“It isn’t right!” Vince said. He felt like crying from the frustration of their situation. He was kneeling beside the wounded man. “It just isn’t fair!”
“No, it isn’t fair,” Reverend Powell said, looking directly into Vince’s eyes. “But sometimes when you obey the will of God, that may not seem fair to you either. Abraham didn’t think it was fair when God asked that he sacrifice his only son for him. And he would have done it, too.”
“Which way do I go?” Frank Black barked. They had come to an intersection. To their right lay a farmhouse; to the left was open fields.
“Right,” Vince said.
“Do as I say,” Reverend Powell said from the rear of the van. “For your sake, for the sake of the world, take your stuff and the evidence Maggie collected and leave.”
“And do what with it?” Vince asked. He felt that they were losing a war that was already lost. “What’s the point?”
“We have to find this Mary Ann girl,” Mike said. He was sitting next to Reverend Powell, patting his shoulder and keeping another hand pressed on the shirt that he held over the gunshot wound. “Maybe she’ll talk to us.”
“Yes, find her,” Reverend Powell said. “And if you can…” He coughed violently. Mike Peterson held him back so he wouldn’t tumble out of the seat. “If you can, take this information to your contact. Take the information to the press. This group must be exposed.”
Frank swung the mini-van into Reverend Powell’s driveway. “What if nobody believes us?”
“Just do it,” Reverend Powell said. His eyes glazed over, then refocused again. “I’ll… pray for you.” Then he blacked out.
Chapter Fifteen
WHEN THEY GOT to Reverend Powell’s home they operated like a well-oiled machine. Vince and Mike helped Hank inside while Frank dashed in ahead of them and quickly gathered their belongings. Mike lowered Hank onto the sofa in the living room while Vince headed downstairs to the basement for the box of evidence in the storeroom. By the time he was back upstairs, Frank had emerged from the bedrooms with their overnight bags. Frank looked nervous. “Okay, let’s get going.”
Vince still felt ashamed and guilty for the trouble that had exploded around them. “I’m so sorry,” he told Reverend Powell.
“It’s okay,” Reverend Powell said. He’d just regained consciousness and Mike had brought him a glass of water. Mike’s bloodied shirt was still clamped to his belly. “Just… call me an ambulance. And… who has my keys?”
Frank rushed to the kitchen and began dialing 911 as Mike held up the keys.
“The little gold key…” Reverend Powell said, his face strained with great pain. “It opens the lock on the box. Take it.”
Mike Peterson quickly took the key off and pocketed it, then changed into a fresh shirt. “I’m sorry to have to be so abrupt about this, Reverend but… you’ve never seen us.”
Reverend Powell nodded, wincing. “No… I haven’t…”
Frank rushed back into the living room. “There’s a rescue unit on the way. Let’s go.”
Vince had only a few seconds to look back at Reverend Powell as he headed out the door. He said, “I’m sorry,” again and joined Frank Black and Mike Peterson in the rented Pontiac. Mike drove and the rest of the afternoon became a quick blur.
THROUGHOUT THE DRIVE to Ephrata, Mike kept barking at Frank to duck down below the windows. “Your description is going to be all over the police broadcasters and if a cop sees us we are dead meat,” Mike said. “Stay the fuck down!”
Frank stayed down during the drive to the Ephrata motel as Vince sat in the front seat silently, staring out the window. When they got to the motel, Mike headed to their room first to get some wet towels. When he came back he wiped down the steering wheel and front seat. “We don’t have time to shower and change clothes,” he said, looking at Vince. “There’s no blood on you. What about you, Frank?”
“I’m fine.”
Mike wiped his bloodied hands and arms with the towel, getting most of the blood off. “Let’s consolidate these bags,” he said. “Frank, empty your bag and put your stuff in Vince’s.”
Frank did as he was told. When he was finished, he handed the empty travel bag to Mike, who tossed the bloodied towels inside. Mike zipped up the bag. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to check us out. How do I look?”
“Nervous as shit,” Frank said.
“Okay.” Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remained that way for a moment, taking deep breaths, and when he opened his eyes again he looked a little calmer. “Now?”
“Less stressed,” Frank said. He peeked out the window. “I don’t think you have a lot to worry about, dude.” He motioned toward the end of the motel. “I think the people that run this place are used to seeing nervous looking guys.”
Vince followed his gaze. A thin woman wearing blue jeans and a tight halter-top was standing at the side of the motel, talking on a pay phone. She had shoulder length brown hair that looked like it was microwaved dry and she was wearing high heels and too much make-up. “Besides,” Frank said, “didn’t you notice that this place also rents by the hour?”
“Good point,” Mike said. He headed to the office to check them out. He returned a moment later. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”
Mike piloted the vehicle back onto 272, then onto 222. Fifteen minutes later they were on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, heading to Harrisburg. “Just stay cool,” he said as he drove at a cautious sixty-five miles per hour. He’d put on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that Vince retrieved for him. “All the activity is back in Lititz now and probably at Reverend Powell’s.”
“I hope he’ll be okay,” Vince said.
“So do I,” Mike said.
They were silent as they made their way into Harrisburg. Mike stayed on the expressway. “Do you know Harrisburg?” he asked.
Vince shook his head. “Not really.”
“Where’s the airport?”
“There,” Frank said from the back seat. He was lying down across the back seat and he pointed up at one of the exit signs. The sign read HARRISBURG AIRPORT EXIT, 2 MILES.
“Great,” Mike said, switching lanes to get onto the right expressway.
“Don’t you think the cops will think to look for us near any airports?” Vince asked.
“We’re not flying out of here,” Mike said. “We’re just going to stay overnight in a hotel that’s within close proximity to the airport, that’s all.”
“The bigger, the better,” Frank said.
“Why?” Vince couldn’t think straight. As far as he was concerned, they should be trying to get the hell out of Pennsylvania, not stay in Harrisburg near the airport.
“Frank, did you bring any long-sleeved shirts?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, I brought one.”
“Put it on, and tie your hair back in a pony tail. Are you adverse to getting it cut?”
“No. In fact, maybe one of you can cut it for me in the room and I can find a barber or a stylist at whatever hotel we’re staying at.”
“Good plan.” Mike took the next exit.
“Why the hell are we talking about Frank getting a haircut?” Vince said. “Why aren’t we getting the hell out of here?”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Mike said as he came to a stop at the end of the exit ramp, “Frank is going to be the one person that sticks out in the minds of all those witnesses back there in Lititz. You and I look pretty normal, but they’ll remember Frank pretty easy. They’ll probably say some kind of biker-looking guy was involved, and that’s who the cops will be looking for. We need to change his appearance as quickly as possible, and that means a drastic change. You and I are going to have to do a little bit of altering of our appearances as well.”