“He’s gone,” Kreed said out loud, heading toward the surveillance room.
“I’m concerned,” Connors answered in his ear.
“Nah, he’s got this,” Kreed replied, not exactly certain of that, but it was the best they had right now. He went for the study window, lifting the blind a hair to see Aaron walking up the front walkway to the church. He took a seat behind the monitor, checking everything from his end.
“He’s in,” Connors said.
“I see that, Poindexter,” Kreed said, and Brown’s soft chuckle came through. Kreed moved to the monitor, the feed coming from the front of Aaron’s shirt. Like he’d done several times already, he reached for his weapon and palmed the pistol, checking the barrel. His bad feeling was escalating and they were officially game on now.
Chapter 14
Aaron’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might beat right out of his chest as he pulled the front doors of the church offices open. He barely felt the soothing heated air of the lobby entrance greeting him, mainly because he hadn’t even registered it was cold outside. He’d been too nervous as he walked across the street to think of anything other than how many different ways he could fuck up this whole operation.
Taking a deep breath, Aaron stepped inside the large white marble entrance hall and saw a single desk sitting to the side about midway across the room. He started for the receptionist, taking in all of his surroundings as he made his way across the marble floor. A large mural ran the length of one wall. His eyes followed the painting up to the intricately etched carvings on the ceiling and over the columns and arches. He kept his eyes up, feigning interest as he looked over the entire length of the church foyer while trying to calm the pounding of his heart.
Honestly, it wasn’t like he didn’t sneak around all of the time, because he did. He was also very used to hiding. So that couldn’t be the reason for all this anxiety coursing through him. So what the hell… I mean heck… Was the problem? He waited for the lightning bolt to strike for his bad-word slip in a so-called place of worship. Luckily, it never did.
“Can I help you?” an older woman with a deep Southern accent asked.
“I’m here—” His voice broke while saying those two words. He stopped talking, cleared his throat, and after a second, he tried again. “It’s so cold. I wish I had my inhaler.”
Okay, where had that come from? Way to improvise, asshole. Inhaler? Really? Way too stereotypical. Exactly what Kreed warned him not to do.
The woman smiled at him and lifted a finger while she answered the phone. To the direct right of the desk stood a white marble statue, and Aaron moved to the side, getting closer to read the name on the bottom. Pastor Gerald Albert Helps. Aaron’s eyes shot up to look at the guy’s face. A laugh bubbled up, and he had to fight the urge to let it out. Surely if they were going to pay homage to the founder of this extreme right-winged fundamentalist Baptist Church, they would do it with him looking a bit younger, because the guy’s image carved into this statue looked eighty-five years old if he were a day. Oh, man, that was funny. He hoped Kreed was getting a good look at this.
“I’m sorry, son. How can I help you?”
“I’m here for an interview for the IT position,” Aaron answered, schooling his features before turning back to face the woman.
“Hmm. They didn’t tell me they had any interviews today. Who are you interviewin’ with?” she asked. Her voice never changed, just very sweet and very Southern.
“His name was hard to pronounce,” Aaron said, hedging on that one. Who knew if Thomas Hasselbeck went by Tom or Thomas or if the information in his notes were even correct?
“Well, he’s not here this week. That’s the problem. I don’t know why he would’ve scheduled an interview when he knew he was on vacation. He took Christmas break off after the big celebration. You should have been here. Were you here?” she asked with a dreamy expression plastered on her face.
“No, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. “I stayed with my church family back home for Christmas. Let me check my email to make sure I got the date right.” Aaron reached for his phone in the front pocket of his slacks.
“Let me call our pastor’s office. They’ll know what to do.” She dialed and spoke to someone on the other end as he slid his finger across the screen. He worked quickly, giving the proper command to launch the shutdown.
“Pastor Helps’s secretary is on her way over. We only have one person here in the IT department, and he’s not in a position of authority, but we regularly can’t seem to find him anyway. She’ll be right with you, though,” the receptionist explained. Aaron glanced over to see her smiling sweetly before looking down at her computer. He’d been dismissed as she went back to typing away. Aaron took a step or two back and waited. One thing he noticed as being a little weird—the front lobby was void of crosses or any real references to or artifacts about a place of worship. The sound of high-heeled shoes clicking on the marble floor grew louder, drawing his attention to the back of the room. Right before the person came into view around the corner, the receptionist gave a very frustrated, “Pooh!”
Aaron stood there a little shocked. This place just got weirder and weirder. The woman came around the corner, wearing a tight-fitting leopard print dress. She had long, bleached blond hair and wore a pair of black patent leather stripper shoes. Her stride reminded him of a model on the catwalk with over-exaggerated steps as she moved forward.
“What’s wrong, Stella?” the woman said as she stopped by the desk first.
“I was just finishing the list of new email addresses and the system kicked me out. Now I can’t log back in.”