He expected her to back down or at least sheepishly admit this was indeed an inappropriate plan. Instead, she plunged ahead. “I admit eavesdropping with hidden microphones may be an unorthodox approach, but God sees such methods as acceptable for the greater good. You’ll be able to help people with their specific problems, and they’ll be empowered to help themselves and improve their lives. And I ask you, Reverend, what is wrong with that?”
Before he could further explain his discomfort, Susannah was justifying the tactics. “There are so many other ways the program can distinguish itself. Envision a choir praising God in jubilant song and members witnessing the power of salvation in their own lives. It’s a means to accomplishing a much greater good.”
Still not convinced this wasn’t simply deception, he made his point a second time. “This would not just be unethical, but a breach of trust,” he said, crossing his arms.
Susannah Baker leaned back against the slats of the wooden chair, a slight smile on her full lips. “If you could hear the prayers of potentially every member of your congregation, what would you do?”
“I’d pray for them and hope those prayers are answered in a positive way,” he replied.
“Exactly my point,” she countered with equal force. “The technology is nothing more than an instrument, providing evidence you wouldn’t otherwise have. Being able to acknowledge the needs of the congregation, you help get the prayers of greatest consequence answered and set them on the miraculous path to redemption in our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Ray pondered Susannah Baker’s proposition and found himself very conflicted. On one side of the argument, he felt employing deception could be a huge risk, and members would surely feel betrayed if they ever knew. But on the other side, such an approach might be the very thing that could save The Road to Calvary from the television trash heap.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she asked.
“No, but I’m not convinced these ideas are right for us.”
“But you said you’re planning to end the program, so you have nothing to lose. And neither do I, so I’ll throw out another idea of how The Road to Calvary can set itself apart from other religious programming.” Elbows propped on the table, Susannah leaned forward. “I’ve always wondered why there is no such thing as Christian makeovers, because a woman who looks good improves her self-esteem and gives her husband something special to come home to. Tell me where it says good Christian women, especially on television, must have big hair, false lashes, and bad eyeliner.”
He chortled; this was certainly an idea that had never crossed his mind, particularly in the realm of ministry.
“Go ahead and laugh,” Susannah continued, not offended in the least, “but it’s another way to set you apart from the competition.”
“My apologies,” Ray offered. “I wasn’t laughing at you; it’s just not something I’ve ever considered.” He ran a finger around the rim of the mug. “You really believe God gave you these directions in a dream?”
“I don’t just believe it. I know it. God has great faith in you, Reverend, and he’s telling you not to give up.”
On some level, Ray realized Susannah Baker’s passion was reminiscent of his own, and it fired his spirit. But he needed time to process the core element of eavesdropping to save souls, a ploy he still considered unethical and shameful. He had no intention of turning The Road to Calvary into a Barnum & Bailey circus act, full of flamboyant miracles and tawdry sideshow freaks.
“I’ll consider it,” he said finally. “Give me a week to reflect on your suggestions and consult with Buck and Jeff. I can’t promise we’ll take you up on any of this.”
She smiled, clasping her hands together. “I understand your concerns. Do you think you’ll have a decision by next week’s taping?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll have an answer after the show.”
“Forgive me for being forward,” she ventured slowly, “but would you mind if I sat in on the discussion? I understand a lot of this sounds crazy, but perhaps it would help if I could clarify any questions you or your staff might have.”
“Well, there isn’t much of a staff. Buck and Jeff basically do this for the Lord.” He paused, tilting his head back slightly. “You sound as though you’ve done this kind of thing before,” he said, not as a question but an open-ended statement.
Her soft smile turned up the corners of a full, inviting mouth. “God has told me everything I need to know.”
3
WEDNESDAY, MAY 15, 2002 ST. CHARLES, MISSOURI RUTH PERKINS’S HOME
“Your yearly physical with Dr. Garland is this Friday at ten o’clock, so what if I pick you up at nine? That should give us plenty of time in case traffic is heavy.”
Ruth Perkins knew her daughter Emma meant well, but she had a way of taking over that could be annoying. She didn’t answer right away, distracted by The Road to Calvary playing in silence, as Emma had hit the mute button on the remote the moment she walked through the door.
“Why do you insist on watching that crap?” Emma said. “The Reverend Bob—”
“Ray,” Ruth countered sternly. “It’s the Reverend Ray.”
Her mother’s outburst took Emma by surprise. “Okay, so you enjoy the Reverend Ray. But he’s a shyster out to part people from their money. You haven’t attended church since Dad died, so why this?”
Her mother’s voice took on an edge of irritation. “You know why I left the Presbyterian Church. When your father was dying, Pastor Ron couldn’t be bothered to visit him in the hospital. And remember, even you thought the funeral was awful. He barely even mentioned the deceased or all he’d done for the church over a long span. I believe Reverend Ray is sincere, and I enjoy his message. Besides, nobody’s forcing you to give them money.”
Emma furrowed her brow, knowing full well her mother was right. “Mom, there are other churches. Why dedicate yourself to a person who is so obviously a fraud?”
“That’s your opinion,” Ruth answered tersely. “I’d appreciate you letting me make my own choices as to my religious beliefs.”
Her mother’s tone left Emma feeling like a berated child. “Forget I said anything.”
Ruth stared into the face of her daughter. Her only child had a lovely heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes. Wisely, she changed the subject. “I do appreciate you wanting to take me to my doctor’s appointment, but it’s not as if I’m an invalid.” Emma started to protest, but Ruth held up an open palm and continued, “I’m only seventy-nine, Emma, not a hundred, and I haven’t had so much as a ticket in over thirty years—”
“Mom!” Emma interrupted. “That’s not why I’m going with you. I want to hear what the doctor has to say.”
Ruth was forty-four when she’d had Emma, and the pregnancy had caught her and Orville by happy surprise. She distinctly remembered holding her daughter in those first precious minutes, marveling that in this new life, she was seeing herself. As a child, adolescent, and young woman, her daughter had a temper to be reckoned with. Ruth shook her head at the memory. “You have my eyes and your Aunt Irene’s temperament.”
Emma’s eyes flashed. “Why are you talking about this?”
Her anger had always festered below the surface, even as a little girl. It had become so bad that Ruth and Orville chose to get Emma into therapy when she started breaking things in unprovoked rages. The therapist thought perhaps her anger stemmed from being an only child.
Ruth said, “It’s too bad we couldn’t give you a brother or a sister. I’ve always wondered if you wouldn’t be incensed so easily if you’d had a sibling to help care for.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance. Ruth realized she should have never broached this subject. “Why on earth are we discussing my temper? You and Dad were the ones that thought I needed to see a shrink.”
Ruth moved to the edge of her chair and patted her daughter’s arm. “I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have said that. But, when you get
angry, you get exceedingly upset, which has always concerned me.”
Emma shrugged her shoulders in irritation. “I know it has. But my anger is under control now, and there’s nothing to worry about.” She paused, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Can we get back to your doctor’s appointment, please? I should go with you and hear what he has to say.”
Ruth hated this “reversal of roles,” as she thought of it. She smiled good-naturedly at her daughter. “Don’t trust me to tell you what the doctor says?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” Emma paused and grinned at her mother. “All right, I do have an agenda. I thought we could do a little shopping and have lunch. That spring coat of yours has seen better days, and Dillard’s has London Fog on sale. It would be my treat because you could use a new coat.”
Ruth would give in, but on one condition. “We can do that—although you don’t have to pay for a coat—if we’ll be done in time for you to pick up Katrina at school.”
“We’ll have plenty of time. Katrina has her last soccer game as a senior, and Jack’s going to meet us there.”
Jack. From Ruth’s perspective, they’d married far too young, and they’d made some bad choices that had haunting consequences. They’d met in Emma’s freshman year at Washington University, where Jack was a junior. Both were smart enough to be chosen valedictorians of their high school graduating classes and to land college scholarships, but not smart enough to practice responsible birth control. Emma was pregnant with Elizabeth before her sophomore year; they married, and she dropped out. Katrina followed less than a year later, and Emma vowed to finish her degree once Jack had graduated.
Emma resumed writing dates in her calendar, and Ruth contemplated her approach. As a mother and grandmother, she was concerned, and rightfully so she thought, about the welfare of her family. If she asked Emma how she and Jack were doing, would she reply with an honest answer or avoid the subject? Ruth decided she had nothing to lose. “Not to pry, but how are things between you and Jack?”
Emma poked at the air with her pen, avoiding eye contact. “We’re in counseling, trying to work through our problems, but the process is slow. And I’m not sure I like the therapist Jack found.”
Ruth wasn’t convinced Emma was telling the truth, even as she looked her mother in the eye.
“I’m not sure what else to say, Mom.”
Ruth thought Emma’s often volatile temper didn’t help matters but wouldn’t say another word. “I hate to see my family struggling,” she said, distracted by the flickering television as The Road to Calvary was coming to an end. “Emma, would you turn that up? I like to recite the prayer of deliverance with the Reverend Ray.”
Grabbing the remote, Emma increased the volume, the disgust in her voice obvious. “You understand this show is taped, right? I swear, Mom, I can’t believe you waste your time on this crap.”
4
THE SAME DAY LINCOLN, NEBRASKA DISCIPLES OF CHRIST CHURCH
Darlene Jordan had left three messages on Captain Turner’s voicemail by the time the women faced one another across a wooden table in a small church conference room. “My apologies for calling so many times, but I have information that can help you.”
Captain Turner removed a notepad and pen from her purse and smiled at Darlene. “We appreciate that.”
Across from her, Darlene sat up straight, penetrating eyes set in a round, expressive face. “The first thing you need to understand is that I never liked or trusted Nicole Hansen. I’ll tell you right now she was embezzling from the church.”
“That’s a serious accusation, Mrs. Jordan. Let’s start from the beginning, and take me through a timeline of events,” Captain Turner coaxed, writing “embezzled” at the top of the page. “She came to the church?”
“Yes,” Darlene said. “Walked in off the street in early 1996, saying she’d recently arrived in town and was looking for a church.”
“That’s not terribly unusual, is it?”
“Not at all. Shortly after she became a member, she started coming in during the week, asking to help as a volunteer. That’s not uncommon either, and I had plenty of work I could use help with, so I took her up on it. Gregory was here most days during the week—pastors put in long hours—and pretty soon, if Gregory was here, Nicole was here, too.”
“Is that out of the ordinary?” Captain Turner asked, tapping her pen against the pad.
“Not necessarily. But here she was, with no apparent job, which I thought was strange.”
That’s interesting, Linda mused. Wife has mysterious past and possible motive. Captain Turner wrote “Investigate wife’s background” in a margin. “Did you ask her if she worked?”
Darlene’s gaze was unwavering. “Oh, sure, but I never believed her answer. Something about getting laid off and being financially secure enough to make a fresh start. But, if you asked who she’d worked for or where she’d moved from, she’d change the subject.”
“You mentioned she was volunteering a lot.”
“Yes. Volunteers don’t normally put in the kind of long hours she did, and her behavior was very flirtatious, which I didn’t think was appropriate.” Darlene’s eyes narrowed in disapproval.
“Because of Gregory’s position as pastor?”
From across the table, Darlene’s brow arched slightly. “That was part of it. But Gregory was also newly widowed. His wife had died of breast cancer, and her illness and death were heartbreaking for Rev. Hansen and the congregation. Chris, his wife, was very active as the choir and music director. When she died, Gregory was devastated. He should’ve taken some time off to at least begin the healing process; instead, he threw himself into the work, sometimes staying here twelve and fourteen hours a day.”
“When did Nicole show up?” Linda took notes at a fast clip.
“Not six months after Chris died.”
Flipping a page, Linda asked, “What was Nicole’s maiden name?”
“Allen, Nicole Allen.”
“Did Nicole’s flirting make Rev. Hansen uncomfortable?”
“No, and that’s what bothered me. He was obviously attracted to her, and they started spending all their time together. The relationship formed quickly, and they were married only thirteen months after Chris passed away.”
This is intriguing, Linda thought. Pastor Hansen barely takes time to mourn his wife. “You said you didn’t trust Nicole. What makes you say that?”
“For someone just moving into town, she seemed to know a lot about Gregory. Nicole not only knew Chris had died of breast cancer, but also that they had tried to have a baby for several years and were considering fertility treatments. That’s when her cancer was discovered. I remember asking Nicole how she knew so much, and she said parishioners had told her things.”
“Talking is human nature, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but it was as if Nicole was using Gregory’s personal tragedy to manipulate him, and he was in a very fragile emotional state.”
Linda ceased writing and eyed Darlene. “Why do you believe Nicole was manipulating Gregory?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Darlene responded, fleshy hands clasped in front of her. “She was very assertive, almost as if she’d come here with a plan to marry Gregory from the start.”
“So, Rev. Hansen and Nicole fall in love and get married. Then what happened?”
“Nicole got pregnant right away, but she miscarried. They had a boy, Jacob, in 1998. Within two years, they had a daughter, Elizabeth. But the most disturbing thing, for me at least, was Nicole’s attitude. Once she and Gregory were married, Nicole was often snippy with staff. She kept badgering Gregory about taking over as bookkeeper, even though the woman in the position had held it for twenty years and was very competent. Nicole was relentless, accusing Nancy of making mistakes and insisting she should be fired. That went on for over a year before Nancy finally quit.” Darlene crossed her muscular arms and leaned into the table. “That’s when I really suspected Nicole was embezzling money,�
� she said in a near whisper.
Linda stretched her slim legs, sitting back in her chair. “What made you suspicious?”
“After Nicole became bookkeeper, those records were off limits to everyone but her. She was very secretive on financial matters; and if anyone pressed her, she became defensive.”
“Can you prove any of this?”
“I can now. After Nicole and Gregory left, I had access to the books again and started reviewing expenses and income month by month. There were a lot of entries for ‘miscellaneous expenses’ of which we knew nothing. Nicole had the authority to write, cash, and deposit checks, and I believe she was taking collection money and donations for herself.”
“Even Reverend Hansen couldn’t sign checks?”
“He had the authority, but Nicole kept those books locked up.”
“Which bank does the church have accounts with?”
“First Nebraska Bank, here in town. I’ve got a meeting scheduled next week to review these discrepancies. You’re welcome to attend.”
“That would be immensely helpful, and we wouldn’t need a warrant.” Linda tapped an index finger on the table. “Let’s jump ahead to Gregory taking a different position as a Disciples of Christ missionary in Africa. When was that exactly?”
“He announced their plans to the congregation last November, and they left at the end of March. But Nicole absolutely did not want to be a missionary. She argued Africa was no place to raise Jacob and Elizabeth and insisted on staying behind. But Gregory was adamant that missionary work was his calling. They were fighting constantly, but Gregory wouldn’t budge. Once the latest pastor was hired, they started packing. Reverend Martin accepted the position in early March. Gregory gave his last sermon on March twenty-fourth, and we had a good-bye party that afternoon. Funny thing, though, no one knows when they left for missionary orientation in Cleveland. After the party, except for Nicole packing, no one saw Gregory or the children again.”
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