- STEVEN -

Sam sprinted up the hallway to where I was, and I slid the sanctuary doors open just enough to squeeze through. I kept the door cracked slightly to see my dad walk in at the church's front, then hurry up the hall to his office, passing the area where I'd been standing mere moments before.

"Sam, you're not gonna believe what I just heard," I whispered to him as Landon opened the door to greet my dad. "I think I know why Marissa was murdered. She did way more than just preside over that case against Lane. She was—"

"LANDON!"

I jumped instinctively, shivering as I turned to peek between the crack in the sanctuary doors to where my father stood outraged in the hallway. Landon was in front of my father, and he bowed his head in shame; to his left, Charity stood unflinching.

"What is the meaning of this!?" my father raged.

"Marcus, it's...I had to call her. She needs to know; she has a right to."

Dad turned to Charity. "Get out of this church. Now."

"Well," Charity replied, "this certainly feels familiar. I recall being thrown out of EdgeWay once before. How little I knew of you back then."

Dad folded his arms, eyes narrowing. "And just what is it that you think you know now?"

"That you're scared. That you're in danger." She took a single, fearless step forward. "That Lane Martin is still alive."

Landon's mouth fell agape.

"Landon told me about you and Marissa, Marcus. And that's when everything finally clicked."

"Clicked?" my father laughed. "Charity, what are you on about? This isn't some Saturday-morning cartoon—"

"You're right," she mused. "And what you did to that poor girl is something too horrible to ignore."

"I'm not sure what you're insinuating—"

"Then let me be abundantly clear, Marcus," Charity fired back. "I met Lane Martin. I knew her. I loved her. But the night I found her, the one thing I could never figure out was the tiniest pieces of red hair I found under her nails." Charity took three steps backward, placed her hand on the door to my dad's office. "How many people have a key to this room?" she asked.

"That's none of your business!"

"Oh, but it is," Charity spoke up. "In fact, I think we all deserve to know what happened here."

"You listen to me—"

"No, Marcus," Charity's voice took on an edge I'd never known possible. "You listen to me! You are a pastor! An agent of God! But you've abused His name so cruelly; you've disrespected His every mercy—His inexhaustible forgiveness! You've lied and cheated and stolen from His people!" She exhaled, gave a long pause. "Repent, Marcus. For the wrath of God is upon you."

Dad stepped closer to Charity, staring down at her imposingly. "You dare condescend to me. IN MY OWN CHURCH!"

"EdgeWay may be yours," Charity answered evenly, standing her ground, "but this is not a church."

ZZZING! ZZING! ZZING! My leg began to buzz.

"Crap!" I whispered, fishing my phone from my pocket and clicking Ignore.

Dad whirled around to face the sanctuary. "Who's there?"

"Sam, we've gotta get out—"

The doors flew open, hallway light raining into the sanctuary.

"Steven!?" my father screamed. "What are you doing here!?"

"Dad, listen—"

"Have you been...standing here this entire time!?"

"Dad, I was...I, um...." I lowered my head, but Sam stood to meet my father's gaze.

"Yes, Marcus," Sam spoke up. "We have been standing here this entire time."

"I'm calling the police," Dad began.

"Call them then!" Sam screamed. "And why don't you tell them about how you chased down a twelve-year-old girl in the middle of the night!?"

"Or maybe," Charity added, "you could tell them about how you raped and brutally attacked that twelve-year-old girl, then buried all the evidence."

Sam gasped. "You raped her? YOU SON OF A—!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" My father raised his hand for silence. "All of you—I want you out of this church right now."

Sam tackled Dad to the floor. "YOU LYING PIECE OF SH—"

"Sam, stop it!" Charity cried. "It's not worth it!"

Landon caught Sam's raised fist, and I secured my arms around his shoulders. "Dude, take it easy!" I tried.

Landon and I finally managed to pull Sam to his feet and away from my dad, Charity looking on with wide eyes all the while.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" Sam screamed. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

"Sam, come on," I begged as he yanked against my and Landon's restraint.

"WHERE IS SHE!?" Sam demanded. "TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"

Still low to the ground, my dad shook his head, swiped at his eyes. "I don't know..." his voice finally broke.

Are those...tears?

"I never found her." He cleared his throat, stood to his feet.

"Dad," I tremored. "Please...tell me it's not true. You didn't seriously rape that girl..."

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"

"Well, it certainly wasn't Lane's fault!" Charity spoke up. "Unless...is it Evelyn? Is she the one you blame?"

Dad shivered. "A man can only take so much, Charity."

Charity's eyebrows arched angrily. "Marcus, she had nothing but respect for you!"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" My father raged. "You don't know the first thing about us, about our family!"

I felt ice shoot through my veins. Where is this coming from?

"I know that she respected you; she loved you, Marcus. And this is how you chose to repay her!?"

Dad sighed. "It wasn't my idea...it was Glenn's. I didn't choose this. But everything—it just got so out of control."

"Dad, what do you mean?" I felt my voice shaking. "What did Mom ever do to—"

"Cameron," he answered lowly. "I prayed for so long that...that I would have a son. Someone to continue on, to carry our family forward—my child, my descendant, my future..."

Charity stepped closer to me.

"But he refused. He hated this church, hated everything about it. And Evelyn...she agreed with him." Dad sighed. "He started acting out in school, got sent to the principal's office more times than I could count. Finally, they caught him with...things in his locker; and nothing I could say could save him from getting expelled. But that's just what he wanted—he started seventh grade at Haven Academy, Steven, before you even made it to the kindergarten.

"I refused to pay his tuition, refused to let him force me to finance him fleeing the church. But your mother...she paid for him. And nothing I could say would make her stop."

"Dad, Cam's your son. Shouldn't it've—"

"SILENCE!" he yelled. "Evelyn's betrayal was a slap in the face! Another hard, stinging slap to my face!"

What?

"Still, your mother wouldn't see the light. And she wouldn't...be with me...for almost a year."

I gulped. "And that's the same year Ruby went missing, isn't it? The same year Lane made it to seventh grade...the same year she vanished."

My father simply stared at me, darkness in his eyes.

"And what about Marissa?" I was almost in tears now. "I know you had that file on her, but...why? How did you two even get tangled up in the first place."

Dad chuckled bitterly. "Marissa? Oh, what a hypocrite she was."

"Well, to hear her tell the story," I said tentatively, "you forced her into it."

"But of course," Dad breathed. "What other story could she tell?" He paced closer to me. "Marissa was a liar and a whore. She and her live-in boyfriend had fallen on hard times, and she came to me. She cried some sob story about being out of money, and she begged for a job at the church. I've spent many days wondering how much simpler things would've been if I'd just said no.

"But I gave her the job. A while later, she came to me about having seen Glenn and some little girl after a basketball game. I told her I'd take care of it, but she threatened to involve the police. She couldn't see that Glenn was a good man, Steven. He just needed some help; Marissa wasn't the only one struggling. Glenn was going through a divorce, and I couldn't sit by while a police investigation ruined his life!"

"Ruined his life? Dad, what do you call raping a twelve-year-old and leaving her body to rot on a swing set?"

"Things got out of control, Steven; and I know that. But Marissa's hands weren't clean either. She liked to parade around and pretend like she was just doing what she was told, but she despised Ruby—and Lane! She put Georgiana in a hospital! She hated the fact that such pretty little girls could have the world wrapped around their fingers, and she had no remorse! For anything!"

"That may be true, Marcus," Landon spoke up for the first time. "But she was scared too. All of us were. Scared that what we'd done might get out. And you held that over us!"

"YOU DON'T THINK I WAS SCARED!?" Dad screamed back at him. "I was terrified that someone might find out what Glenn did to Ruby. He was my friend! I had to protect him! So yes, Landon, I did force you and Marissa to help me. But that doesn't mean I wanted to—"

"You're lying," I whispered.

Dad froze, turned to me, glared. "What did you just say?"

"I SAID YOU'RE A LIAR! I KNOW YOU ARE!"

"Steven..."

"It wasn't just Ruby! You and Glenn raped Lane too! What're you gonna say about that—that Glenn just 'needed some help!?' You forced yourself on a seventh grader!"

"Steven!"

"No, Dad! Don't you dare try to justify this!" I felt my breathing grow wilder, more desperate. "All these years, you've been barking down my throat about morality and the duty of a man of God—and this whole time, you were hiding what you did to a...a child!?"

"Steven, I'm not that person anymore—"

"YES, YOU ARE! You're still covering it up! Still sneaking, still lying—still running away from responsibility for anything you've done! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!?"

"Steven, listen to me! I had to keep it quiet—I can't just abandon this church! If this ever got out, EdgeWay would fold! My people need their shepherd...and I need my son." He got closer, rested both arms on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "Please, Steven...I couldn't let Lane Martin destroy this family."

"...Well, it's too late." I sniffled, my eyes finally finding tears. "This family's dead."

"Son, that's not true..."

I shook my head. "Come on, Sam." I gave pause, exhaled a hushed breath. "I think we should go."

****

In retrospect, I was glad we had opted to take Sam's car. I could barely move, let alone drive after everything I'd just heard. If I'm being completely honest, I'm not sure what I was feeling in that moment.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be outraged beyond belief that my father was such a liar, that the things Grace and Marissa and Irina had said could possibly be true about him—that they were true about him.

I needed to be strong. I needed to tell myself that I would make it through this, that somehow, I would survive the world as it fell to pieces around me. I had to find some semblance of strength and fortitude, yet it so soundly escaped me.

I should have been scared. I should have feared for my life that whoever had broken into my house and stabbed me would return, and this time to finish the job.

But angry, strong, scared—I was none of these.

I guess a psychiatrist might have told me that I was confused, that I hadn't had enough time to process everything; but even that couldn't quite define what I was feeling because really, I wasn't confused. For the first time in my life, I finally knew the truth. About everything. I knew what my father had done, what Marissa had done, what Landon had done.

I knew Lane was alive—she had to be. But where? Where was she hiding? Was she pretending to be someone we knew...someone I knew?

"Mind if we stop for coffee?" Sam's low, gravelly growl shook me back to the present. I could tell he was trying his best not to slam his fist against the window as we drove down the highway.

"Sure," I breathed. "I could use some." I glanced down at my pocket as I felt it buzz again, then reached inside to retrieve my phone.

My eyes popped when I spotted the screen. "Dylan," I mused.

"Dylan?" Sam puzzled.

"The phone call, the one that I got in the church. It was Dylan...he finally called me back."

"Wait, who's Dylan?"

"He's..." I faltered. "He's my friend. My best friend." I sighed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

I hung my head. "It's...I blew up at him over something stupid. And it...it was all my fault."

Sam paused, his voice softening for the first time since we'd left the church. "I know the feeling, dude."

I looked up, and he was staring straight at me.

"Look, we're almost to the coffee shop," he offered. "Once we make it there, I'll head inside, give you some time." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "You should call him back, Steven."

"Yeah." I nodded slowly.

We pulled into the lot surrounding the coffee shop a few minutes later, and Sam parked the car and got out to walk inside.

I swallowed hard, felt fear creep up my throat. Here goes nothing. I lifted my gaze to the windshield, resolving to press Call after drawing one last deep breath.

But then I saw something—someone—through the window.

Cam?

Though street lights glared in reflection off the building's clear glass frame, there was no mistaking it—that was my brother, seated across the table from a thin blond woman. She sat daintily with her shoulders turned inward, and her hair overlaid her face such that only the tiniest curve of her lips was visible.

What the heck? What is he doing?

I slid my phone back into my pocket, then climbed out of Sam's car and ran inside.

Sam stood solitarily at the front of the line, reciting his order to the barista. "Hazelnut roast, please," I heard him say.

I turned left almost immediately, prepared to race to where Cam was sitting when—

"Sorry, we're closed." A hand circled my arm, pulling me backwards.

I turned around. "Dude, what the—Carl?"

Before me stood Carl Finnish, wearing full coffeehouse attire and clutching a broom in his other hand.

"You work here?"

"Yes, Steven, I do work here. And it's time for you to go."

"Wha—dude, what are you talking about? The sign says you guys don't close for another forty-five..."

"We're closed, prick. Now beat it."

"Carl, are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious!"

"I just came to get coffee—!" Suddenly, I trailed off, my eyes drifting over to where Cam sat, where the blond girl he was smiling at stood to her feet.

"So you're just gonna leave like that?" I could faintly hear Cam ask her. "Without telling me your name."

"Steven, I said go!" Carl's voice was louder this time; but I ignored it, fixated on the blond, on her strikingly familiar gait.

As she departed, she spoke over her shoulder: "Alice—call me Alice." She shoved through the door in front of her and strode, turning around only briefly seconds later.

And that's when it hit me.

That's when I finally caught a glimpse of her face, and she of mine. That's when it all made sense, when I realized why Marissa'd gone to Molding the Way in the middle of the night—and why no trace whatsoever had been found in that apartment.

As that bright-blond temptress twisted a tiny index finger through her cascading hair, everything at last fell into place.

I felt my jaw fall to the floor, felt it drop wide with the sheer weight of revelation...and I screamed.