Red Dawn Rising (Red Returning Trilogy) (20 page)

He looked passively toward the church. “Oh, a cousin’s wedding, I guess. Can’t remember which one. Weddings and funerals, maybe a baptism here and there. That’s all the churchgoing I’ve ever done. I didn’t grow up that way. Don’t know if I’ve missed anything or not.” He looked up and down the poorly lit street. “We’d better get inside.”

They took the sidewalk down the right side of the building and stopped
before
a plain wooden door. As Jordan knocked, Cass wondered what cosmic order, or disorder, had led them here.

The man must have been waiting just on the other side, for the door opened immediately. Before Jordan could introduce them, the man said, “Come, come,” and motioned for them to enter quickly, his face gentle but bearing concern. “You are Jordan and Cass, right?” he asked, locking the door soundly behind them.

A little late to be asking
, Cass thought.

“Yes, sir,” Jordan answered. “I’m sure this must be a big inconvenience for you.”

“Not at all,” the man assured them as he gestured for them to sit down in the small vestibule clad in dark paneling. Short benches sat along three walls, and a door stood open in the fourth, though from her angle, Cass couldn’t see what lay beyond. Her focus now was on this man dressed in jeans, a pullover sweater, and everyday work boots—not the black robe she had expected. Strands of neatly combed silver barely concealed the pink of his scalp, the same pink that flushed his round cheeks with evidence of a hardy and good-natured soul, or so one might hope.

“I’m Rev. Scovall, and I’m honored that you came.”

You are?
Cass thought.
Why?

“Liesl Bower is very special to me, and I’m happy to be of service to her friends.” He looked toward the door he’d just locked and smiled. “Perhaps she’ll tell you of the night she came bursting through that door in a terrible fright.” He turned back to them. “I was seconds from locking it shut, not knowing there was a young woman out there in great danger. But God knew.” He paused. “He always knows.”

Cass and Jordan exchanged glances but said nothing.

Rev. Scovall eyed their bags. “Now, you’ll need lodging and food. I have both. When Liesl and … and the man I’m most anxious to meet arrive, you’ll all move into my apartment just down the hall.” He tilted his head to one side. “You’ll find it very modest, indeed, but comfortable. There’s a room for the women and one for the men, but you must share a bathroom.”

“And what about you, sir?” Jordan asked.

“Oh, I’ve spent many a night on the sofa in my study on the other side of the church. There’s even a small bath nearby.” He glanced at his watch. “Ready for a midnight snack?”

Jordan and Cass nodded in unison.

“Good,” Rev. Scovall said. “I’d hate for all that food to go to waste.” He leaned over and picked up Cass’s duffle bag. “Come with me.”

Cass looked wide-eyed at Jordan as she grabbed her backpack and fell in behind the reverend. He was of medium height with a few too many pounds packed around his middle, but that didn’t seem to slow him down. In fact, he fairly bristled with energy and something even more galvanizing, like a sense of purpose.

When they passed through the door of the vestibule, Cass slowed to a stop and looked around, noticing Jordan do the same. They had just entered the sanctuary. There were no gilded icons or brilliant stained glass windows, but the woodwork was exceptional. The multitiered molding, coffered ceiling, fluted columns, and ornate carvings at the end of each pew spoke admirably of a masterful carpenter somewhere in the past.

But there the visual pageantry ended. The walls were unadorned plaster of pale blue, the windows tall and clear at the top, frosted at the bottom. The mahogany pews were softened with cushions the color of the walls. There was no choir loft and no organ, but a black baby grand piano sat on one side of a raised platform at the front of the church. In the middle of the platform, where a pulpit might have been, stood a single bar stool. Behind it, on a soaring windowless wall, hung a simple wooden cross and nothing else. Cass marveled at the powerful simplicity of the room.

“He was a carpenter, you know,” Rev. Scovall said, coming up beside her.

“Who?” Then she realized. “Oh. Him.” She didn’t know why that embarrassed her.

“I’m told the first congregation of this church wanted to honor that,” the reverend added, gazing toward the moldings, which to Cass appeared hand planed. “Now, let me show you to the kitchen.”

Cass turned to see Jordan run a hand over the carving of a dove capping
one
of the pews. She caught his eye and motioned for him to follow. When Jordan caught up, he said, “It’s a different kind of place, isn’t it?”

She nodded and reached for his arm, less to pull him along than to feel the comfort of him and to watch his face brighten at her touch. She was falling in love with him, though she wasn’t ready to. Not now. There was too much to sort out, too little to offer him.
He deserves more than I am
.

They exited the sanctuary on the opposite side and followed Rev. Scovall down a short hallway, through some kind of activity room, and into an adjoining kitchen. “Here we are,” he said cheerfully, flipping a light switch. Spread over a long countertop was an assortment of deli meats and cheeses, fresh-baked breads, a couple of pies still in their pans, and an attractive display of fresh fruits. Beyond that were two large casserole dishes, their contents not immediately recognizable beneath a layer of melted cheese on one and sugared pecans on the other.

Rev. Scovall swept his hand over the banquet. “Our secretary and her husband either cooked or gathered this at the last minute. I hope it suits you.” Cass and Jordan stared at the food with open mouths. “Mrs. Augustino was here that first night Liesl came to us,” the reverend explained.

“Liesl comes here often?” Jordan asked.

“Oh yes. Every time she’s in New York, she comes to play for our little congregation.” He chuckled. “I’ll never forget the first time she sat down at our old upright piano with the cracked keys and plinkity-plunk sound.” His shoulders slightly heaved to the beat of his laughter. “We all cringed with embarrassment. That’s why we have the baby grand you probably noticed.” He paused. “But you know what? She never once complained about the old piano. In fact, she did the most amazing thing the first time she struck those twangy keys.” He drew a long breath as if savoring the memory. “She stopped playing, then leaned over and kissed the piano. After that, she proceeded to coax the most beautiful sounds from it we’d ever heard.” He looked away a moment, then back at his guests. “That’s what happens, you know. Sometimes, it just takes the right touch to restore life.”

He looked back at the food. “Well now, enough talk. Please fill your plates. Liesl tells me that this day has been an ordeal for you. I’m sorry for
that
. I’ve prayed for God to show you his path through this trouble. You must watch for it.” With that, he started for the door, then paused. “I’ll leave you now. Liesl and her … uh … friend should be here soon. I must listen for them.” And he left.

It was just after one on Sunday morning when Evgeny parked at the side of the church. Liesl stared out the window at the small, unmarked door before them.

“It will do neither one of us any good to dwell on what happened here,” Evgeny said. “That is over.”

But trapped behind his scorn was a different sound, a painful plea. Liesl heard it, and she understood. Without a word, she got out and went to the door. As soon as she knocked, Rev. Scovall opened it. Just last week, she’d come to perform for his congregation. Tonight, she’d come to hide. Again.

“Come in,” the reverend said, reaching for her and drawing her into a light but affectionate embrace. “Sweet child, you’re safe here.” He released her slowly and turned toward Evgeny, who’d planted himself a few feet away, his head cocked, his eyes like flint.

Liesl was relieved to see Rev. Scovall make the first move. He walked up to Evgeny and touched the side of his arm. “It’s good to see you too, Mr. Kozlov. Please come inside where it’s warm … and secure.”

After a long moment of awkward silence, Evgeny responded, “I should not be here.”

Without hesitation, the reverend replied, “Then where should you be?”

Apparently, Evgeny had no answer.

“Please, sir, come with us,” Rev. Scovall urged.

Liesl watched the subtle twitch of Evgeny’s resolute face. She couldn’t help but smile when he turned and followed the reverend inside.

“Your young friends are having a bite to eat in the kitchen, Liesl.” Rev. Scovall pointed the way down the hall. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like a word with Mr. Kozlov.”

Liesl watched Evgeny go rigid.

“This way, please,” Rev. Scovall prompted, offering little chance for Evgeny to decline. When the two men disappeared into the sanctuary, Liesl headed toward the kitchen, wondering what in heaven’s name the good reverend had to say to the hired killer.

Cass and Jordan had finished their meal and were cleaning up after themselves when they heard footsteps in the hall. A disheveled Liesl appeared in the doorway. Her hair was bunched into a knot on top of her head, and she wore a bulky jacket that hung below her fingertips. She offered a dispirited smile, then said apologetically, “I hardly know what to say to you.”

Jordan didn’t miss a beat. “How about ‘Pass the casserole, please’?” He picked up a long Pyrex dish and passed it under his nose. “Hmm … broccoli.”

Cass knew what he was doing, and it worked. Liesl stared at him a moment, then broke into a wide grin.

“Come on and get something to eat,” Cass urged. Then she looked past Liesl and saw no one behind her. “Where’s the Russian guy?”

“In the sanctuary, talking to Rev. Scovall.”

“Do they know each other?” Jordan asked.

“Only by reputation,” Liesl answered, eyeing them closely. “I guess you should know what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourselves into, and with whom.” She waved off Jordan’s attempts to bring her food and drink, then sat down in a folding metal chair and stretched her long legs before her. It was the first time Cass noticed the splotches of paint on Liesl’s faded jeans. When the jacket came off, revealing a stretched and slightly frayed sweater beneath, Cass remembered that Liesl had escaped with the clothes on her back and nothing more. Cass wondered where she got the jacket. Probably from the Russian.

Liesl released her hair from the elastic band straining to contain it all and shook it free, “Evgeny Kozlov is a former Russian secret
service
—KGB—agent who, just a year ago, was ordered to capture me for the information I didn’t know I had. Then he was to kill me.” She paused to let that take root. “He failed miserably, as you can see.” She tapped her fingernails against the table and fixed her gaze on Cass.

“It seems you and I share the same proclivity for accidentally knocking over hornets’ nests,” she told Cass, “then trying to outrun the stinging beasts. I thought I had, until this week.” She looked from Cass to Jordan. “There are things I can’t tell you about Evgeny, classified kinds of things that have to do with a music professor I once had, a lost code, and an assassination plot that failed because the code was found and translated in time. But I can tell you this. I just spent nearly fourteen hours on the road with Evgeny Kozlov, and I no longer fear him. In fact, I trust him to make sense of what’s happening to us right now.”

“While he’s explaining that,” Jordan said, “I hope he won’t use words like
proclivity
.” He grinned at Liesl as he handed her a stem of grapes. “I want to clearly understand what this Russian hornet has planned for us.”