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between his thumb and index finger. He bragged about being a former gang member when he loaded my ’72 Land Rover onto a flatbed truck when it broke down up on Sugarloaf Key a few months ago.

Could Reverend Hellfire have gang connections?

I tried the door but of course it was locked.

I couldn’t see much through the dusty windows next to the door. I’d walk around back, but all the brush—

“Who the hell’re you?”

I jumped at the sound of the voice that boomed from behind me. I turned and saw a man in shorts and a black t-shirt, medium height but solidly built with light mocha skin and the piercing gaze of a wolverine.

“Why you looking in my windows?”

And an accent I couldn’t place.

“I was looking for Reverend Hellfire. Do you know where I could find him?”

“No need, he found you.” His eyes eased off their squint. “Who’re you and what do you want?” He made no move to approach me, shake my hand, or pass the collection plate.

“My name’s Buck Reilly, and I… well, I’d like to learn something about you and your church.”

He stared at me. I looked about as church-going as he did church-leading, so we were equally at a loss.

“I was just going in,” he said. “Come on.”

Hellfire brushed past me and used an ancient skeleton key to turn the lock. Once inside he flipped a switch and a few naked bulbs lit the rafters. A quick look around revealed no flowers, plaques, candles, or vessels filled with holy water. The only thing on the wall was another cross, painted red, again with three lines above it. He marched up the aisle—at least there were pews.

“Come on, boy, don’t fall behind.”

He stopped at the altar and turned to face me.

“So what do you want?”

“Like I said, I’d like to know about you and your church—”

He reached down inside his pulpit, and when he raised his arm he had a big revolver in his hand. A .357 magnum, if I had to guess.

“Don’t bullshit me, Buck Reilly. You’re connected to that syndicate moving in on the people here. That’s what I hear.”

“Hold on there, Reverend, I don’t know who told you that, but—”

“Clarence Burke told me. Lives up the hill.”

“Boom-Boom?”

“Said you were setting up an introduction for him—”

I held my hands up. “I’m just trying to help the Adoption AID folks find their missing people—”

He waved the gun in front of my chest.

“So you lied to Boom-Boom, not just me.”

I took a step back. “I was trying to get to know you a little bit, thought you might be able to help—”

“Why would I help a liar and criminal?”

“I told Boom-Boom I was looking for John Thedford, the missing concert promoter.” I paused for a beat. “I came here to get your views on the charity.”

“Don’t believe in it. A woman gets pregnant, she has to have the child,” he said.

“What if she was raped?”

He lowered the gun. “Don’t matter. God gave her a child, one way or another, and it be her job to take care of it.”

“What if she had an abortion?”

He grunted. “Eye for an eye.”

“So why not put the child up for adoption?”

“Same difference. That be your baby, your responsibility. You shirk what God blesses you with, you going to hell. Simple as that.”

“So God thinks a mother or father should be executed—”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, boy.” The squint returned, which again reminded me of a wolverine. “And don’t be trying to change God’s will to meet your needs. You ain’t shit, we all ain’t shit, and God don’t take no shit.” His voice had a slight Germanic accent with an island finish.

Crystal said today’s caller told her she’d ‘eat shit’ if she didn’t cancel the show.

“Quite the message. And what happens to people who don’t abide by that philosophy?”

“They go to hell, son. See, people today, most of ‘em are selfish, self-centered, lazy. I don’t care what religion they practice, if any, ‘cause they all hypocrites. That whole idea of forgiveness is a license to steal, far as I can tell. Ain’t nobody want to face the truth, ‘cause truth’s a bitch. You ignore God, you get what’s coming, plain and simple.”

Hellfire stood with one fist on his hip, the gun to his side, stared me straight in the eye, and spoke with absolute confidence. He never once raised his voice, but it held an authority that commanded you to listen, regardless of your opinion.

“Hellfire believes in no grace or forgiveness, that’s what you’re saying?”

“You catch on quick.”

“So is that what happened to John Thedford?”

He took a step toward me.

“Get your ass outta here, boy. You’re going to hell too, I can already tell. You got that look about you. And whether you’re mixed up with that bunch or the damned mobsters, you’re not welcome here.”

He bumped his chest into me and pushed me back. He was coming again, so I took a backward step down the aisle. I didn’t want to fight the man. He bumped me again.

“Did you call Crystal Thedford today?” I said.

“Get the hell outta here ‘fore I call my boys.” He lifted the gun.

I back-stepped my way down the aisle and pushed the door open with my rear end.

“Does God tell you to take his word into your hands, Reverend?”

“He’s telling me to shoot your ass right now if you don’t get off my property!” His lips were peeled back, showing stubby teeth. He pointed the massive revolver at my head. “Get out!

The door slammed in my face and I heard the metallic sound of the ancient lock click. So much for asking him to call me a taxi.

I started down the road, breathing deep to slow my heart rate and process his statements. Boom-Boom obviously told Hellfire about me. Could Boom-Boom be the kidnapper? Could the kidnappings be his way of gaining leverage in whatever this crime war was that’s brewing? Hellfire mentioned his boys, too, and I wondered whether one drove a red Cigarette

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