Nothing Sacred

She was not going to allow herself to feel a bone-deep desire for a preacher.

She’d much rather be sexless.

SITTING OUTSIDE THE apartment building with Martha Moore in his Explorer on Monday night, David slipped in the audio book of a current bestseller he’d brought specifically for the occasion. Martha seemed as pleased as he felt to have something to do as they sat there staring at closed doors for two hours.

Half an hour into the thriller, he began silently reciting Bible verses. It was a trick he’d learned years ago, when he’d first been giving up his old life, his old self.

The Ten Commandments came immediately to mind.

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife….”

Unnecessary reminder. She wasn’t anyone’s wife, anyway.

“Blessed are they that hunger…for they shall be filled.”

David thought about the starving, homeless people on street corners in Phoenix. He always gave them money. People hungering for food. Not other things.

“I may have all the faith needed to move mountains but if I have not love, they do me no good…”

Love. Not in love. He sank lower in his seat, careful to make sure he could still see the parking lot and the door across the street.

“A man shall leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife….”

Where in the heck were these verses coming from?

“And the two shall become one flesh…”

“David! Look!”

He was looking. Sitting straight up even before Martha grabbed his arm. A large, dark-colored, new-looking car had just pulled into the parking lot. A Lincoln Continental, if he wasn’t mistaken.

It pulled slowly up to unit 14.

“Oh, my God.” Martha’s whisper seemed to echo through him.

David was already on his cellphone, dialing Greg.

“It’s David,” he said when the sheriff picked up. “We’re watching unit 14. Someone’s here.”

“I’m on my way.” Greg rang off before David could ask what the lawman wanted him and Martha to do.

Which meant they were in charge until he got there.

“Don’t let him out of your sight,” he said to Martha. Not that he’d needed to say the words. There was no way either of them was going to let this one get away.

“Oh my God, David, we’ve got him.” She grabbed his hand, held on so tight he could feel his own pulse beating. Or was it hers?

“We don’t know that it’s him,” he felt compelled to warn her. She was trembling.

A tall man dressed in a suit got out of the car, walked around to the other side and opened the door, then offered his hand to help the woman inside step out.

“It’s him.”

“Maybe.”

Th

e woman was wearing a short skirt and a jacket. And heels that were about three inches high. Her hair was down around her shoulders. With his hand at her back, the man guided—or pushed—her to the door. She looked back a couple of times.