announce themselves.”
They crossed the room and moved into the hallway. No lights were visible except the one behind them. Analiese had expected otherwise.
She was trying to figure out which direction to try first when she heard a noise. She immediately pinpointed the source. There was a single restroom immediately outside her office door, but on the rare occasion it was in use, she, like everyone else, had to walk down the hall to use the one in the hallway where they stood. Now as someone pushed it open she recognized the peculiar squeaking of the door. She whirled just in time to see the slight figure of a girl emerge.
When she saw Analiese and Ethan the girl let out a screech, and before the sound could die away, she took off in the other direction, sneakers thumping, long braid flying out behind her.
Without even a second’s hesitation, Ethan followed.
ANALIESE SUPPOSED THE family had waited until dark to set up their small encampment. She and Ethan hadn’t seen the tent from the staff parking lot, and it was so perfectly tucked into the space between the parish house and the shrubs disguising the back door into the Academy that she doubted it was visible from any angle.
Now, however, standing nearly on top of it, the tent was in plain sight, as was the small family staring back at her. The girl they had confronted stood directly in front of the others, but even though they were only dimly lit by the building’s security lighting, Analiese could see a younger boy, and two adults who were probably the mother and father.
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” Analiese said, getting that out of the way immediately. “But you startled us. How did you get in?”
The girl glared and didn’t answer. Analiese could see her well enough to note she hadn’t yet moved beyond the gawky phase of early adolescence. Her long hair was wet, as if she might have just washed it in the sink, but it looked to be brown. Her face was heart-shaped, and she had a small, Kewpie-doll mouth with lips turned down in dislike. She was too thin, and she hadn’t yet grown into features that might someday come together nicely.
“I’m sorry.” The man stepped forward to stand beside the girl. “We mean no harm. Shiloh here had to use the restroom, and the door—” He gestured to his right. “Well, somebody didn’t lock it. I guess it was wrong to go in, but we made sure to clean up after we did.”
“Why are you here?” Ethan stood beside Analiese, but not to protect her. Analiese knew he saw what she did. If these people were a danger to anybody, it was only to themselves.
This time the girl answered. “We just needed a place to spend the night.”
“Why did you choose this place?” he asked.
The woman behind them began to cough. Analiese was no judge, but to her ears, the cough sounded both painful and debilitating. Nobody spoke until the cough died away, and by then Analiese suspected Ethan had his answer.
“Your wife is sick?” she asked the man.
“She’s all right. We have cough medicine,” the girl answered for him.
“Has she seen a doctor?”
The girl answered again. “We’re taking care of her.”
“Your name is Shiloh?” Analiese asked, then went on before the girl answered. “You didn’t have a better place to stay tonight? I can’t help but think your mother won’t get better sleeping in a tent. The temperature’s dropping.”
“She’ll sleep in the car,” Shiloh said. “That’s why we need the tent. And we aren’t hurting anybody. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
They were hurting her. Analiese could feel their pain, their helplessness, their fears. Nobody set up a tent on the grounds of a church in late November because camping out sounded like fun.
“Why don’t you pack up the tent and I’ll take you to a motel for the night?” Ethan said. “My treat. It will be warm, and we’ll buy some food on the way.”
“We’ve eaten, thanks,” the man said. “And we couldn’t trouble you that way.”
“It would be no trouble,” Ethan said. “You’re not in a good situation here.”
The man didn’t hesitate. “It wouldn’t be right to take your money that way.”
Analiese heard resolve and something else in his voice. The man was at his wit’s end. She recognized that. The only thing he could hold on to was a shred of pride that told him taking another man’s offer of charity, a man who had clearly done better with his own life, would destroy him.
She extended her hand to him. “I’m sorry. We didn’t introduce ourselves. My name is Analiese Wagner, and this is Ethan Martin. I’m the minister here. And you are?”
His handshake was tentative and trembling. She wondered how much he’d had to eat. “Herman Fowler. Everybody calls me Man.”
“And you’re Shiloh?” She turned, hand still extended.
The girl looked at her, looked at her hand, looked back up at Analiese’s face, then, with reluctance, gave a quick handshake.
“And