Pretty Girls Dancing(99)

“Okay, that’s it,” Sloane said. “I’ve got no properties in the Mikkelsens’ names, or in those of the other two pastors. I’m printing out a list of every parcel owned by the people listed as volunteers, workers, or instructors at the three churches.”

Mark turned to retrieve the results from the printer tray. Three pages. His heart dropped with a thud. “We’ll split these up among the Fenton County law enforcement and our investigators at the London office.” He scanned them. “The ministers listed may not own any real estate. But they all have access to some.”

The other agent looked up. “The churches?”

“Especially Trinity Baptist. That’s where Newman could have come into contact with both Willard and DeVries.”

“I thought you’d been there before.”

“I have. But it was dark, and I was only in Mikkelsen’s office.” Mark remembered the eerie sight of the candlelight vigil that had greeted him when he’d been leaving. “It wouldn’t hurt to get a closer look at the property. Outbuildings.”

She shrugged. “All right. I’m going to send out assignments on these property searches first, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

In the meantime, Mark recalled, there was one person who might be able to start filling in some background on the Reverend and Laura Mikkelsen.



“Drive around the property,” Mark ordered.

“Such as it is,” Sloane murmured. They’d taken her car because, he was discovering, she liked being the one in the driver’s seat.

There wasn’t much to see. The white-clapboard church was a sprawling structure, indicating additions had been added over the years as the needs of the members had changed. Built in 1938, according to the conversation he’d had minutes ago with Barbara Hunt. Modernized over time, the woman had noted, but most of the fund-raising went toward youth activities.

There was a double garage detached from the main building, with another smallish outbuilding set a distance away, not large enough to house much more than the mower and lawn tools that Hunt had said were kept there.

Sloane circled back and pulled in to the parking lot. “So this woman you talked to hired Mikkelsen?”

“She was on the selection committee, yes. She said he had an impressive résumé of church leadership in various communities, mostly in the state.”

“Is it usual for these guys to move around a lot?”

Mark had little experience in the area. “No idea. But he left his last position because the congregation had voted to dissolve.”

They got out of the car. Started up the walk that would lead to the offices Mark had visited before.

“Think this guy will give us any problems about looking around?”

“I doubt it.” He stabbed at the doorbell with one index finger. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife insists on being our tour guide.”

As it turned out, his prediction was wrong. The Mikkelsens were both out, they were informed by Cindy Long, the harried secretary. The pastor and his wife were at a Tri-County Ministry meeting, and the woman wasn’t sure when they’d return.

“They seemed quite proud of the facilities here when I spoke to them.” Mark gave her a smile meant to disarm. “Thought I’d come back to get a tour. Do you think it’d be possible for us to look around?”

The woman looked uncertain. “I really don’t have time to show the place to you. I have the Sunday bulletin to put together and a hundred other things that Laura left for me to do.” As if hearing the complaint in the words, she added piously, “I’m always happy to be of whatever sort of service I can be, of course.”

“Is the church open? Because we can just peek in ourselves.” Sloane spoke up for the first time. “There’s no reason to pull you away from your work. We’ll be in and out.”

“We-ell . . . that would probably be fine,” Long decided with an air of relief. “The church is always open during the day, for anyone who needs a quiet place for solace and contemplation. You’re welcome to go inside. We’re especially proud of the old stained-glass window that was found downstairs and restored. It’s hanging in the vestibule. But don’t go in the basement, please. It’s cordoned off because the foundation isn’t in good shape, and the steps are something of a hazard.”

“No problem.” They both remained in place as the woman hurried back to her office.

“Split up?”

“Yeah,” Mark responded. “You take the social hall and living quarters. I’ll check out the church. Look for an electrical room or anything that would serve as a janitorial closet.” They’d gone over Newman’s office in the school with the permission of the superintendent and turned up nothing. “I wonder if the basement is confined to the church or if there’s an entrance somewhere around here.”

“I’ll find out.” Sloane moved away.

Losing no time, he headed toward the church. And the basement he’d been warned away from.

Two doors dotted the hallway. One was a large coat closet that also held a couple of mops and a bucket. The other was locked. Sending a glance over his shoulder, Mark took out his wallet and extracted a credit card. He was able to fit it in the seam between the door and jamb, but no amount of jiggling could pop the lock. Intrigued, he put the card away. The space could be no larger than the closet he’d just looked in. He wondered what Mikkelsen considered valuable enough to lock up.