My Dad cocked his head, furrowing his brow as he dug deep into his memory. He smirked, "I think I do. A little girl whose father owned Ocel Steel and Avondale Metallurgical Conglomerates? I do remember her, showing her how to smelt steel and use the pour crane." He grinned brightly, "You grew up pretty good, Bits."
Claire returned his grin, looking at my Mom and I, "I did." she focused on me, "It only took me twenty years to meet your amazing little girl, Walter."
He shook his head, "Unbelievable! Bits, I thought you would end up as a chemist or a metallurgist with your fascination of steel and how it all bonded together. You asked a million questions that was well above my community college degree."
My Dad walked over to Claire, grabbing her in a huge bear hug, almost picking her up off the floor. He was laughed as he squeezed her, "Some things are meant to be." He set her down, holding her out at an arm's length, "I am still shocked that the messy blonde kid with crazy tangled hair and dirty clothes is this beautiful, elegant woman standing in front of me." He shook his head and stood back, my Mom giving him a look. "Ah, I will tell you all about when we get back to the hotel." He took my Mom's arm, "Let's get out of here and let these two girls enjoy the rest of the evening."
Claire and I walked my parents out, hugging one more time before waving them off as they drove away in their rental car. When the car turned the corner, I shot Claire a look, "Bits?"
"It's short for Elizabeth. My middle name. Davidek called me Bits from the first day he met me. Saying I was so small I looked like tiny little bits of a person. It stuck and still sticks when I am around my family." Claire smiled, embarrassed, "When he greets me in Czech, he is calling me Bits."
I laughed, holding the Lincoln's passenger door open for her, "And you met my father twenty years ago?"
"I did. He wanted me to meet you and make friends with you. I think he felt bad my only friends were my books and my brain. I was pretty awkward and nerdy when I was little. I only had Davidek, no girlfriends." Claire sat down, turning her body towards me. "Take the two days, Kit. Spend time with your parents. Davidek will be here tonight and I know he will be more than happy to stay with me." She slid her hand over my shoulder, letting it rest on the curve of my shoulder, "I see how much they love you, and I want you to have your family back."
I sighed, leaning over the console, gently pulling her closer to me, our lips meeting in a long overdue kiss. I had wanted to kiss her the moment she came back to the table from the bathroom with my mother. I saw in her eyes what she had done, also seeing the relief in my Mom's eyes. I felt Claire push harder against my mouth as I coaxed her mouth open with my tongue, making her sigh with a moan following. I leaned back, watching her lick her lips but look in my eyes this time. I smiled, my hand sliding to her cheek, my fingers grazing her jaw, "Thank you."
I paused, not finishing the rest of what I had planned to say, I didn't have to. I realized with Claire, the less words we spoke the more we actually said. I kissed her softly one more time before driving off. I would take the two days she offered, but spend only one with my parents.
Early the next morning I left her sleeping in my bed, a note next to Norbert on the bedside table telling her I would call her later, tell her I was going to an early breakfast with my parents and would spend the day going into a late dinner with them.
I clenched tightly around the steering wheel, driving down the freeway for hours, only looking up when the bright blue and white sign stating Tennessee was welcoming me into their borders.
Chapter 20
I pulled off at a gas station and a diner to refuel the car and get some coffee, I was somewhere in the area where the CIA and FBI Intel stated the Church of the Rising Son was setting up their main compound. I stood outside, leaning against the Lincoln as I pumped the gas, enjoying the warmer temperatures and snow free roads that came with being further south.
I frowned, watching semi-trucks roll past on the highway, feeling a drop in my stomach thinking about when Claire would figure out where I had gone. It was only a matter of time before she did, I couldn't fool a genius, I could only get a jump start on her, hope I could get in, get out and back to D.C. before she came for me.
Folding up the map with my notes and plotting, I walked into the diner. A typical roadside diner with neon signs, vintage coca cola and beer signs lining the walls. There was long bar top style seating facing the kitchen and a handful of booths with bright red vinyl seats along the windows. My only other companions in the diner were a few truckers at the bar, reading newspapers as they ate elephant sized hamburgers, an old couple having their early supper along the window that faced the gas station and one lone man in the back eating a piece of pie reading the local paper.
I took a seat at the counter, sliding on the cushy red vinyl seat, setting my map and phone that was teasing me with one bar of signal, disappearing the moment I picked the phone up to try to use anything. I set the phone down as a waitress, who looked like she was Flo's body double from the TV show Alice, came up to me. Red hair piled up on her head in a perfectly combed and sprayed rat's nest, heavy makeup, and a bright mustard yellow with white collar waitress uniform. When I looked at her name tag I had to look down at the menu to hold in the laugh. Flo.
"Hey darlin' what can I get you?"
Flo's southern accent told me she may have been in a pageant or two in her youth, a southern twang of a southern lady. I smiled, having recovered, "A cup of coffee for now."
Flo turned to fill the cup while I looked over the menu, all the usual fare for a greasy spoon roadside diner. When Flo returned with my hot cup of coffee, setting down a small plate of sugar and creamers, she nodded at my map. The big red circle in the area of where the church was suspected to be.
"Dollywood is two miles north of your circle, darlin'." She tapped a long finger with a baby blue polished fingernail. "People always want to go further south for some reason." Flo pulled out a white and green pad, "So, you decide on something? Billy's cheeseburger is pretty tasty."
"That sounds good enough for me." I handed the menu over, "And maybe you can help me out? I am looking for a church that might be in this area." I slid the map over, pointing at the red circle. "It's called the Church of the Rising Son."
Flo bent closer to the map, "A church? Hmm. That's different. The only city folk I ever see in here are headed down to Dollywood for summer vacations or a quick escape from the northern winters." Flo tucked her pencil in her red hair, "Ain't nothing around here worth seeing other than that." She picked up the map to hold it closer, "You are in the right place, but I can't recall if there is a church with that name around here." She looked at me, "We have the first Baptist down the hill, then there is St. Mary's over up on the hill, and then down around the curve is People's Presbyterian." Flo set my map back down so she could hand Billy my order slip. Leaning on the counter, Flo smiled at me, "You should talk to Father Ken." She nodded to the older man sitting in the back of the diner, "He's out of St. Mary's but he knows the comings and goings of this little holler. He is the man of the cloth to ask." Flo winked at me before setting about checking on her other customers.
I turned to Father Ken, he was the older man eating pie in the back and looked to be in his early sixties with neatly trimmed hair and wire framed glasses. Reading over his newspaper with a soft smile as he sipped coffee.
I grabbed my cup of coffee, map and phone, walking over to the booth. I smiled, standing at the edge of the booth, "Excuse me, Father Ken?"
The man turned at the sound of my voice, smiling genuinely with bright green eyes, "Yes, how may I help you my dear?"
"The waitress, Flo, told me that you are the man to talk to about the churches around here?" I was putting on my best Sunday school manners, this man made me feel like I was six again hiding behind my mom as she tried to get me to say hi to the Sunday school staff.
Father Ken smiled wider, holding his hand out, "Please take a seat, and I will tell you what I know, Ms.?"
"Ki
t, my name is Kit." I slid into the booth, setting my coffee down and map in front of me.
"Kit that is a unique name for a lady." When he smiled I felt like confessing all of my sins to him, feeling as if he could forgive me easier than I could myself or anyone else. I nodded, "I hear that a lot."
Father Ken folded his newspaper away, "So Kit, what church is it you have questions about? Are you looking to join a congregation down here?"
I paused, I had to tell him something that was not the truth, yet, at the same time I couldn't bring myself to lie to a priest. I settled on a muddied half- truth, "My cousin just moved down here, told me about this new church she was thinking of joining so she could have her wedding there in a few months." I unfolded my map, "I am her maid of honor and I drove down to get a look at the church and get some more information about their wedding services."
I pointed at the red circle, "My GPS and phone stopped working and I am a little lost. I am looking for the Church of the Rising Son and my cousin’s directions have me around here. I can't get the address from my email." I shrugged, smiling.
Father Ken glanced at the map over his glasses, "Ah, the Church of the Rising Son." He sat back in the booth, reaching for his coffee cup, "That church, if you want to call it that, is over on route seven. They bought the old Roadway Motel five months ago. The large one with the rec center in the back of the property."
He glanced at me, hoping I was taking notes of what he was telling me. "Tell your cousin that the church is not a place to be married. They are a group of strange people. They worship the lord in a nontraditional ways." Father Ken smiled as Flo set my grease laden cheeseburger in front of me.
I picked up a napkin, setting it on my lap, "What do you mean Father?"
He set his cup down, furrowing is brow lightly, "I went over to greet them, welcome them to the community. Happy to see they were bringing new life to an old broken piece of property." He met my eyes again, "There were trucks and a handful of men and women moving things, fixing up the buildings. I was met less than warmly and when I asked to speak to the lead priest or pastor, I was taken to a small building. Escorted by men I could tell had guns on their hips, to a dark room." Father Ken moved his empty pie plate around, "The man I spoke with was hidden in the shadows and spewed chapter and verse from the bible, but it was twisted. The lord’s words twisted into those of hate and spite."
I leaned closer, "Can you explain further, Father? And did you see the man you spoke to or know what his name was?"
Father Ken met my eyes, his happy softness shifted hard, "They are using the lord as an excuse to spread hate and hurt. I can see it in the way the congregation carry themselves and move about in secrecy." He paused, "I also saw some things in the last few weeks that I felt it was better for the police to investigate." His smile returned slowly, "The man I spoke to was named Alistair Montgomery. The church he runs is not a church, it's a lie held in the name of the lord."
I picked at my fries, "What does this Alistair look like? My cousin said she only saw his pictures on a brochure." I knew I was taking a risk asking, breaking away from the maid of honor story I was using.
Father Ken shrugged, "I really don't know what he looks like. I was taken to an office in the back of the rec center. The room was dark, with shades drawn over windows and candles as the only light. Alistair, if it was him, sat in the far back of the room and spoke." He furrowed his brow, recalling memories, "He had a strange accent that bounced from eastern Maine to the delicate Carolinian of North and South. There was a rasp to it that gave his voice a slight feminine tone." The Father looked back up at me, "He was a shadow that spoke, a shadow that is very good at deceiving those around him. His followers follow him blindly, like a starving cat to milk. Never have I seen people bend and break to a man's simple word. Not even in the lord's name."
He leaned closer to the table, "If anything, you and your cousin should tread as far as way as you can from that man and his disciples. They are nothing but pure evil and trouble." He removed a pen from his coat pocket, pulling the map over to him. I watched as he scribbled the name of the motel and the address, "But I suggest you take a look before the other suited gentleman do." He clicked the pen close, tucking it away. I gave him a curious look, making him laugh lightly.
"I might be a priest and have been for almost twenty years, but before I found the cloth I was a man in the army CID. I can tell a terrible government suit a thousand clicks away, that and the way all CIA men walk. A swagger of ill begotten confidence." Father Ken collected his newspaper and coat, "There were three men in terrible government suits two hours ago asking the same questions you are, Kit. They are waiting until morning to investigate further." Picking up his things and bill he started towards the cash register, "Something is terribly wrong with that church if you and the spooks are interested in it." He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, "Get there first, Kit, I can tell in your eyes you will do the right thing by your cousin." I was given a big smile, a pat on my shoulder before Father Ken moved to chat with Flo.
I bit into my cheeseburger, staring at the address written above the red circle. Dusk was setting in and night would quickly follow, giving me the cover I would need to sneak onto the grounds. I ate my dinner, staring out the window, eavesdropping on Flo telling one lonely truck driver about her '73 win in the Pigeon Forge Pigeon Queen pageant. Trying to ignore the dreadful feeling building in my stomach.
I had taken my time eating my greasy dinner, letting daylight dip further into the rosy dusk that was moving through the mountains and trees. I paid Flo at the register, smiling as she handed me a Dollywood brochure and map with my change.
I followed Father Ken's directions written on the map, driving past the motel. The old red and cream sign was still up almost forty years later. Arrows pointing me towards color TV's and air-conditioned rooms. I glanced at the motel quickly when I drove by once, moving to park the Lincoln along the side of a busy convenience store. I parked the car between a few other cars that looked to be employees, angling it so I could clearly see the motel but, not be noticed as traffic came and went.
I watched the motel for two hours, the sun setting into complete darkness. A deep darkness that only came when you were far away from a big city and the light pollution it threw up into the night sky. The motel's front lot was partially lit, giving me a good view if people came and went in cars or on foot.
When I felt as comfortable as I could be when creeping over into the potentially hostile area, I left the Lincoln. Grabbing my gun and a small flashlight, I walked down the opposite side of the street. Tucking my chin deep into my coat collar to hide my face. I knew at this time of night I would not look too out of place, just someone leaving the convenience store after buying cigarettes or a large bottle of beer.
I walked past the motel before crossing and using the thick brush and tree cover to move up to the edge of the property and sit in the cover of brush. I huddled behind a thick willow tree, watching again for any sign of life or immediate threats. Father Ken had mentioned it appeared the church was either moving on or had already moved. He had not seen much activity over the last few days and saw less and less of the unsavory characters the church attracted eating at the diner or bothering Flo.
Scanning around the motel it did seem to have had life brought into its walls recently, but it still looked like all the other roadside motels tucked into the pockets of rural America. Untouched by time, yet abandoned by time.
The rooms were lined up, forming an L-shaped section that met in the middle as it pushed into a large peaked building. One that carried huge glass windows that were now boarded up, neon signs that boasted the indoor pool and family fun center, sat dark and unused. The rest of the property looked clean and repaired. There were tire tracks throughout the dirt driveway, going from room to room and to around the back of the rec center.
I let twenty minutes pass before I was finally satisfied it was clear, I then took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I knew I
had to be cautious, I had no legal authority to be here or to search any of the buildings. I would be charged with trespassing or worse if caught by a church member. I was just as much a target as Claire was these days, they would know by now who I was and what my purpose was. Especially after the Pepperdine incident.
I moved my gun to the front of my waist, stood up and walked through the last of the brush. Avoiding the bright lights on the buildings and the blobs of orange light falling from the tall light poles placed randomly around the front parking lot. Two more were illuminating the side of the first building crammed against the rec center.
Creeping along the side of the first building closest to me, I peeked up into the window. The ambient light from the tall light poles pushed in through the cracks of the boards on the front facing windows. I could clearly see a desk and a chair, cluing me in that it was the old motels front check in office, and still looked to be in use now.
I pressed against the wall, "Good place as any to start." I mumbled to myself, walking slowly along the wall towards the back of the office where I found an old back door. An old door that took less effort than I expected to pick and push open. I stood to the side, using my foot to push the door open wider, my gun drawn and at the ready.
When the door was open wide enough, I listened, listening for any shuffling feet, breathing, snoring or the hum of a security system or cameras. Happy with the lack of all those distinctive sounds, I entered the office, closing the door behind me I moved to the windows. Shutting the blinds on all of them tightly before turning on my flashlight.
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