Rescue

help -ed you see the path you must follow to His Grace.“
    “I think it has, Reverend.“
    Lutrice told Cody to personally escort me back to my car so I wouldn’t get “lost in the crowd.“

    Actually, there wasn’t much crowd left to get lost in. My car was one of the dozen or so still in the parking lot, small clutches of the flock gathered at their bumpers and tailgates, speaking to each other and laughing quietly.
    I walked with Cody next to me, wondering if Lutrice had passed some code word to him and also wondering where I’d try to hit him if she had.
    For distraction, I said, “Cody, you been with the Church long?“
    A grunt that I realized was his voice. “Four years.“
    “Do you like it?“
    “The Church is my life.“
    “What’d you do before that?“
    “Ten tofifteen at Raiford,“
    I looked at him. He said, “I was a sinner, an armed robber. I almost drown-did in sin. The Reverend showed me the path, the path to the Lord. He done that for lots of folks. He could do that for you, too, you let him.“
    We reached my Sunbird. “Thanks, Cody. I’ll think about it.“
    He said, “No, you won’t.“
    Then Cody turned and walked back toward the pony tent, the big body bouncing along, the small head seeming a distortion on top of the broad shoulders.

15

    L eaving the tent ground lot , I took a right toward Route 1. Driving, I tried to see how I could learn more about the Church from theChurch, and I couldn’t see a way, now that Lutrice Wyeth would close the gates against me. Given what wasn’t served at the picnic table, though, there was another kind of place where I might get information about the underside of the Wyeths and their organization

    After changing into a clean, short-sleeved shirt at the Lodge, I started with the local haunts I’d gotten from the bartender at dinner the night before. The first was on Mercy Key, located one flight up in a wooded, almost treehouse effect that tried hard for Hemingway and came off as Gilligan’s Island . Stuffed plastic fish, some four and five feet long, hung at angles to a thatched wall behind the elliptical bat itself. The windows were just cuts through rough-planked paneling, the stools barely sittable. Given that it was the off’ season, the place was nearly empty, even on a Friday night.
    The bartender was a guy in his twenties, doing his best to convince a couple of women in their thirties that they hadn’t made a mistake by coming to the Keys for their vacation. Over in the corner, two men were talking fishing, each not exactly nursing what looked like triple-scotch-rocks in front of them.
    The bartender, wearing a washed-out parrot shirt and khaki shorts, came over and asked me what I was having.
    “Draft beer?“
    “Don’t have any. Miller, Miller Lite, Bud, Bud Light.“
    “Miller Lite, then.“
    “Glass?“
    “Not if it’s already in a bottle.“
    It was.
    After using an opener to pop the twist-off, he went back to his vacationers. The two fishermen, both sunburned on the tops of their hands, forearms, and ears, were waxing eloquent over the fighting abilities of dolphin versus shark.
    About halfway through my beer, the two women, who’d been stealing glances at me that I didn’t return, settled their tab and clumped out of the place. The fishermen ordered another round, one turning out to be triple bourbon instead of scotch. After the bartender finished with their order, he strolled over to me.
    “Another?“
    “I don’t think so. Planning on going over to the Church after this.“
    “The church?“
    “Church of the Lord Vigilant. Friend of mine told me it was something I ought to look into. Know much about it?“
    “Not too religious, myself.“
    “I mean, you heard anything I ought to know about, I’m thinking of joining up?“
    The keep’s face turned a little, a deer that’s caught something in the wind it didn’t recognize but still didn’t quite like. “Maybe you should ask your friend.“
    “My friend?“
    “The one who told you about the church, remember?“
    He went over to compare stories with the fishermen. A few minutes later, I left a five on the bar and slid off my stool.
    * * *

    Thinking I might be asking a bit too close to the subject, I drove north for a while. The second place I tried was a restaurant called the Padd-Thai on Key Largo . Located in a pastel-colored mall, it had a sign out front advertising a live blues band.
    Inside, I was a little early for the entertainment, a