18

When he got home and had a strong signal, Oliver left a voice mail message for Anna, asking her to call, saying it was urgent and it concerned Glen. Then he barely slept. Friday morning, after tossing and turning, he finally gave up and got out of bed in predawn darkness, memories of Anna, and of her unfortunate cousin, shredding his thoughts. He would call the chief, make a report. This was too unlike his wife. Then he finally got a text from Anna.

Will call you soon was all it said, but it did Oliver’s heart good.

He texted back, Please hurry, I miss you, and stared at the phone, hoping for more from her, but nothing else came.

Keeping the phone near, he spent the next hour in prayer. But by the time the early morning sun was bright in the sky, he’d heard no more from Anna. He had a men’s Bible study to lead that morning, so he couldn’t stay in prayer by the phone for the whole day, which was what he wanted to do. It was a relief that she’d finally contacted him and he understood Anna’s need for private prayer on one hand, but on the other hand, wasn’t this a point in their lives where they needed to pray together? He pleaded with God for an answer. Where was his wife?

“God has turned a deaf ear.”

Why was God so silent lately? The answer to that question was not forthcoming.

At least it was Friday and he wouldn’t be headed into the church office right away and have to answer questions about where Anna was. On Fridays his day started with a men’s breakfast and study that was held in the fellowship hall. Klaus Getz cooked for the thirty-five or so regulars who attended, and Oliver already had a message written. If Anna called, he’d answer, even if it meant stopping his message in the middle.

As he showered and dressed, checking the phone over and over, he began to wonder at the text. Anna would know that he had the breakfast to lead. Why send a cryptic message like that? It wasn’t like her to text instead of call in the first place. By the time he was ready to leave, the text gave him more anxiety than peace. She’d not acknowledged the message he left about Glen. True, he hadn’t told her about the murder, but why not respond concerning her cousin?

Oliver decided that if he could make it through this breakfast, he would call Chief O’Rourke and talk to her about the text—if Anna hadn’t called by then.

His chest was tight with emotion as he crossed a path he’d walked so many times over the years. The river, the church, the town—all played a part in the life they’d built here. He and Anna had shepherded this church their whole married life. It was more than home, more than just work. It was a large, diverse extended family. He prayed as he walked through the property he loved, flashes of events over the years that he and Anna had been part of. They’d grown up here. Happy events, weddings, baby showers; and sad events, funerals, memorial services. He laid his fears out in his prayers, asking for clarity for whatever actually came.

Oliver had never found it easy to let go, usually struggled to lay his petitions before God and move on, but still he tried. Letting his worry for Anna go and trusting the Lord was like cutting off his own arm with a dull knife.

As he stopped at a point next to the river, before he’d turn away onto the path for the fellowship hall, he gazed out at the powerful, rolling river. The sight calmed him, strengthened him. He could always trust the river to do that. And he knew he could always trust God to order his life. It all came down to simple trust. His whole life would be a lie if he couldn’t trust God at this most painful and personal part of it.

Rogue’s Hollow Community Church had a storied history. The main sanctuary was one of the oldest buildings in town, and it occupied the town center on a choice piece of land with river frontage. The church maintained a beautiful park on its section of the mighty Rogue River. This portion of the river, thick with the confluence of Midas Creek, was calm and steady. People came from all over Oregon in the summer to hold weddings and other outdoor events in the park.

Originally a sawmill, the main structure had been turned into a church in the late 1960s, several years after a big flood had washed away a good portion of the mill and damaged the rest, effectively putting it out of business. The fellowship hall was a newer structure, something Oliver added during his tenure as head pastor. The church offices were all above the hall. The small house Oliver and Anna shared was originally the mill office and had been spared by the flood because it sat on higher ground. It was protected by a retaining wall, but since the dam went in at Lost Creek in 1977, the flood threat had been lessened, if not solved completely. Only twice since the dam was built had there been high waters, but they’d done no damage.

The office was renovated into a parsonage in the seventies. Oliver and Anna had extensively remodeled the home when they first arrived at the church to make it more comfortable and homey for the children that never came.

Feeling stronger, Oliver continued on. As he reached the fellowship hall, he could see by the number of vehicles in the parking lot that many men had already arrived. It was a good group. A few came all the way from Medford for this Friday breakfast and study. He loved the mixture of people and personalities in his congregation. From a wealthy business owner to a disabled Vietnam veteran and everything in between attended on Sundays, and it was Oliver’s passion to deliver the full counsel of God and truly shepherd his flock.

The smell of bacon tickled his nostrils as he opened the back door of the hall to enter through the kitchen. There bacon was sizzling, eggs cooking, and hash browns frying, a regular artery-clogging, wonderfully tasting old-fashioned breakfast.

“Morning, Klaus. It smells delicious.”

The big German turned and flashed a grin, waving his spatula. “Good morning, Pastor Mac! I hope you brought a good appetite today.”

“You bet.” He clapped Klaus on the shoulder and continued into the hall, where tables were filling up. All the regulars were here and one or two who weren’t so regular. Mayor Dixon walked in with a stride that told Oliver he was going to get an earful.

“Oliver, can I have a word with you, please?”

Not knowing how to avoid the man, Oliver nodded. “Only have a minute before Klaus puts breakfast on the table.”

Dixon pulled him out the side door. “I don’t think it’s fitting for you to undermine my authority in front of the new police chief.” He pursed his lips like he always did when he was upset.

“I don’t believe that I did undermine your authority. I simply pointed out that we hired the woman to do a job and we have to let her do it.” Dismayed, Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets. Cocking his head, he said, “You pushed for her hire, telling us she was the most qualified candidate. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I haven’t. But there is a learning curve to the way we do things here—you know that. She needs to follow the procedures outlined by the council.” He punctuated almost every word by pointing his index finger. “That includes notifying me of major incidents.”

“I’m not a cop or a mayor, but it seems to me the first thing you’d want her to do is her job, which is to handle law enforcement issues. That’s what she was doing. I’m sure she would have notified you in due course.”

“Due course? What if she misses something or makes a bad decision? That reflects on the entire council—why, on the whole town, for heaven’s sake. I stuck my neck out. Besides, maybe if they’d watched her more closely in Long Beach, what happened there would not have happened.”

The clanging bell that signaled breakfast was ready rang out loud and clear, and Oliver praised God silently. Placing a hand on Dixon’s shoulder, he said, “Now, we hired the woman because she was qualified. We owe her the chance to show her stuff, do her job. Why don’t we let her? Breakfast is ready. You joining us?”

The mayor’s expression went petulant. “I’ve business to attend to this morning.”

Dixon turned on his heel and left Oliver standing by the side door, scratching his head over one of Dixon’s comments. “If they’d watched her more closely”?

He realized that Tess had better be good because the mayor would not allow any room for error. But when he considered how she had handled herself yesterday, he decided Dixon was the one who needed to watch his step.