"I'll call Elise and have her transfer all our calls to the DPS. I'll explain the situation to Nelson. He and his men can handle things for a day."
"I'm sorry. I don't think so, sir."
Jim sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "All right. Stay here then." He started down the hall.
"Sheriff?"
Jim turned around. "Yes?"
"What's going on here?"
"I'll be damned if I know."
"Me and Judson were talking about it the other night, and we decided that there's a lot of weird stuff's been going on."
Jim smiled tightly. "You got that right."
"No, I mean really weird stuff. We never told you, but we found little footprints out at the farmer's house. Strange little footprints. And I've been seeing a lot of strange things lately. A lot of people have.
I've heard 'emtalking."
"I know."
"The other night? When you thought you saw something in the back of the building? Judson said he saw it too, only he never told you."
Jim looked at his deputy sympathetically. The young man had been through a hell of a lot lately. "It's okay," he said reassuringly.
"We have it all under control. Hopefully, we'll have all this cleared up by the end of today. You just keep manning the phones there. I'll keep you apprised of all developments."
"Sheriff? If you need any help, you let me know. I don't know exactly what it is you're doing, but whatever it is, I'd be willing to help out."
"I know you would. And if I need your help, I'll tell you. Okay?"
Pete nodded. "Okay."
Jim smiled at the deputy. "Thanks, Pete. For everything." He paused, thinking. "You know Gordon Lewis?"
"The Pepsi guy?"
"Yeah. How about Father Andrews?"
Pete shook his head.
"Well, he's the priest that came to take over for Father Selway . If either of them come looking for me, send them to the back. I'll be in the conference room. And hold all calls." The deputy nodded acquiescence, and Jim walked down the hall toward the conference room.
Behind him, he heard the telephone ring and Pete answer.
Brother Elias was seated in a stiff-backed chair, wide awake, staring at the blank wall opposite him. He did not move as the sheriff entered the room. His eyes did not waver from their fixed point on the wall.
Jim stared at the back of the preacher's head. Technically, Brother Elias was still in custody, and Jim wanted to retain some measure of control over the preacher. Jim knew that he would not be calling the shots today, but he did not feel entirely comfortable subordinating himself completely to Brother Elias. He walked farther into the room and cleared his throat loudly, unsure of what to say, hoping the preacher would speak first.
Brother Elias remained silent.
"I got everything we need," Jim said, trying to make the statement sound as casual as possible under the circumstances. "The hospital gave me several different blood types. They said they couldn't spare a gallon of a single type. They don't have enough on reserve, and in case of an emergency, blood would have to be flown in from Phoenix. I wasn't sure what type we needed, anyway."
"It does not matter," Brother Elias said.
Jim pulled out a chair across the table from the preacher and sat down.
"Where are we going to start looking?" he asked. "How are we going to begin this thing?"
Brother Elias smiled slightly, but his eyes were cold. Jim recalled the nightmare he had had during the night, and as he looked into Brother Elias' eyes, he realized that he was a little afraid of the preacher.
"The others will be here soon," Brother Elias said. "We will talk then."
Jim sat back in his chair, glancing around the conference room. Though he had spent a lot of time in here interrogating suspects, he had never noticed how dingy the walls looked, how much in need of a paint job the room was. He would have to look into that, see if he couldn't get some funds to repaint the entire office. Perhaps make it a more cheerful color, get rid of that ugly grayish green the county had forced on him the last time.
If everything worked out today. If they survived.
"Most people believe that God has a penis," Brother Elias said.
Jim looked up sharply, shocked. "What?"
"Most people believe that God created man in his own image. Man has a penis. Therefore, most people believe that God has a penis."
Jim smiled. "It must be an awfully big one."
Brother Elias did not smile.
The sheriff coughed, embarrassed. "You don't believe God has a penis, I take it?"
The preacher shook his head. "God does not have specialized organs as does man. He does not have a penis, he does not have a stomach, he does not have a spleen."
Jim said nothing. He looked away from the preacher. He assumed that this bizarre conversation was Brother Elias' equivalent of small talk.
He said nothing more, hoping to drop the subject.
There was a knock on the outside of the conference room door.
"Come in!" Jim called.
Gordon stepped into the room, looking pale and a little scared. He was wearing a pair of ripped and faded jeans and an old checkered shirt. Over his shoulder was slung an expensive 35millimeter camera.
He nodded silently to Brother Elias and to the sheriff.
"Grab a seat," the sheriff said.
Gordon sat down to wait. A few moments later, Father Andrews entered the room. The sheriff stood up and motioned for him to take a chair.
He turned to face Brother Elias. "Well," he said, "we're all here."
The preacher nodded slowly. He looked at Gordon, his black eyes clear and unreadable. "I assume you would like to know why you are with us."
"Yes, I would," Gordon admitted.
Brother Elias stood up. "We all have our parts to play," he said. "We must all take the roles for which we were meant." He nodded toward the sheriff. "He is a protector, like his great-grandfather before him, and his great-grandfather before him. The adversary is strong, and there is an element of physical danger in our endeavor. We need his protection." His gaze shifted to Father Andrews. "He is a man of God, blessed with extrasensory ability. We need his ability to communicate with the adversary."
"Why do you need me?" Father Andrews asked. "Why can't you communicate?"
"I cannot," the preacher said simply. P "But you're a man of God as well."
Brother Elias smiled but said nothing. He turned to Gordon. "You, too, are to be a protector."
"But why me? I can't even--"
"Your wife is pregnant. The evil one wants your unborn infant. We need the added insurance provided by your personal involvement."
Gordon tried to swallow but his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He felt as though he was going to faint. He stood up and clumsily knocked over his chair. His legs felt weak. Marina! "I have to go," he said hurriedly. "I have to get her."
The preacher's eyes held him, forcing him to remain still. "You cannot leave."
Gordon willed himself to look away, he rushed to the door. "I have to get her!"
"If you do not come with us now, the adversary will surely get your unborn daughter."
Gordon's hand let go of the doorknob. He turned around.
"We need your strength. Your daughter needs your strength."
"Why?" Gordon asked.
"The Lord," said Brother Elias, "has always chosen special people to carry out his work, be it artistic, intellectual, or spiritual. The BachsandBeethovens , the ThomasEdisons and AlbertEinsteins , the Ghandisand Martin Luther Kings. He places these special individuals in different parts of the world, in different countries. Not all of them survive. In his jealousy and rage, Satan attempts to gather these individuals to him before they are born, to convert them to his own evil purposes, to spite and mock the Lord our God." He looked at Gordon. "Your daughter is just such a person. That is why the adversary is after her."