The Sacrifice (Robert Whitlow) by Robert Whitlow

Author:Robert Whitlow [Whitlow, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, ebook, book
ISBN: 9781418512552
Google: 2E1bAjgly8EC
Amazon: 0849945208
Barnesnoble: 0849945208
Goodreads: 1587710
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2000-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

23

I wish that all the LORD’S people were prophets and that the LORD would put his Spirit on them!

NUMBERS 11:29

In the heat of summer, every man walking out of Hall’s Chapel would strip off his jacket and loosen his tie by the time he took two steps across the parking lot. Today, the remnants of the morning fog had burned off in the noontime heat, but the temperature was still cool enough to be comfortable. Most of the women disappeared into the section of the church where Scott and Leland Humphrey first talked with Bishop Moore. In a few minutes casserole dishes covered in aluminum foil and plastic cake carriers began pouring forth from the fellowship hall.

“That was a different kind of church service,” Kay said. “But I liked it, especially the music.”

“I had trouble with the choreography,” Scott said.

Kay laughed. “It’s a rare white male who has any rhythm.”

“Toward the end of the sermon, I thought Bishop Moore was about to single me out. It made me nervous, but the bishop had mercy on me.”

Alisha Mason came up and greeted them.

“Mrs. Wilson, come meet my family. I’ve told my mother a lot about you.”

Kay left with Alisha, and the man who sang the solo before the sermon introduced himself to Scott. After some small talk, Scott decided to gather information in an informal way.

“Were you here on the day of the shooting?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the bishop was baptizing some folks and shots were fired. I grabbed my little boy and ran back to the church.”

“Did you see anybody on the other side of the stream?”

The singer shook his head. “No.”

“Is there anyone else that knows more about what happened?”

“I’m not sure. I think the bishop is the one who saw the most.”

“Yeah, I’ve already talked to him, and he seemed to remember more details. Was he wearing his glasses when he was in the water baptizing the people?”

The man paused. “I can’t remember. He always wears glasses because his eyesight is so poor, but I can’t be certain that he had them on during the baptism service.” The man pointed to the stream. “Preachers have been known to baptize themselves over there if they step on a slick rock.”

“Do you think he had them on?”

“I really can’t say. Sorry.”

The man left and another walked up. Scott went through a similar series of questions without learning anything new. It seemed that the incident happened so fast and the underbrush on the other side of the stream was so dense that it would have been hard to tell who or what was there. Neither man could remember whether Bishop Moore was wearing his glasses.

Two long tables positioned end-to-end were heavy-laden with a cross-section of favorite recipes. Bishop Moore found Scott and Kay and brought them to the head of the serving line.

“You’re our guests, so you have to go first.”

“What about the children?” Kay asked.

“They can follow you,” the bishop said. “In my day, the youngsters had to wait until the adults finished.

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