“They’re not gonna fuckin’ help me,” she said and wrenched a dry branch off the tree overhead. “Those bumpkins are pointing the finger at Charlie? And she’s the one that needs their help! Uh-uh, I’m on my own.”
“Nom de Dieu, would you shut up for a minute?” Doc snapped. “It’s just talk, it’s what they do. I know they’re cranky and full of doubt, but they’re human beings. And they’ve got children and families too and if you talk to them like you’re a person and not a wild animal they might just help you out.”
“Shit no,” Kit said. She twisted the smaller twigs off the main branch and pitched them into the field. “We’re wasting time. I gotta get back out there.”
“Lemme butter ’em up, then, babe. Maybe they listen to me. You gotta find out what they know, could save lots of time if you give ’em a chance.”
Kit went back to the window to listen.
“Now, as you know,” said Tom, “Miz Blanchet can’t afford much in the way of a funeral, so I’m passing around a collection for a casket. We’ll have a sign-up sheet in back for pallbearers and flower donations, anything you can think of to help.” Tom held either side of the pulpit and dropped his head between his arms. “Now let’s pray. Lord, our Father, hear us. Sister Sandy has been taken from this world, and we just ask you take her in kindly and gently and give her a nice spot in heaven. We fear she was in the hands of Satan, O Lord. We beg you to wrest her from his evil grips and carry her soul to you, God. And we just ask you to watch over us now. In your sweet name, O Lord, Christ Jesus, we pray. Amen.”
Kit watched the people of the town dig into their pockets and purses and give all they had. The baskets filled quickly and were passed hand over shoulder to the front. Tom took the collection and bowed in thanks. Kit didn’t think they were as good at heart as they claimed, but maybe they were good enough. The old wooden door groaned as she pushed her way in, and every head in the church turned to look. She stood there in the aisle, flanked by the souls of Pecan Hollow. She dared not meet their eyes, but swept her gaze above their heads and gathered the courage to speak.
A sharp hoot slipped out of the organ. The organist popped up and waved her hands in nervous apology, played a few chords to clear the air, then sat quietly and listened.
“Charlie’s missing,” Kit said. No one spoke. Someone coughed. Gail Peters’s middle child said, “What you say, Mama?” and was quickly shushed. Kit began to lose her nerve and took a step backward. Then Doc appeared beside her.
“Y’all hear her out now,” Doc said and stepped aside. Kit looked down before she spoke. She couldn’t focus with all these eyes.
“My daughter, Charlie. You all know her,” she said. “I need your help in finding her.”
A man with floppy gray hair and a bandanna around his neck said, “When did you see her last, dear?”
“Last time I saw her was about nine o’clock last night.” She remembered how furious Charlie had been, how she hadn’t touched her food. How there was no more snarl in her voice. Now she wondered if she had stopped fighting because she had already decided to leave.
“I think she’s with her father,” Kit said. People exchanged whispers. She paused, not quite ready to share this last piece. “I think Manny took her.”
A collection of gasps and words of surprise.
“What do you mean, Manny’s her father?”
“Manny who, now?”
“He’s that looker been hanging around lately.”
“Oh, Manuel. From Bible study? That’s your girl’s daddy?”
Kit realized she was still holding the branch she had pulled off the tree outside and rubbed the bark with her thumb.
Alonzo Martinez, the griddle cook at the diner, cleared his throat. “I don’t know if this helps, but, uh, I saw the two of them, Charlie and Sandy, up at the diner the other day? Seemed to me like they were having a tiff. Sandy must’ve gotten under her skin, cause your girl stormed off.”
Glennis raised her eyebrows and mouthed the word motive to the woman next to her. Kit rushed up to her and brought the stick down right next to her with a crack. Glennis jumped and turned away, her face shriveled up in fear. Doc yanked Kit back by her shirt and sat her down on the dais.
“Listen, Charlie didn’t do shit, and you know it!” She lit up with an anger so bright she could scarcely see. “You’ve got to listen to me! I think Manny killed Sandy, and now he has Charlie—”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“He wouldn’t! He saved her mama’s life!”
“Maybe if you’d kept a closer eye on her you’d know where she was.”
“If he’s her father, he’s got a right to be with her, doesn’t he?”
“Quiet!” Tom said and slammed his palm on the pulpit. Everyone hushed. Then Tom turned to Kit. “Look, Kit. You come to us asking for help. That’s fine. Now, we will send up our prayers and keep our eyes peeled for your daughter. But, we have a bigger problem here. How can we even trust you’re being up front with us? I’m sorry to say it, but we don’t know you from Adam. You don’t fear God, you don’t fear no one. I’ve been waiting for you to walk through those doors since the day you set foot in Pecan Hollow, and today you finally came.” He was preaching, and his tone became more folksy as the spirit moved him. “You come in here, throwing accusations, stirring up my flock. Your girl Charlie’s always run wild, she’ll find her way home. And if she is with Mr. Romero like you’re saying, she’ll be safe enough. Whatever you got against him, he ain’t no killer.” His voice slowed and became grave. “I seen him carry Jobeth Crabtree from her pew to her car when her hip was buggin’ her.”
Jobeth nodded from her pew.
Pastor Tom continued. “I seen him weep reading scripture. I seen him prayin’ when ain’t nobody was lookin’ cause that’s the kind of man he is. He’s the godly kind. He didn’t kill Sandy Blanchet any more’n he killed JFK. Miz Walker,” he said and pointed toward the door. “You can take your accusations and your violent heathen ways right outta my church and let the good people of Pecan Hollow grieve.”
The congregation was nodding and yessing and turning their eyes toward the ceiling.
Kit shook her head and covered her ears. She had known they would turn their backs on her. It was worse than if she hadn’t asked at all.
“Shame on all of you,” Doc said. “Imagine if it were your child.”
Pastor Tom pointed at Doc now. “You, too, with your black magic. Outta my church! Out!”
Kit prickled all over. She stalked down the aisle, fuming, and, just before leaving, raised her branch high and smashed the colored glass window.
Chapter Forty
As they cruised past the pecan orchards and hay farms that surrounded Pecan Hollow, long fields with miles of fences, some new, some mended, Charlie gathered the courage to finally ask about Sandy’s car. She’d nurtured a solid grudge against the girl, and she wished nothing good for her, but it didn’t sit well with her to be in Sandy’s space without her permission.