Free Health, Wealth, and Murder by Traci Tyne Hilton Page B

of his coffee and smirked.
    That was the other reason Jane was surprised to see them together. Reggie had always been kind of a jerk.
    “Very modern of you, Reggie.” Jake sniffed. He had never much liked Reggie either, if Jane recalled correctly.
    Reggie laughed. “Look at Lucas, stuck behind the equipment even though he’s the best preacher they’ve got. He could outpreach Josiah by a mile. But does he complain or act uppity? Nope. He humbly serves. And that’s what Francine should do too, but she doesn’t. She’s cold, and rude, and she acts like working for the most popular preacher in America is some kind of drag.”
    “I wouldn’t say Josiah Malachi is the most popular preacher in America.” Jake leaned back in his chair.
    “Who’s better?” Reggie challenged.
    “I can’t think of a name offhand, but plenty of people can’t stand Malachi. They consider him a heretic. I mean, someone murdered him, didn’t they? He can’t be that popular.”
    Gemma’s face turned beet red. “They martyred him. Lots of good people get killed.”
    The pretty little blonde girl who went missing so many years ago flashed through Jane’s mind, leaving a hurt in her heart like a punch. Josiah was not a good man.
    “We really believe in this ministry, Jake.” Stacy’s eyes got a dewy look to them. “It’s not like we’d drop our lives and tour with him, or anything, but he was a great preacher who helped millions of people.”
    “Helped millions of people have less money.”
    Jane kicked him under the table.
    Gemma’s wide-eyed stare jumped from Jake to Reggie, who were locked in a game of chicken, neither blinking or backing down. She turned to Jane and bit her lip.
    Jane took a long, deep breath.
    “Hey! Look, the table is moving!” Gemma pointed to Jane’s dessert, which was now in front of Stacy, across the table from where it started. “Did you guys know the table has been moving the whole time?” She accompanied her statement with a frantic kind of laugh.
    “Yes, tables move. How very Portland of Rimsky’s,” Jake said.
    “Jacob…” Jane squeezed his knee.
    He smiled. “I love it when you call me that. Did I ever tell you? Makes me feel grown up. Not at all the same as when Aunt Marjory calls me that.” He chuckled and squeezed her hand. His posture mellowed too. “Sorry.” He nodded at Reggie. “I’m picky about preachers. But I’ll shut up now. After all, he didn’t deserve to die just because I disagree with his theology.”
    Jane again thought of little Haven, whom no one had seen or mentioned in four years. Had Josiah deserved to die?
 

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Sunday evening came, and Jane was not inclined to go to her missional community family dinner. But Jake texted her, “GO,” so she did.
    Sean acted like their conversation the week before hadn’t happened at all, and like she hadn’t skipped their midweek dinner. The dinners were social, come-as-you-please, potluck things, meant for games, and bringing friends, so technically, it wasn’t like she had skipped church . But she felt like she had ditched, and that’s what mattered.
    So she sat on the floor of her missional community leader’s house and tried to pay attention. Her heart and mind weren’t in it—not because she didn’t want to evangelize the neighborhood…but because she just kept getting it wrong, and it was exhausting. She had always, always thought that a really dedicated Christian who wanted to be a foreign missionary could just be one. That’s what God wanted, after all. But here she was, another year in Portland, another year still in college, and another time messing up a good church opportunity because of a boy.
    She drew a line down the carpet with her thumbnail and then smoothed it over. She wished Jake was here with her. But she didn’t wish it enough to throw caution to the wind and just get married.
    Wendy, a girl who lived in the apartments across the street, was sitting on the floor next to