The Greatest Gift (14 page)

Hewitt stayed motionless in his car for several minutes, surveying the area. He lifted his sunglasses to get a better view of the activity. Pastor Timothy opened his Bible one more time and appeared to say a few words. After he closed his Bible, the area began to empty. The pastor chatted briefly with four cemetery workers and then left.

The workers began the process of lowering the casket into the ground. Hewitt stared and relaxed his legs as Pastor Timothy drove past him. The workers continued their task and began to backfill the open grave. Hewitt watched every shovelful of dirt pouring into the hole.

He rubbed his eyes a few times as he grew tired. After opening up his windows to catch some cold air, he took a sip of some flat Diet Coke sitting in a cup.
This stuff is vile.
He shook his head and removed his sunglasses.

One by one, shovels patted and swatted the topsoil in an organized fashion. The pound and press routine lasted several minutes until one gravedigger tossed his shovel to the ground. The others did the same.

When the last bit of sunlight scraped the horizon, he closed his windows and got out. He stretched his arms, adjusted his suit jacket and wiped away a lone fuzzy clinging to the lower part of his pants.

He walked to the burial site and kicked at the dirt a few times. He glanced behind him and to his left and right. Grabbing a shovel, he slammed it into the dirt and began digging. He tossed the dirt to the left, he tossed it to his right and when he had a full shovel, he hoisted it over his shoulder.

Hewitt dug and dug, each stab at the dirt deeper than the one before. He rested every few minutes, allowing the strain that swallowed up the energy in his arms to receive some relief. He took a handkerchief from his top shirt pocket and wiped the perspiration off his forehead. Removing his jacket, he looked around for a safe place to leave it. He tossed it aside instead when he noticed a man walking up the hill toward him.
 

“Hey, mister,” a man yelled from a distance, waving his arms. “What are you doing?”

Hewitt continued to thrust the shovel into the ground. He dug to the left. He dug to the right. He dug and dug for several minutes until finally hitting the top of the casket. The metal of the shovel scraped it again on the next pitch down. Hewitt jumped into the hole and fell on top of it. He managed to nudge the casket sideways.

“What are you doing, mister?” asked the man looking down at him. “Did you drop your wallet in there?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you better have a good reason for what you did. You just ruined our work.”

Hewitt looked up. “I’ll put your precious dirt back when I’m done.”

“Done with what?” The man snapped a shot of Hewitt with his cell phone.

“FBI.” Hewitt flashed his badge. “Step back and don’t interfere with an ongoing investigation.”

The man walked away, grumbling.

Hewitt gripped the top of the casket and tried to wedge it apart. “Open, you son of a gun,” he said, groaning.

He reached up and grabbed the shovel. He battered the top several times, finally prying it open. He tossed the shovel away and wiped his hands.

He strained to lift the top. “Up you go,” he shouted, thrusting it open. He stared for a few seconds and reached in, picking up the picture of Pastor Dennis sitting on his motorcycle. He stared at it for a few more seconds before placing it back inside and closing the casket.

“Where are you, Pastor Dennis?” he said as he climbed out of the grave and kicked the shovel away.

Hewitt banged on the front door of the church. “Hello, anyone in there?” he shouted. He whacked the hard, wooden door a few more times with the back of his gun. “Open up. Now.”

He walked around to the side of the church and stood on his toes to look through a stained glass window. The church was empty. The candles near the podium flickered, and the manger scene was illuminated by a light from the high-arching ceiling. Hewitt ran to the backyard and knocked on the lone door.

The door opened. “Yes, how can I help you?” a woman asked.

“I’m Hewitt Paul.” He pulled out his FBI badge and showed it to her. “I need to get inside. I may have lost something in the pastor’s office.”

The woman frowned. “You do know what happened to the pastor?”

“I do. I was in his office a couple of days ago. I thought I might have left an important note behind.”

“What kind of note? Was it on a sheet of paper or in a book?”

“It’s related to the case I’m working on. I can’t share that information.”

She opened the door and took another look at the badge he was holding. “I’ll be in the basement if you need me.”

“Your name?”

“Katie Adams.”

“And what are you doing in the church?”

“I’m a secretary.”

“Thanks, Katie. I shouldn’t be long.”

“The door is open. Please close it when you’re done.”

Hewitt looked to his left and right, moving his hands on both sides of the wall as he walked down the hallway, feeling for any hidden passageways or doors he might have missed on his last inspection. He opened the first door leading down the hallway to Pastor Dennis’ office. Inside were several boxes piled one on top of another. He removed the top one and opened it, finding old sandals, dirtied robes and a couple of wooden crosses. He looked inside the next box and found old coins. He dug one out and put the box back. Holding it up, he squinted.

Looks like the image of a soldier, but not from our time.

He heard footsteps coming, and he pushed the boxes back. He jogged a few steps to Pastor Dennis’ office and went inside. An old Styrofoam cup stood on his desk, filled with water. Papers were scattered all over the floor. He went behind the desk and picked up the wastepaper basket. Red stained tissues filled the top. Hewitt took a deep breath, took a pair of plastic gloves out of his pocket and put them on his hands. He turned the basket over and dumped it out onto the desk.

He rummaged through several pieces of paper, some starter notes for the pastor’s next sermon. He sat down and examined the wrinkled pages. Acts 27-28:10. Hewitt turned around and looked at the bookcase.
There’s got to be a Bible here.
He pulled out several black books and tossed them on the ground. “Here it is,” he said, holding it up. He paged through it and found the passage
.
He kept his finger inside the Bible as a bookmark, got up and locked the office door. He sat in the chair opposite the desk and began to read.

When it was decided that we would sail for Italy, they pr
o
ceeded to deliver Paul and some other prisoners to a centurion of the Augustan cohort named Julius. And embarking in an Adramyttian ship, which was about to sail to the regions along the coast of Asia, we put out to sea accompanied by Aristarchus, a Macedonian of Thessalonica. The next day we put in at Sidon; and Julius treated Paul with consideration and allowed him to go to his friends and receive care. From there we put out to sea and sailed under the shelter of Cyprus because the winds were contrary. When we had sailed through the sea along the coast of Cilicia and Pamphylia, we landed at Myra in Lycia. There the centurion found an Alexandrian ship sailing for Italy, and he put us aboard it. When we had sailed slowly for a good many days, and with di
f
ficulty had arrived off Cnidus, since the wind did not permit us to go farther, we sailed under the shelter of Crete, off Salmone;
 
and with difficulty sailing past it we came to a place called Fair Havens, near which was the city of Lasea.

When considerable time had passed and the voyage was now dangerous, since even the fast was already over, Paul began to a
d
monish them and said to them, “Men, I perceive that the voyage will certainly be with damage and great loss, not only of the cargo and the ship, but also of our lives.” 
 
But the centurion was more persuaded by the pilot and the captain of the ship than by what was being said by Paul. Because the harbor was not suitable for wintering, the majority reached a decision to put out to sea from there, if somehow they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete, fa
c
ing southwest and northwest, and spend the winter there.

When a moderate south wind came up, supposing that they had attained their purpose, they weighed anchor and began sailing along Crete, close inshore.

But before very long there rushed down from
 
the land a violent wind, called Euraquilo;
 
and when the ship was caught in it and could not face the wind, we gave way to it and let ourselves be dri
v
en along. Running under the shelter of a small island called Cla
u
da, we were scarcely able to get the ship’s boat under control. After they had hoisted it up, they used supporting cables in undergirding the ship; and fearing that they might run aground on the sha
l
lows of Syrtis, they let down the sea anchor and in this way let themselves be driven along. The next day as we were being violen
t
ly storm-tossed, they began to jettison the cargo; and on the third day they threw the ship’s tackle overboard with their own hands. Since neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small storm was assailing us, from then on all hope of our being saved was gradually abandoned.

When they had gone a long time without food, then Paul stood up in their midst and said, “Men, you ought to have followed my advice and not to have set sail from Crete and incurred this da
m
age and loss. Yet now I urge you to keep up your courage, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. For this very night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve stood before me, saying, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before Caesar; and behold, God has granted you all those who are sailing with you.’ Therefore, keep up your courage, men, for I believe God that it will turn out exactly as I have been told. But we must run aground on a certain island.”

But when the fourteenth night came, as we were being driven about in the Adriatic Sea, about midnight the sailors began to surmise that they were approaching some land. They took soun
d
ings and found it to be twenty fathoms; and a little farther on they took another sounding and found it to be fifteen fathoms. Fearing that we might run aground somewhere on the rocks, they cast four anchors from the stern and wished for daybreak. But as the sailors were trying to escape from the ship and had let down the ship’s boat into the sea, on the pretense of intending to lay out anchors from the bow, Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers, “Unless these men remain in the ship, you yourselves ca
n
not be saved.” Then the soldiers cut away the ropes of the ship’s boat and let it fall away.

Until the day was about to dawn, Paul was encouraging them all to take some food, saying, “Today is the fourteenth day that you have been constantly watching and going without eating, having taken nothing. Therefore I encourage you to take some food, for this is for your preservation, for not a hair from the head of any of you will perish.” Having said this, he took bread and gave thanks to God in the presence of all, and he broke it and began to eat. All of them were encouraged, and they themselves also took food. All of us in the ship were two hundred and seventy-six pe
r
sons.
 
When they had eaten enough, they began to lighten the ship by throwing out the wheat into the sea.

When day came, they could not recognize the land; but they did observe a bay with a beach, and they resolved to drive the ship onto it if they could. And casting off the anchors, they left them in the sea while at the same time they were loosening the ropes of the rudders; and hoisting the foresail to the wind, they were heading for the beach. But striking a reef where two seas met, they ran the vessel aground; and the prow stuck fast and remained immovable, but the stern began to be broken up by the force of the waves. The soldiers’ plan was to kill the prisoners so that none of them would swim away and escape; but the centurion, wanting to bring Paul safely through, kept them from their intention and commanded that those who could swim should jump overboard first and get to land, and the rest should follow, some on planks and others on va
r
ious things from the ship. And so it happened that they all were brought safely to land.

 When they had been brought safely through, then we found out that the island was called Malta. The natives showed us e
x
traordinary kindness; for because of the rain that had set in and because of the cold, they kindled a fire and received us all. But when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks and laid them on the fire, a viper came out because of the heat and fastened itself on his hand. When the natives saw the creature hanging from his hand, they began saying to one another, “Undoubtedly this man is a murderer, and though he has been saved from the sea, justice has not allowed him to live. However he shook the creature off into the fire and suffered no harm.
 
But they were expecting that he was about to swell up or suddenly fall down dead. But after they had waited a long time and had seen nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and began to say that he was a god.

Now in the neighborhood of that place were lands belonging to the leading man of the island, named Publius, who welcomed us and entertained us courteously three days. And it happened that the father of Publius was lying in bed afflicted with recurrent fever and dysentery; and Paul went in to see him and after he had prayed, he laid his hands on him and healed him. After this had happened, the rest of the people on the island who had diseases were coming to him and getting cured. They also honored us with many marks of respect; and when we were setting sail, they supplied us with all we needed.

Hewitt closed the Bible and stood, retrieving the black book from his pocket. He paged through it a couple of times, stopping near the end. He tucked the Bible back into the bookcase, cleaned up the floor and threw most of the debris from the desk into the wastepaper basket. Hewitt sat and unwrinkled an old newspaper article. He smoothed out the ends and read.
My goodness. What a lot of baggage to carry around.
He folded it back up and tucked it into his side pocket.

It was time to pay Mrs. Farmer a visit.