Hold On

We’d had our previous fun-loving chat at four o’clock yesterday afternoon.

It wasn’t even ten o’clock the next morning and he’d already learned about a church Peggy belonged to.

I had a bad feeling about this because I knew Merry, and once he got his teeth into something, he didn’t let go.

And he had his teeth into Trent and Peggy, so my chances at stopping him from getting right up in my shit were minimizing by the second.

These thoughts made me throw up both hands in exasperation and snap, “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours!”

“Someone gives you a heads up they’re thinkin’ of fuckin’ with you, you don’t offer them a head start,” he replied, then kept going. “Margaret Schott is the volunteer assistant director of a program run by Riverside Baptist Church called Faith Saves. The mission of this program is to send members to hang outside AA, NA, and Al-Anon meetings, as well as methadone clinics, approaching people who leave to seek recovery or guidance through the word of God.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

“Considering those programs are already significantly faith-based, the folks at Riverside either aren’t that bright or not real good at hiding their recruitment tactics. Google Peg Schott’s name; she’s all over the church’s website, tied to this program. Might be a jump, but doubtful—this is how she met your ex. You know anything about that?”

I shook my head.

“They take Ethan to church?” Merry asked.

I kept shaking my head.

“He’s never mentioned it?” Merry pushed.

I continued shaking my head but asked, “This church bad news?”

“Haven’t had time to dig deep. Jumped from that to some articles about a couple of community centers and other churches that give space to recovery programs that got together to call the cops to get Faith Saves off the pavement so they don’t bother group members after meetings. But they stick to publicly owned space and they’re peaceful, if irritating, so cops can’t do jack. Haven’t been able to follow it further.”

I didn’t have any time to sort through this information in my head before Merry kept talking.

“Trent Schott has priors.”

I felt my lips part.

Merry continued to give it to me.

“Pulled over, suspected DUI, tests showed he was high. Weed. First offense, it was just pot, not much came of it. Got in a fight at a bar that rolled outside that the cops had to break up. His statement reported he was confronting someone who owed him money. They were both hauled in, but no property was damaged. He eventually dropped the charges, so did the other guy, so that slid. Then he was caught with a baggie of ice, not enough to make a big deal about it, so they didn’t. He got community service. He was also suspected in a liquor store robbery, but they didn’t have any security cameras and the clerk on at the time couldn’t positively identify him.”

I stared at Merry reeling this off, all not so good stuff that could be good for me, and I said nothing.

Then again, Merry wasn’t done.

“Last one, strung out, he stole a lighter from a convenience store. Owner was behind the register, and he’d been having some not insignificant gang trouble and having that for a good while. Fed up, he bought a piece, tackled Schott, shoved the gun in his face, and made a citizen’s arrest on the spot. Good news is, he also called the cops to make a proper arrest. Seein’ as Schott only stole a lighter, security footage confirmed that, and he was able to hand that eighty-nine-cent item back to the owner, no charges were filed.”

Before I could swallow it back, I made a noise that was half snort, half giggle before asking, “Trent was arrested by a convenience store owner?”

Merry grinned at me. “Tackled then arrested. And the owner was sixty-three at the time.”

I made the noise again, my shoulders jerking with it.