The Killing Vision - By Will Overby Page 0,23
and Derek filed out of the church with the others, Marla did her best to keep up the chitchat with those around her. Yes, I’m fine. How’re you? How’s that grandson of yours? Your kids enjoying their summer off from school? Still like your job? Sure has been hot.
She wondered about these other women in the congregation. Did any of these women have to live with what she did? Did any of them have to pretend everything was just grand when it was really black and rotten inside?
Sally and Rob Carpenter floated by in their new Buick Regal like a dream. Sally waved to her, like Queen Elizabeth in a horse-drawn coach. Rob owned an appliance store in town and Sally taught fifth grade. She tried to imagine them in bed. Sally on her hands and knees, her hair all disheveled and hanging in her face; Rob behind her, pumping away, sweat pouring down his face, chest and arms, his thinning hair splayed across his damp forehead. Let’s push the envelope tonight, Sal. She shuddered.
“Mom?” Derek said, and she looked at him. “I was talking to you.”
She smiled distractedly and slid on her sunglasses. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, can we go to Pizza Hut? I’m starving.”
She unlocked the car door. “Not today, babe.”
* * *
When they pulled into the driveway, she was half-relieved, half-disappointed to see Wade’s truck there. Wade was reclining on the front porch in one of the plastic lawn chairs, still wearing the clothes he had left in yesterday. His shirt was wrinkled and damp and clung to him like fungus. He took a drag off his cigarette, watching them get out of the car.
“Dad!” shouted Derek, crossing the lawn to the porch. “Can we work on the car today? Please?”
“I don’t know,” said Wade. “I’m pretty tired.”
Marla glared at him as she came up the steps. “Hey,” she said.
He nodded at her. “Hey.”
And now that she was close to him, he reeked of beer and sweat. Fury swept over her. “Out kinda late, huh?” she said before she could stop herself.
Wade’s eyes were red-rimmed and tired, but she still caught a flash of anger. “Yeah, I guess I was.”
She brushed past him into the coolness of the house, leaving the two of them on the porch. Just pushing the envelope, she thought.
* * *
1:35 PM
He had left early because he wasn’t sure how long it would take him to find the church. He didn’t have a need to go to Springfield often, and though he knew where most of the major streets and landmarks were, he wasn’t familiar with St. Thomas Church. He spotted it, though, as soon as he entered the city. It was a large rambling brick structure with an open bell tower and stained glass windows. He’d seen it before, but he supposed he’d never paid any attention to it.
He was thirty minutes early, so he drove around a nearby McDonald’s and got a Coke. He sat in the parking lot of the restaurant sipping his drink and looking at St. Thomas’ bell tower above the treetops. He was nervous. His heart pounded in the pit of his stomach, like he was a teenager on a first date. He wasn’t sure what to expect. What would these people be like? How weird would they be? What kind of meetings did they hold? He pictured strange rituals where everyone wore dark robes and chanted, or where they all cavorted naked in a circle.
He finally drove over to the church, circling around it, looking for signs of life. Behind the church proper was a new aluminum building with a sign out front that said “ACTIVITY CENTER.” There were several cars parked in the lot. This must be the place.
He parked his Explorer as close to the street as he could, took a last-second glance at his face in the rearview mirror, and headed out across the hot asphalt toward the building, his heart knocking a mile a minute. There were no windows in the building, and the glass on the front door was tinted, so he couldn’t see inside. Were they watching him now? Watching him trudging across the parking lot, sweating like some massive, frightened beast? He took a breath, grabbed the door and opened it.
A blast of refreshingly cool air hit him at once, and at first he thought he was mistaken, that he had walked into a bridge party or a bridal shower. The large, open room was well lit and clean