Chapter One
There was absolutely nothing scary about a church in the morning. Hannah stepped onto the walkway that led from the parsonage to the side door of the church and squared her shoulders. But if there was nothing scary about the Lake Eden Holy Redeemer Lutheran Church, why was her heart racing a zillion beats a minute?
When Hannah had arrived at the parsonage only moments before, armed with a box containing four dozen Molasses Crackle Cookies for Grandma Knudson’s Bible study group, Grandma had asked Hannah for a favor. Of course Hannah had agreed. And the favor was quite simple. All Grandma wanted her to do was to go next door to the church to tell Reverend Matthew, the minister who was subbing for her grandson, that lunch was ready and he should come to the parsonage kitchen. Grandma had tried to call him to tell him herself, but Reverend Matthew hadn’t answered the phone in the church office.
Hannah avoided an icy patch on the walkway and shoved her hands into the pockets of her parka. It was a bright, sunny, winter day and as she neared the side door of church, she told herself that there were plenty of plausible reasons why Reverend Matthew hadn’t answered the phone. He could have been in another part of the church and hadn’t heard it ring. It was also possible that Grandma had mis-dialed, or another half-dozen equally reasonable explanations. Just because he hadn’t responded was no reason to suspect that there was anything wrong.
On the other hand, there could be something wrong. What if Reverend Matthew had fallen off a ladder while attempting to replace a light bulb in the heavy colored-glass fixtures that hung from the ceiling of the nave? Or how about the tempermental furnace in the church basement? Their regular minister, Reverend Knudson, was an expert at jiggling wires to fix it. What if Reverend Matthew had tried to do the same and electrocuted himself?
Hannah gave a little laugh at her overactive imagination. Chronicling all the mishaps that could have befallen the substitute minister was silly. She arrived at the side door to the church and unlocked it with the key Grandma Knudson had given her. Nothing was wrong. Everything was just fine. Reverend Matthew would greet her when she came in and they’d go back to the parsonage together.
Stale air rolled out to meet her as she pushed the door open and stepped in. It was scented with drying flowers and the faint odor of fuel oil from the furnace. Even though the inside door to the small windowless entry room was open, only feeble light filtered in from the stained glass windows that graced the walls in the body of the church. Hannah felt for the light switch but she couldn’t seem to find one. She debated the wisdom of leaving the outside door open for light and air, but then she remembered the huge heating bills that the church incurred every winter. This was the coldest February on record, and her eyes would adjust to the dimness.
It took a few moments after she’d closed the outside door, but at last she could see well enough to move forward in the crowded room. A tall dresser with wide, shallow drawers sat against the wall. It contained the sparkling white linen for communion. The top of the dresser held a large, round silver tray that had been polished to a high gleam by Hannah’s neighbors, Marguerite and Clara Hol-lenbeck. The tray was peppered with small nonnonindentations for tiny round glasses that would hold the communion wine. Another, smaller silver tray with a cover was next to the large tray, ready to receive the communion wafers.
Avoiding several boxes that jutted out into her path, Hannah moved toward the doorway and stepped into the main body of the church. That was much better! The sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows was gorgeous.
“Reverend Matthew?” she called out, but there was no answer. Her eyes scanned the rows of oaken pews, but the only things moving were tiny dust motes dancing in the beams of colored light. Hannah moved forward down the carpeted center aisle, heading straight for the church office. It was opposite the stairway that led up to the choir loft and it had been recently refurbished.
The door to the office was closed and Hannah hesitated. “Reverend Matthew?” she called out again, and followed her query by knocking softly on the door. “Are you there?”
There was no answer, Hannah felt her hearbeat quicken and there was a lump in her throat. This wasn’t good, not good at all. She wanted to turn tail and run, but that would be cowardly. What if Reverend Matthew was inside and he was injured in some way. Or he had been taken suddenly ill? Or … but she didn’t want to think about that!
She called his name again. Twice. And then she reached out with shaking fingers and turned the doorknob. It took all of her gumption to push the door open slightly, just far enough so that she could see the edge of the desk. And then a bit wider. And then …
Hannah stood stock still and stared at the sight that greeted her. Reverend Matthew was seated at the desk and it was obvious that he’d been working on next Sunday’s sermon because it was spread out on the desk in front of him. His head was resting on the pages, but he wasn’t asleep. There was something else on the sheets of paper and on the desktop in front of him. That something was blood. A lot of blood. More blood than Hannah ever would have guessed a human being could contain.
“Reverend Matthew?” she asked again, in a very quiet voice. She didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t get one. Reverend Matthew was stone cold dead.
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