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switchback stairway, and she pointed to a massive set of double oak doors.
    “Charles would be happy to talk to you,” she said, smiling.
    “Charles?”
    She nodded, then realized I didn’t know who she was referring to. She shook her head, a mixture of amusement and disgust on her face. “Our pastor. Charles Haygood.”
    “Oh. All right.”
    She was still shaking her head as she disappeared down the stairs.
    I knocked on one of the doors, and a voice beckoned me in.
    The doors opened to an expansive corner office. There was a small living room set up to my right, with leather sofas and a glass-top coffee table. To the left were four square-back easy chairs arranged around a woven rug. In the center of the room, backed by floor-to-ceiling windows, was a massive desk.
    Charles Haygood stood behind the desk. Thick dark hair was swept back above a smooth tan forehead. Bright blue eyes and a blinding smile welcomed me into the room.
    “Mr. Winters,” he said, hands on his hips. “Nice to see you. Welcome.”
    He was handsome, but I couldn’t help but think he looked like a figure from a wax museum. He was fit, well dressed, and a little stiff.
    He came around the desk, and we shook hands. He gestured to the four chairs, and we each took one, sitting across from one another.
    “Your daughter is here for camp, I understand,” he said, settling back and folding his hands in his lap.
    “Yeah. First time.”
    “She’ll have a great time.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “Have you been to New Spirit before?”
    “I have not.”
    His smile widened. “The Lord brings us people every day.”
    “My Honda brought me here.”
    He laughed, a little too enthusiastically. “Of course. Forgive me. But it would be a pleasure if we could persuade you to attend one of our services. I think you might enjoy it.”
    “I appreciate the invitation.”
    He rubbed his chin, nodding, momentarily placated. “So . . . you asked about Moises?”
    “Yes.”
    He stared at me, committing to nothing.
    My natural inclination was to continue babbling, but one of the things Victor was adamant about was that you learned more when you shut your mouth and stayed patient. Neither was my strong suit, but I’d seen that philosophy in action and it worked. I couldn’t argue.
    So I waited.
    Haygood crossed his legs and readjusted his hands. “Technically, he is still employed here.”
    “Technically?”
    He uncrossed his legs and shifted his weight in the chair, like he couldn’t get comfortable. “We haven’t seen him in several days.”
    “Why’s that?”
    He tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Why are you asking, Mr. Winters?”
    “I’ve been hired to find him, ask him a few questions.”
    “You’re an investigator?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were a football coach or something.”
    “I’m both,” I answered.
    He thought about that, then nodded. “I see.”
    I thought it was interesting that he knew I coached football. I begrudgingly admitted that many folks still knew me from my high school playing days, but I didn’t think he was around back then. I let it go for the moment.
    “So you haven’t seen him in several days?” I asked.
    “Correct.”
    “How many is several?”
    He raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, then brought them back to me. “Six, I believe. Six.”
    “He hasn’t called in sick?”
    “No.”
    “No call at all?”
    “None.”
    He was playing cat and mouse with me, but I wasn’t sure why.
    “Can I ask what position he holds here?” I asked.
    The lines around Haygood’s eyes tightened. “He worked in accounting.”
    “Doing?”
    He cleared his throat. “As our controller.”
    Another connection to money. Maybe Victor was right. This didn’t seem so hard.
    “May I ask why you are looking for him?” Haygood questioned, rubbing his chin.
    “Because he’s missing.”
    He cracked an insincere smile. “Yes. Of course. Any other reason?”
    “I can’t really say.