Free Sara by Tony Hayden Page B
Authors: Tony Hayden
foot, he looked up and studied the brilliant white church across the street.
The church stood on the highest point in the small community of Ranch Springs. Clapboard siding framed beautifully arched windows made from leaded glass. An entrance porch offered shelter beneath a steeple that rose to a masterfully balanced point, giving perch to an elegant Latin cross. The ministry quarters sat at a right angle to the chapel in a flourish of primrose and lavender.
Mike ambled across the street and followed a cobblestone path to the ministry quarters. Gently knocking on a red lacquered door made from solid oak, he fidgeted. When no one answered, he turned and hesitated before turning back and knocking again. The door finally opened to reveal a heavy man in beige cargo pants and long-sleeve camp shirt, buttoned tightly over his expanding waistline.
The pastor scowled at Mike and opened the door a little wider.
“What can I do for you, young man?” he asked impatiently.
Mike immediately regretted coming.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “ Mr. and Mrs. Lang across the street suggested I come over and talk to you. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
Pastor Popineau looked across the street and finally smiled.
“Of course not,” he said in a low voice. “I was just coming out to do a little gardening. Do you mind if we speak out here?”
“Great,” Mike said, and stepped back. “You have a beautiful garden.”
The heavy man moved through the door and closed it behind him.
Offering his hand to Mike, he s aid, “I am Pastor Gary Popineau. How can I be of assistance?”
Mike shook the Pastor’s hand and tried to smile back. “My name is Mike Haller,” he said.
Noticing the Pastor’s glance at his uniform, Mike pulled his hand from the grip of the minister and tried to smooth away the wrinkles in his uniform shirt. “I am a deputy with the Eagle County Sheriff’s Department,” he continued, “but I am not here on official business. Well, it could be considered official business,”
Mike hesitated, “ But I’m not really here in an official capacity.”
Pastor Popineau placed his hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“Son, son,” he said quietly. “It is obvious that you have come here with a heavy heart.” He led Mike to a flagstone bench. “Please sit, and share with me what has brought you to my door.”
Mike sat with the minister. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m not sure how to properly address you. Is it Father, or Padre, or…?”
Gary Popineau closed his eyes for a brief moment and smiled.
“Pastor Gary is what many of my congregation call me.”
Mike laughed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t have much practice talking to men of the cloth. I probably should do it more often, but it’s pretty easy to find other priorities.”
Pastor Gary peered deeply into Mike’s eyes. “It is okay, son. We all talk to God in our own way. As long as you have not locked Him from your heart, He is there listening, as He is here listening right now.”
Mike diverted his gaze to a passing car. “I am here looking for my little girl,” he said with a shaky voice. “She was on her way to Wyoming when her car broke down outside of town.”
Mike drew in a deep breath, “And now she’s missing.”
Pastor Gary slid closer to Mike and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Oh , Mr. Haller,” he murmured. “Have you spoken to the police?”
Mike nodded, “Yes, of course. The sheriff is looking into it.” Taking in a deep breath, he continued, “I just feel so helpless. I feel like events are
The church stood on the highest point in the small community of Ranch Springs. Clapboard siding framed beautifully arched windows made from leaded glass. An entrance porch offered shelter beneath a steeple that rose to a masterfully balanced point, giving perch to an elegant Latin cross. The ministry quarters sat at a right angle to the chapel in a flourish of primrose and lavender.
Mike ambled across the street and followed a cobblestone path to the ministry quarters. Gently knocking on a red lacquered door made from solid oak, he fidgeted. When no one answered, he turned and hesitated before turning back and knocking again. The door finally opened to reveal a heavy man in beige cargo pants and long-sleeve camp shirt, buttoned tightly over his expanding waistline.
The pastor scowled at Mike and opened the door a little wider.
“What can I do for you, young man?” he asked impatiently.
Mike immediately regretted coming.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “ Mr. and Mrs. Lang across the street suggested I come over and talk to you. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
Pastor Popineau looked across the street and finally smiled.
“Of course not,” he said in a low voice. “I was just coming out to do a little gardening. Do you mind if we speak out here?”
“Great,” Mike said, and stepped back. “You have a beautiful garden.”
The heavy man moved through the door and closed it behind him.
Offering his hand to Mike, he s aid, “I am Pastor Gary Popineau. How can I be of assistance?”
Mike shook the Pastor’s hand and tried to smile back. “My name is Mike Haller,” he said.
Noticing the Pastor’s glance at his uniform, Mike pulled his hand from the grip of the minister and tried to smooth away the wrinkles in his uniform shirt. “I am a deputy with the Eagle County Sheriff’s Department,” he continued, “but I am not here on official business. Well, it could be considered official business,”
Mike hesitated, “ But I’m not really here in an official capacity.”
Pastor Popineau placed his hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“Son, son,” he said quietly. “It is obvious that you have come here with a heavy heart.” He led Mike to a flagstone bench. “Please sit, and share with me what has brought you to my door.”
Mike sat with the minister. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m not sure how to properly address you. Is it Father, or Padre, or…?”
Gary Popineau closed his eyes for a brief moment and smiled.
“Pastor Gary is what many of my congregation call me.”
Mike laughed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t have much practice talking to men of the cloth. I probably should do it more often, but it’s pretty easy to find other priorities.”
Pastor Gary peered deeply into Mike’s eyes. “It is okay, son. We all talk to God in our own way. As long as you have not locked Him from your heart, He is there listening, as He is here listening right now.”
Mike diverted his gaze to a passing car. “I am here looking for my little girl,” he said with a shaky voice. “She was on her way to Wyoming when her car broke down outside of town.”
Mike drew in a deep breath, “And now she’s missing.”
Pastor Gary slid closer to Mike and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Oh , Mr. Haller,” he murmured. “Have you spoken to the police?”
Mike nodded, “Yes, of course. The sheriff is looking into it.” Taking in a deep breath, he continued, “I just feel so helpless. I feel like events are