Page 35 of The Souls of Lost Lake

“I should be gettin’ back” was Ava’s only response.

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “Getting back? To the parsonage? That you weren’t supposed to leave in the first place?”

“I’m not a prisoner,” she hissed.

“The entire town is ready to string you up for Hubbard’s murder and Jipsy’s disappearance,” Noah spat back. He leaned forward.

Ava matched his stance. “But I didn’t do it.”

“We’ve established that is your claim, but you need evidence and—” He chopped off his words as enlightenment spread across his face, followed quickly by confusion. “What do you think is in the church that would clear you?”

Ava tilted her chin upward. She’d seen Mrs. Sanderson do it now and then, and it seemed to shutherhusband up.

Noah’s eyes darkened. He twisted onto his knees faster than she expected, and his face was very close to hers when he spoke. “Listen to me, Ava Coons, and listen very closely. I’ve stepped out on a dry, dead twig for you. One wrong move and it snaps and we both come crashing down. Do you hear me?”

“Ain’t my fault you lied,” she snapped.

Noah leaned even closer, his stare so intense it made her pause. She was drowning again. His eyes. Pools of chocolate. She’d seen melted chocolate once and—

“You don’tmovewithout telling me why you’re moving. You don’t leave the parsonage without my say-so. You don’t scamper around town in the dark of night when most crimes are committed, and you don’t break into my churchever again.”

“Preacher Pritchard?” Ava leaned toward him, and for a moment her insides curled at the fact that just another inch or two, and in a different setting with a different mindset, the preachercould level a kiss on her like the kind some said you could see in the motion pictures.

“W-what?” He backed away a bit. Maybe he’d just had the same thought.

“I told you this ain’t your church.” Ava raised an eyebrow. “It’s God’s. And if it’s God’s, and if what you say about Him sayin’ everyone is welcome is true, well, I guess I’m not breaking in if I pay Him a visit here, am I?”

Noah’s jaw muscle twitched. He sniffed. He closed his eyes and drew in a leveling breath. Opening his eyes, Noah burrowed his authoritative glare into her. “Ava...”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. That fire was brewing again, and she could tell she’d pushed her limits with the good-lookin’ preacher.

“I’m goin’ home. I’m goin’ home,” Ava mumbled as she scampered to her feet. She was making a move to hurry off when Noah rose quickly and gripped her arm.

“No. You’re hiding in my office today. People are out and about. They’ll see you. Stay inside.”

“You gonna lie if someone comes in to see you and I’m hidin’ under your desk?” Ava didn’t miss the way he snatched his hand back when her loose hair swept over his fingers.

He held up a palm as he sidled past her and into his office. “Just get in here and shut the door.”

15

Wren

“This isn’t a wise step, Arwen.” Her father stared at her from across his desk. A sculpture of Gandalf perched on the end, his wizard’s staff stretched out over piles of paperwork as if he could command it all into neat piles of completion.

“What am I supposed to do, Dad?” Wren fidgeted with a thread hanging from the hemline of her Milwaukee Brewers T-shirt. “She’s convinced.”

“Convinced that Ava Coons took her daughter?DeadAva Coons.” A raised thick black eyebrow contradicted Wren’s coppery hair.

“Thatsomeonetook Jasmine.” She always felt small in front of her father. Ignorant. Or maybeunschooledwas a more appropriate term. He was the professor, after all. He lived and breathed education, and his purpose for being at Deer Lake Bible Camp wasn’t to lead a ministry so much as to educate future generations of the “Scriptural prowess necessary to enable them for theological pursuits.” Truth be told, Wren sometimes wondered how Professor Tristan Blythe ever decided to work at a Bible camp. His passions seemed so juxtaposed to—

“Arwen.” He snapped her attention back on him. “When campfire stories become someone’s reality, we’ve crossed a line.”

“WWGD,” Wren muttered.

“What was that?” Her dad frowned.

“What would Gandalf do?” Wren responded sheepishly.