Page 76 of The Boy from Half Moon

“Double my salary, sir? You do realize how much you already pay me?”

“Yeah, there is that, but I’m a good read of character, son, and you have that thing I like to call worth the bet. I’m betting you’ll make me a boatload of money in return. So how ‘bout it?”

“I like you, Senior. I think you might just be worth the bet as well,” I said. “I suppose you need an answer today?”

“Yeah, that’d make me feel better, son. And could you stop by my office, let’s say, tomorrow morning when you get in?”

“I can do that,” I agreed, finding myself talked into going back to work.

“Well, good news then,” he said. “And Tate? I promise you’ll come out on top with this decision.”

“Let’s hope so, sir.”

We disconnected, and I laid my phone on the quartz countertop, still wondering what the fuck I’d just agreed to.

CHAPTER FORTY: Luke

Screams pierced the air, waking me from a fitful sleep. My first reaction was that kids were playing nearby, but when several more full-throated screams rang out, I jumped out of my cot and ran to the window.

There was a crowd of women and children huddled outside the barn, men keeping them from going into the old building. Many of the women were on their knees, looking skyward and praying. I heard sirens in the distance and wondered if the barn was on fire.

Dressing quickly, I ran as fast as I could in case they needed help with what must be some kind of blaze in the dry hay. But then again, most people were standing and watching, not the usual approach to fighting fires.

Pushing past the women, I raced to the barn door where the elders were gathered around something lying on the ground. What was that? A dead cow?

“You don’t want to see that, Brother Luke,” Elder Benjamin warned, tugging me back from the small circle of men.

I broke free and elbowed my way between two others. He was right. “Oh, my God!” I exclaimed, catching my urge to throw up before it happened. “Holy God of mercy!”

Franklin was lying flat on his back, half of his insides splayed out of his torso. Two wooden railings were busted up and lying near his had-to-be-dead body. I looked up toward the loft and noticed fractured railings from where it appeared he’d fallen through after something horrible had happened to him.

The sirens were louder. Who’d called the police? We were told to never involve the outside world with our concerns, yet some type of aid was obviously heading in our direction. We were the only folks out this far, the nearest home or farm being ten miles in either direction.

“He’s dead,” Elder Peter said. “There’s nothing an ambulance can do to save him.”

“Then why’d we call the ambulance?” I asked.

“What you’re hearing isn’t an ambulance, Luke,” he replied. “Father Franklin was shot, and he looks like he’s been dead for hours.” He motioned to the loft above us. “He was clean blasted right out of the loft. Only a shotgun could do that,” he added, pointing to Franklin’s lifeless body. “What you’re hearing is the police coming out.”

I was sick to my stomach. Franklin’s midsection looked like a bomb had gone off inside his gut. I backed away, surveying the crowd for Ma and David. Finally, I spotted Ma holding a child that wasn’t hers. I frantically looked for David, my eyes darting through the crowd. He was nowhere to be seen.

Just as I was about to run to the dorms to search for him, I saw him running toward the crowd, dodging another group of families to get to Ma’s side. I hurried to them and once there, David buried his face in my chest.

We stood with other families, all of them whispering and mumbling to one another. We all turned in unison when two police cars pulled up to the gate, waiting for someone to let them in, their sirens still blaring and adding more confusion to an already awful crisis.

“Go to the dorms,” I said, positioning David in that direction. “Stay inside until I get there.”

“But you’re not allowed in the dorms,” he argued. “You’ll get in trouble, Luke.”

I had a feeling my punishment being fulfilled was the least of our worries. “Go! Now!”

Ma came to my side, handing the baby in her arms to another sister. “God’s will,” she muttered. “Long, long, long, overdue,” she continued, holding her chin and shaking her head.

“Hush, Ma,” I hissed. “Do not speak like that.”

“He killed your father, Luke. So now, his penance has been paid. I, for one, praise God for his retribution.”

I grabbed her hand and moved her away from the assembled crowd. “You can’t speak of such things, Ma. People are all around you,” I explained, checking to see who may have heard her blasphemous words.

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