Salvation Station

by Kathryn Schleich

  On the other end of the line, Buck thought he recognized the elderly woman’s voice.

  Large donations were increasing in frequency and he was certain this was her, but he wanted to choose his words carefully. “This wouldn’t by chance be Mrs. Ruth Perkins of St. Charles, would it?” As three ex-wives could attest, he was a charmer, but never phony.

  “Why, yes, it is. How did you know it was me, Mr.—”

  “Call me Buck, Mrs. Perkins. We’ve spoken in the past, and I recognized your voice and a prayer request. I remember you so well because we don’t receive many handwritten letters.”

  “A dying art, I’m afraid. I’ll be using the same credit card as before.”

  On set, groups were still congratulating Ray and Susannah twenty minutes later.

  “Now, you understand how I know Reverend Ray.” Sally Sullivan came up to Susannah. “I almost spilled the beans, but the reverend has offered guidance regarding my aunt’s health issues, too.”

  Putting her left hand, where her engagement ring shone under the studio lights, prominently on Sally’s shoulder, Susannah was all apologies. “I apologize for being short with you. It never occurred to me that Ray would meet someone making a prayer request in person. And a marriage proposal certainly wasn’t on my mind!”

  “Apology accepted. And that ring looks great on your finger.”

  “It fits perfectly!”

  “Well, I told Ray to make asking you for your ring size part of an ordinary conversation, so you wouldn’t catch on.”

  Susannah pretended to look sternly at Ray. “That’s where the ‘You have such delicate hands’ conversation came from.”

  Ray smiled. “I had to find out somehow without giving my true intentions away!”

  Balancing on her walker, Aunt Julia smiled at the happy couple. “Well, this truly is a memorable visit. Congratulations and Merry Christmas!”

  Across the soundstage, unnoticed by almost anyone, Jeff Jones sat alone, observing the celebration. Since KNSL had brought camera equipment and operators, he hadn’t filled his usual role. I might not be very smart, Jeff thought, but I’m smart enough to realize The Road to Calvary is changing. He was glad Ray hadn’t shut down production, but this was no longer the pastor he had once felt so close to. He felt less and less useful, and Ray’s agreeing to look for larger markets surprised him.

  His and Buck’s mounting concerns about Susannah and her increasing influence over Ray and the show’s direction seemed to be a point not worth arguing over. Ray was going to marry her. Jeff had a sickening feeling in his stomach that he and Buck were going to have to be extra cautious in their dealings with the reverend’s fiancée.

  27

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI BUCK’S HOME

  Success seemed to be raining down on The Road to Calvary in sheets of good news. To Buck’s astonishment, Susannah’s two-minute Christian beauty tip segments were an instant hit. Women sent in their stories of makeup triumphs right along with the prayer requests. Susannah was often insufferable, forever reminding Buck and Jeff that makeup was the component that made them different from every other religious broadcast.

  The segments did separate the program from other religious fare. As Buck suspected, Susannah relished the attention parishioners lavished on her makeup tips. He assumed being noticed was the real reason she had been so insistent on producing them.

  Soon after Ray’s proposal, Jeff called Buck to discuss the happy couple. Susannah was already making plans for a spring wedding, and the men agreed to meet after New Year’s.

  Freshly brewed coffee infused the air of the small kitchen where Jeff and Buck sat at a wooden table in the early morning. Buck found himself taken aback at how quickly Jeff dispensed with the pleasantries. They normally tried to catch up with each other’s lives, but this conversation would solely revolve around Susannah Baker.

  “It’s a weird coincidence that Susannah appeared right as Ray was calling it quits. First Ray listens to everything she says, then he falls in love, and now he wants to marry her. And we don’t know a damn thing about this woman.” Jeff took a swallow of black coffee from his ceramic mug.

  “Agreed,” Buck replied, stirring cream into his mug of steaming liquid. “While part of me is glad there’s still The Road to Calvary, I’ve never gotten comfortable with this idea of eavesdropping to pull off ‘miracles,’ no matter what Susannah’s rationale.”

  “Me neither. Honestly, I don’t like her or the direction we’re headed, and I’m disappointed in Ray. Like I said from the start, this is fraud, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is. We’re using trickery to deceive people into thinking Ray has a direct line to God, and he’s healing them. Remember at the beginning how hesitant he was? You can’t tell me he doesn’t honestly realize this is wrong.”

  Jeff put down his coffee mug and chuckled. “Direct line to God—wouldn’t that be sweet?” He took a deep, heavy breath. “You and I both said that if we were ever uncomfortable with this, we were outta there. At the Christmas Eve show while you worked the phones, I sat and watched all the excitement over their engagement. It made me think I shouldn’t be a part of this anymore.”

  “I hope you’re not serious, Jeff.” Buck broached the subject of the two of them undertaking research on Ray’s bride-to-be. “If we’re serious about investigating Susannah’s background, we need to act now. We have five months until the wedding, not a lot of time.”

  Jeff picked up his coffee again. “I’m thinkin’ with Susannah soon to be Mrs. Williams, anything we discovered wouldn’t change Ray’s mind. I’m keepin’ my nose outta this.” Buck’s shoulders drooped. “We’ve been doing this since the beginning, buddy. We’re a team—”

  “Used to be a team,” Jeff said. “Now, it’s whatever Susannah wants, and she almost always gets her way. You think you don’t like the current changes? Wait until they get married. She’s after somethin’—money for sure, fame, power—I dunno. But it all goes against everything Ray has ever stood for as a preacher.”

  A spoon tinkled in Buck’s mug as he stirred his coffee absentmindedly. “If you leave, what would you tell Ray? He’d be devastated.”

  “He ain’t gonna be devastated, especially now that he has a fiancée,” Jeff said, emphasizing the word fiancée sarcastically. “Besides, Bush is talkin’ about invading Iraq soon. I’m thinkin’ seriously of reenlisting in the army.”

  Buck’s posture went from slouched to ramrod straight. “Jesus, Jeff, you were awarded a fucking Silver Star in Desert Storm! Why risk going back?”

  “Thanks for the appreciation, dude, but I was doin’ my job.” Jeff paused, running his open palm over his short-cropped hair. “Right now, I’m more afraid of Susannah Baker than any Iraqi enemy. Maybe if we could uncover her story before Ray marries her, I’d feel differently.”

  “I don’t believe for a minute that our broadcast stopped her from committing suicide before she came here. If the program was that powerful, it wouldn’t require trickery now.” Buck clasped his hands behind his head. “And Ray, a guy who’s been a widower for a long time, fell for her hard and fast.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, bro. Not so much as a mention of another woman, then boom! Wouldn’t even admit that he and Susannah were livin’ together; it was this big secret. They honestly thought we didn’t know.”

  Buck’s arms were outstretched. “I’ve had my share of experience with picking the wrong woman. After enough bad choices, you become a good judge of character. There’s something not right about her tale of suffering. I tell you what. Let’s get on the internet in my office—there’s a new search engine called Google that’s pretty popular.” Buck stood up. “And maybe I can keep you from reenlisting and getting yourself killed.”

  Jeff laughed. “We haven’t even gone to war yet. Just somethin’ I’m considerin’. But I’m game for your internet search idea.”

  In his office, Buck motioned for Jeff to pull up a chair. “I recently go
t a broadband connection, sure as hell a lot faster than dial-up.” In the blank box above the colorful letters spelling out G-O-O-G-L-E, Buck typed in “Susannah Baker, St. Louis, MO” and hit search. There were pages of Baker family genealogy, and a few listed Susannah Bakers, but they had died decades ago.

  “Maybe Baker isn’t her real name,” Jeff suggested.

  “My gut instinct says it isn’t, but I haven’t got any proof of it.”

  “Yet.” Jeff moved his chair closer. “She must have a driver’s license because she had that old Buick she sold.”

  Buck sat back from the computer screen and looked at his friend. “You obviously have a strategy.”

  “Yeah, we get a copy of her driver’s license.”

  “How are you planning to do that?” Buck asked with a nervous twitch.

  “We get a copy of her license and take it to the St. Louis PD. A buddy of mine, Malachi Johnson, joined the force after we returned from Iraq. He’s a detective now. I’ll send him the information we’ve collected and explain the situation. He has access to other databases, and we’ll see if that’s even her real name.” Jeff’s arms opened expansively. “Even though we work in the building, we’ve got to get the layout down cold, specifically where she leaves her purse and the distance to the copier.”

  As edgy as their plan made him, Buck couldn’t believe what he said next. “Maybe we should go over there now and start memorizing the layout.”

  “Sounds like a plan, bro,” Jeff said with a hearty slap to Buck’s back. “Man, I haven’t felt this jazzed since I was a ranger!”

  28

  WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY SET

  Buck and Jeff channeled all energy into their covert operation. They set a deadline to come up with her license. Over three weeks, they monitored Susannah’s regular placement of her handbag in Ray’s office, always on a chair in the corner out of view. They memorized the building’s layout in case they required an escape route or hiding place. Ray’s office was almost never locked, but to be sure, Jeff and Buck checked and rechecked the door. Neither knew how to pick a lock, so if somebody decided a locked door was warranted, they were screwed.

  And then the plan unfolded. As Jeff filmed Ray ending the show in prayer, he realized tonight was going to be tricky, and everything had to fall exactly as it had over the previous few weeks. Through the camera’s lens, Ray finished the prayer of deliverance, and after a fifteen-second pause, Jeff yelled, “That’s a wrap!”

  Now that Buck had phone duty, Jeff had taken on the added responsibilities of stage director. Immediately, Ray and Susannah headed toward the entrance, shaking hands and chatting with parishioners.

  Buck would come up front and make sure Ray and Susannah kept their attention on the members. If everyone said their good-byes sooner than expected, Buck was charged with distracting them a bit longer. Buck was a talker, and he could gab endlessly about the merits of getting more employees answering donation requests.

  Nearly twenty minutes passed with no sign of Buck. Jeff saw the visitors’ line getting shorter; there were perhaps a dozen remaining. He suspected Buck was still taking donations. Adrenaline pumping, Jeff realized he would need to copy Susannah’s license himself. After he passed by the stage, he would no longer have visual contact and would be flying blind.

  He walked purposefully toward the office, glancing over his shoulder and assessing Ray and Susannah’s involvement in conversation. Maybe five minutes tops, he thought. At the office door, he turned the knob, pushing to open it. The door didn’t budge, and for a moment, panic crept up his spine. Was it locked? Shit.

  Jeff could still hear Ray and Susannah talking with members of the congregation as he gave the door a hard shove with his broad shoulders. The stuck door loosened, and he quickly entered Ray’s darkened office. He debated turning the lights on—how much time could he afford to waste looking for her bag in the inky blackness? He switched the fluorescent lights on and found her leather shoulder bag in the corner. He stopped to listen—chatter was still coming from near the exit.

  Opening her purse, he retrieved Susannah’s wallet and immediately found what he was looking for. Removing the Missouri driver’s license from behind the translucent plastic, Jeff sprinted to the copy room next door. The copier was warmed up, turned on beforehand. He placed her license on the glass and pushed start, the mechanism photocopying the document flashing beneath the cover.

  The copy complete, he folded the paper neatly and placed it in his back pocket. Rushing back to the office, Jeff could hear two or three distant voices. He didn’t recall his nerves being this shaky in Iraq. His fingers seemed fat and oversized as he struggled to return the license to its proper place and replace Susannah’s wallet.

  He never heard the footsteps. “Jeff, what are you doing in here? And with Susannah’s bag?” Ray’s voice was stern, edging toward accusatory.

  Jeff spun around, making up the lie as he spoke. “I thought I left my keys in here and came to look for them. I found them on the floor—they must’ve fell outta my pocket—and I knocked Susannah’s purse off the chair when I knelt to grab ’em. I spilled her stuff all over and just finished putting it all back. Totally my fault, Ray. I apologize.”

  From around the corner, Buck appeared slightly out of breath. “We need more staff answering the phone. We had over a hundred fifty calls tonight, and those are the ones I managed to get answered. There were probably others, but there’s no way I can continue to be the only person on the phone and monitoring conversations. I need help.”

  Buck’s plea diverted Ray’s attention from Jeff to the matter of money and staff.

  “Over a hundred fifty calls? That’s great, Buck! Any idea how much money we brought in?”

  It was a risk, but Jeff would have to take it. Buck and Ray stood in the doorway blocking his exit, and the only way out was to brush past them as if nothing had happened. Like bein’ in enemy territory, he thought to himself and slipped past the men engrossed in deep conversation.

  Ray’s attention was captivated by the numbers. “The good Lord blesses us indeed.”

  “Here’s another thing. We need phones answered during the rebroadcasts, and not by an answering service. Staff needs to be working the phones, the same as during the live broadcasts.”

  Buck had positioned his body between Ray and Jeff, giving his friend the opportunity to slip into the shadows, away from further questions.

  Jeff was safely in the hallway, their conversation fading. As he walked away, he heaved a huge sigh of relief at his quick thinking and went on as if nothing had happened.

  Minutes later, Jeff was completing his shutdown of all studio equipment when Susannah stopped him. “Have you seen Ray?”

  He was calm and polite. “He and Buck were discussin’ gettin’ extra help with the phones in Ray’s office, where I left ’em. There were lots of calls, which is good, but Buck can’t handle ’em all.” He grinned at her. “I’ve turned everything off and need to get goin’. Would you tell Ray I had to go, and I’ll see you all next week?”

  “I’ll tell him, Jeff,” she said, clearly excited. “Can’t wait to hear about all these phone calls. Have a good week.”

  “You too,” Jeff said, not meaning it at all.

  He grabbed his coat, and as he left the building, he patted his back pocket to make sure the paper was still there. He didn’t dare take it out to look at it; he would do that at home. I gotta call Malachi. We need the help of police to figure this out, he thought and drove off into the winter’s night.

  29

  SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2003 ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY SET

  Buck was regretting his appeal for assistance with callers. Ray had found Seth Benson and Cole Leon through his friend Doug Snyder, who helped recovering drug addicts turn their lives around, and Buck just hoped they could be trusted with money. His own recovery had taught him to be wary of tempting addicts with money that wasn’t theirs. However,
he had proven to Ray and his full-time employer that he could handle it. Don’t be so damned judgmental, he berated himself. Give these guys a fair chance.

  It was taking Jeff’s detective friend forever to come back with answers, but Buck realized this probably wasn’t a priority. He needed to focus his attention on training Cole and Seth. He hated that Ray was allowing Susannah to help. He couldn’t let her corrupt them by insisting they push would-be donors for larger amounts.

  Susannah smiled brightly as she instructed their newest employees. “It’s imperative we treat our donors as family so they’ll feel good contributing again. Double-check the amount they want to contribute, but don’t be afraid to ask if they can’t give just a little more, to help us do God’s work. After you write out the receipt, move onto the next call as quickly as possible.”

  Damn it, Susannah! I knew you should never be involved in training these guys. Buck figured he would have to quietly tell them not to be aggressive and ignore what Susannah said.

  “How many calls are we talking about?” Seth asked, tattoo sleeves of symbols and colors covering his arms.

  She answered before Buck could even open his mouth. “Two hundred calls at least. That’s the current number, correct?”

  Buck turned toward Susannah, his quizzical face questioning her statement. “No, that number is too high. For the live broadcast, the numbers are closer to one fifty. With the pre-recorded broadcasts, numbers tend to be lower.”

  Susannah shrugged Buck off. “That will change when we launch the live Sunday service next week. It’s only a matter of time before we get three hundred calls per broadcast. And they’ll keep climbing. Soon we’ll have a whole team in place, answering phones to meet the demand!”