Redemption

by Laurel Dewey

  “Yeah. But it’s a life worth living, Jane.” Sawyer hesitated, sensing a greater need from the person on the other end of the phone.

  Jane saw Kit heading for the glass double doors. “I gotta go. Thanks for returning my call.”

  “My pleasure. You got me thinking again. It feels good.”

  “All right, well—” Jane started to hang up when Sawyer spoke up.

  “Hey, you know who you should talk to? Dr. John Bartosh. He headed The Lamb of God Congregation. There’s something about him.”

  “In what way?”

  “I don’t know. When you talk to him, you’ll see what I mean. You gotta do it.”

  “Okay.” Jane turned around as Kit exited the health store. “Thanks again.” Jane hung up and stealthily slid the cell phone into her coat pocket, unbeknownst to Kit.

  “Ready to go?” Kit yelled across the parking lot.

  Jane turned around and nodded. As she walked to her car, she realized she hadn’t asked Sawyer for his impressions on Kit. Still, she mused, if Sawyer had any misgivings about Kit, he certainly would have offered them. Climbing into the car, Kit took a sip of her carrot juice and gingerly placed a bag of groceries behind her seat.

  “I got us some healthy treats for the road,” Kit said with a joyful ring. “Carob covered almonds, yogurt sticks, sesame crunches, spirulina energy balls—”

  “Spirulina energy balls? What the—”

  “They’re better than coffee and they’ll do wonders for your colon! Your shit will be green and glorious!”

  “Lovely,” Jane muttered as she retrieved a phone book from under her seat.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “Dr. John Bartosh. He’s in Grand Junction now, right?”

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Kit’s demeanor turned suspicious.

  Jane continued to flip through the phone book. “We’ll be in Grand Junction in less than three hours. I want to talk to him face-to-face.”

  “Why would you want to bother with Bartosh?” Kit’s tone was becoming increasingly indignant. “You’d be matching wits with an unarmed man! Jane, trust me, spending time with Bartosh is like being awake during your own surgery.”

  “I’ve got a high pain threshold.”

  “He’s as much fun as root canal without the positive outcome!”

  “Positive outcome?”

  “At least with root canal, the agony eventually stops.”

  “Kit, in order to work this case, I have to get to know all the people who are involved. Bartosh fits into that category.”

  “He won’t talk to you when he finds out you know me.”

  “So I won’t tell him.” Jane slid her finger down the page of names and found Bartosh’s phone listing and address.

  She had to look twice at the name of the street: Eagle Road.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Jane, Bartosh will not agree to talk to you! He doesn’t trust anyone in the secular world!”

  Jane’s attention was still drawn to Bartosh’s street name: Eagle Road. Was this another one of those coincidences that had been occurring rather frequently lately? Ten minutes before, Detective Charles Sawyer had described the legend of Pico Blanco where Ashlee’s body was found. There were the sacred birds: the Eagle, Crow, Raven, Hummingbird, and Hawk who helped the waters recede after the great flood. Bartosh could have lived on any street. Why did he happen to live on Eagle Road?

  “Jane?” Kit said, sounding like a schoolmarm. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Jane said, coming back to her senses. “He doesn’t trust the secular world. Fine. I’ll pretend to be someone else. I’ll play a role. I’m good at that.”

  “What types of roles have you played in the past?”

  “A hooker, a junkie, a drug dealer. I played dead in a morgue once so I could hear a conversation between two perps who came to view their dead brother.”

  “Dear, I don’t think any of those roles will be helpful in dealing with Bartosh. We could possibly use the playing dead one, but it would be a stretch.”

  “For Christ’s sake! I can figure out a workable angle so he’ll agree to see me!”

  “Not with your sailor’s mouth, you won’t! All it’ll take is one slip-up of ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ and you’ll blow your cover! And then what?”

  Jane sat back and looked at Kit intently. “I thought you had faith in me.”

  “I do,” Kit replied without reservation. “But you don’t know the born-again Christian lingo. They have their own way of speaking so as to properly identify one another. Just like African Americans and Texans.”

  “You’re shittin’ me!”

  “Do you know the difference between a Fundamentalist, an Evangelical, and a Protestant?”

  “We’re doing Christian riddles?”

  “You don’t know, and yet you’re willing to go into Bartosh’s lair unprepared! Fundamentalists are Christians who believe the Bible is the literal, inerrant word of God, and is correct not only in its religious or moral teachings, but also in its scientific and historical claims. God literally created the world in six days. God literally created Eve from Adam’s rib. Jesus is God. Evangelicals are Christians who say they have a more personal relationship with Jesus. Bartosh is a Fundamentalist and he’s as literal as they come! His Fundamentalist dogma allows him to be unburdened by introspection.”

  Jane smiled at Kit’s clever observation. “And Protestants?”

  “Protestants are middle of the road, wishy-washers who aren’t committed to Jesus with the proper fervor that’s needed to spread God’s Word. Fundamentalists and Evangelicals believe that it’s not enough to say you believe in Jesus. It’s every true Christians’ mandate to talk about Him by ‘The Great Commission of Christ.’ Protestants are known as the ‘sidelines.’ To Fundamentalists and Evangelicals, Protestants are a dying sect of Christianity; a group with no firm mission statement. Protestants keep their faith private, whereas the New Christian constantly witnesses for Jesus. Then there are the secular elitists.”

  “And they are?”

  “Also doomed because they have no real religion at all. Secular elitists are usually East Coasters. The gin and tonic crowd. Daddy’s old money. You’ll hear the words ‘secular elitist’ coming out of Bartosh’s mouth a lot if you get in the door!”

  “What else?”

  “Oh, there are too many to list. ‘Wonder-working power.’ It’s from the Bible. It’s also a line in an old gospel hymn that sings of changing the world through divine, not human, intervention. The New Christian carefully drops it into conversations. Some believe that by saying ‘wonder-working power,’ it’s a sort of wink-wink code to let others know you are part of ‘the chosen.’”

  Jane was impressed by Kit’s grasp of the subject. “How does a pseudo Buddhist like you know all this stuff?”

  “Well, when I’m not chanting, burning incense, or designing intricate sand mandalas, I actually read outside my scope of spiritual interest. In order to know the beast, you must study them.”

  “You mean, in order to hate them?”

  “I don’t hate them!” Kit’s said. “I don’t trust them. There’s a single-minded, arrogant attitude that many of them possess. I wouldn’t accept that behavior from anyone—a Jew, an Arab, or a Buddhist! It just so happens that Jesus got tagged as the sacrificial lamb two thousand years after they sacrificed him the first time!” Kit continued to clue in Jane with additional lingo: “Witness for the faith,” “Divine mission,” and “Having the heartbeat.” “Isn’t the true purpose of talking to Bartosh so you can find out about Lou? Well, how can the subject of Lou Peters logically happen without it looking suspicious? Bartosh is desperately paranoid. Bring up Lou and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “Why is he so paranoid?”

  “Bartosh truly believes that secular society is out to get Lou. He’s firmly committed to Lou’s innocence. If you make one wrong move, we’re screwed!”

  “How are we screwed?”


  “By Bartosh delaying us! We need to get to California as quickly as possible!”

  Jane turned and stared out the car window, quickly thinking of angles. She would need to create a win-win situation where she appealed to Bartosh’s sensitivities. “What trips his trigger?” Jane asked out loud. “God, right?”

  “Yes,” Kit answered uneasily.

  “What else?”

  “Youth. The destruction of the moral fiber that is tearing apart families—”

  “So, engaging him in a thoughtful exchange about society and the plight of our young people might spark his interest?” Jane said as she started to melt into the character she needed to become to nail a one-on-one tête-à-tête with Bartosh. “Our young people are at risk, Kit. It is only through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, that we can salvage their future.”

  Kit shifted in her seat. “Okay, you’re scaring me. Stop it!”

  Jane dropped character. “You believe I can do this now?”

  “I believe you can parody a religious role. But I’m not sure you can get your foot in the door and maintain that role for longer than a few minutes.”

  “Kit, I went undercover and played a child’s mother for over one month. I had an entire town hoodwinked by the con.” Jane said with a proud grin as she pulled out her cell phone. “If I can play a kid’s mother, I can sure as shit play a goddamned, Godfearing, Christian woman for a fucking hour!”

  “We’re screwed.” She let out a weary sigh. “I can’t talk you out of this?”

  “Why should you? You afraid I might learn something pertinent to your case?”

  Kit turned away with an uneasy shift in her seat. “I’ve told you everything. There’s nothing to hide.” Jane’s ear noted a slight upturn in Kit’s voice with the words: There’s nothing to hide. It was the same cadence that Jane always defined as a false statement. With Kit, the underlying tone was not malicious...just untrue. “Go ahead!” Kit continued with a flick of her wrist. “Have your little chat with Bartosh.”

  “I need to see people and get a flavor for who they really are. Hell, if I could talk to the dead, I’d do it!”

  “You can talk to the dead. I talk to Ashlee every day.”

  Jane realized she stepped over the line. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you pain with that statement.”

  “Oh, Jane. You can only cause me pain if I give you the power to do so,” Kit replied with a decisive tone as she reached into the backseat and pulled a book from her bulging traveling bag. “If you’re going to do this, let’s get it done! But think this whole charade through before you call him! How are you getting your foot in the door?”

  Jane noticed a customer leaving the health food store, deeply involved in a magazine article. The light bulb went on in Jane’s head. “I’m a journalist...for a Christian magazine. And I’m writing a story on how to save today’s youth from the temptations that will certainly bring down our great nation.” Jane turned to Kit with a look of “What do you think?”

  A serious, somewhat frightened look enveloped Kit’s face. “Okay. That may work. Just don’t get cavalier. Bartosh may grant you your interview, but he’s not stupid. If he senses an ounce of deceit on your part and then chooses to investigate you on the spot and then finds me attached to you—Kit Clark, one of his most potent critics, well, do the math! We could easily get put into a very embarrassing predicament that could stick us in Grand Junction for days sorting it all out when we should be driving at lightning speed to California!” Jane nodded in agreement. “You better wear a skirt and blouse to see Bartosh. He doesn’t think much of women who wear pants. I saw a secondhand store on the way into town. You can find a conservative outfit in there. Now, what magazine do you work for?”

  Jane grabbed her laptop and did a quick search for leading Christian Magazines. “I’m a freelance writer for Christian Parenting Today.” Jane declared as she snapped the top of the laptop shut.

  “Are you using your real name?”

  “No, of course, not. My name is....” Jane looked around the parking lot and saw a posted sign that read: THIS SPOT RESERVED FOR JACKIE. Jane turned to Kit. “My name’s Jackie. And my last name is....” She casually turned over Kit’s book, a New Age tome titled Finding Your Inner Light & Joy. Pointing to the words “Light & Joy,” Jane revealed, “Lightjoy! Jackie Lightjoy!”

  “That’s a name you’d give a cartoon character who lives on a spaceship and drives a phallic-shaped car!”

  “Hey!” Jane said with a straight face as she dialed the number. “The Lightjoy family has dealt with that kind of derision for generations. And we don’t appreciate it!”

  “Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line was soft, gentle, and female.

  In an instant, Jane went into character. “Hello!” Jane replied in a quasi-reverential manner. “My name is Jackie Lightjoy and I’m a writer with Christian Parenting Today. Is this where I can reach Dr. John Bartosh?”

  “Yes. I’m his wife, Ingrid. What can I do for you?”

  Jane felt a hot rush of excitement. It always happened when she was knee-deep in a fresh ruse. “Mrs. Bartosh,” Jane continued in a respectful tone, “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from my colleagues at the magazine.”

  Ingrid Bartosh was taken aback. “Well...thank you. My husband is usually the one attracting the accolades....”

  Jane thought quickly. “That’s understandable. But you make it possible for him to shine and carry The Word of God.”

  “Oh, my,” Ingrid was touched by Jane’s words, “How can I help you, dear?”

  Jane flashed Kit a pious smile of victory and launched her pitch. “I’m writing a story...a cover story, for Christian Parenting Today on the many secular obstacles that are negatively affecting today’s preteen children. Especially young girls.” Jane caught a peripheral glimpse of Kit’s reaction. It was a contemptuous roll of the eyes and then back to reading her New Age book.

  “Well, that’s certainly an appropriate subject,” Ingrid replied in an ultra-contained tone. “What was your name again?”

  “Jackie. Jackie Lightjoy.”

  Kit couldn’t resist. “Beam me up, Jackie Lightjoy,” she whispered.

  Jane responded with a swift finger to her mouth to mime, “Shh!”

  “Jackie, yes,” Ingrid continued, “My husband isn’t here at the moment. This is the morning he heads The Brotherhood Council. He has some time available two weeks from Wednesday to speak on the phone—”

  “I was actually hoping to do something sooner and in person if at all possible—”

  “In person?”

  “I’m traveling through Colorado on family business. When my editor called to give me the assignment, it was just pure luck that one of the best contacts for our story lived in this wonderful state. And frankly, I do enjoy meeting people face-to-face.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ingrid said in a halting manner. “It’s just that my husband doesn’t usually speak to the media without fully researching the organization—”

  Jane was quickly reminded of Bartosh’s paranoia. A dead end was imminent. Jane was forced to do the unthinkable. She began to cry crocodile tears. “I understand,” Jane said with an audible catch in her throat. Kit looked up from her book and stared at Jane in bewilderment. “I’m sorry. I usually don’t get emotional like this. It’s been a tough week for me. Well, for our whole family. I said I was in Colorado on family business and, well, that business was the death of my seventeen-year-old niece...Janie.”

  “I’m so sorry. May God bless and keep her in his Divine home,” Ingrid said with sincere affection. “How did she pass into His arms?”

  “Well,” Jane poured on the intense emotion, “I hate to say it, but the darkness got hold of her. She turned from Jesus and chose the Devil’s temptations. First it was drugs and then it was alcohol and then it was....” Jane drew in her breath. “Sexual deviancy.”

  “Oh, dear,” Ingrid said with great empathy. “I am so sorry.�
��

  “Thank you,” Jane said in a choked whisper. Kit continued to watch this dramatic performance with a questionable gawk. “Apparently, Janie went to some horrible....” Jane made sure she confidentially whispered the next two words, “sex party. Things got out of hand and she was strangled to death by one of the boys at the party.”

  Jane could easily determine that Ingrid was sympathetic to the alarming story. “Have mercy on her poor soul,” she said in a faraway voice. “You say she was...seventeen?”

  “Yes. Seventeen.”

  Jane heard Ingrid’s voice catch. Somehow, the false story had struck a nerve with her. “It’s difficult at times to understand God’s plan for us and those we love so dearly.”

  “This wound to our family is still so fresh in our hearts.” Jane took a breath and went for the clincher. “To have your own flesh and blood die during an orgy forces one to step back and take comfort that the wonder-working power of God will heal our souls.” Kit’s mouth dropped open as she regarded Jane with a bemused gape.

  There was a thick pause on the phone.

  “Where did you say you are right now?”

  “About three hours from Grand Junction,” Jane said, her heart pounding as she felt the tug of the fish on her deceptive line.

  “I’ll make this interview happen for you, Jackie,” Ingrid said. “Perhaps this is Jesus’ way of getting the message out to other young girls at risk so that we can save a soul who is on the edge.”

  “God bless you, Ingrid. God bless you!”

  Jane hung up, dissolved out of character, and looked out into the distance with a self-satisfied grin.

  “And the Academy Award for the most deceptive and absurd performance that used the words ‘wonder-working power’ and ‘orgy’ within the same breath goes to....”

  “Kit,” Jane said, turning on the ignition, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

  CHAPTER 11

  With one hand on the steering wheel, Jane quickly checked her cell phone for messages and retrieved one from her brother.