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we approach her home, look for any weapons and take them. Do not kill her. It will be my honor to do so.”
    He guided them down the stairs into the basement. “Prepare,” Titus said. “Sharpen your weapons, drink plenty of water and get some sleep. We stay quiet about our mission. The only task another Roman needs to know about is our quest to aid a Jewish widow in the name of Marcus. There is no other reason to offer.”

Chapter 8

Modern-Day Long Island

    Jax’s Bar was trimmed and decked out with holiday décor. Red and green ribbons hung on the high wooden beams protruding from the ceiling. Christmas lights dazzled and blinking patterns of fluorescent colors danced in rhythmic motions. A large tree, its lower branches bent from the weight of heavy ornaments, stood majestically in a nearby corner, inviting even the shyest patron to utilize the beauty for a photo op or selfie.
    Susan sipped red wine while Connie preferred white. They drank as the speakers belted out “Twelve Days of Christmas.”
    They watched a young couple slow dance to the next tune, Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” Connie watched the woman’s happy face for a brief moment and then looked away.
    Susan smiled and recalled the evening she and Michael danced to Frank Sinatra’s version of “Silent Night” several Christmases ago. She took another sip of her wine and relished how it slid slowly down her throat, hugging her chest, warming her arms. She let her mind drift.
    She remembered how Michael’s hand felt on hers, how they moved in unison, step by step, cheek to cheek, chest to chest. It was perfect. They were one. She took a deep breath to collect herself as she drank some more. It didn’t matter she and Connie weren’t talking. In fact, she was happy for the silence. I’ll always have that night. No one can take it away from us. No one. Not my mom. Not Connie.
    She finished the rest of her glass while Connie played with her cell phone, frantically pulling and pushing at the touch screen with her thumbs. She dropped it to the table and looked up at Susan.
    “Now what?” Connie asked.
    Susan shrugged, still smitten over the memory. “I guess we wait to hear from Pastor Dennis.”
    “Come on, do you really believe what that kook said? It sounds like he’s off his rocker. Do you think the pastor and my brother planned this disappearance? I’m fine with that, but don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. I’d like to be in on it if this is what’s going on.”
    “Pastor Dennis isn’t that way,” Susan said. “He’s an honest man. I’ve known him for a long time.”
    Connie looked away. “Believe me, he’s not honest.”
    “Believe whatever you want,” Susan said. “I’ve seen some strange things happen. What do you want? Evidence?”
    “Yeah,” said Connie, with a sarcastic edge.
    Susan leaned forward and pointed to her neck. “Look here.”
    “So what?”
    “Do you see any marks?”
    “No.”
    Susan leaned back in her chair. “Right. No marks. The car accident.”
    “Oh, jeez. Here we go again with the dramatics.” Connie smiled. “Wow. You really have it bad for my brother. He’s got issues like the rest of us. Like you. Like – ”
    “You?”
    “Like the pastor, your honest man. If you only knew what he’s been hiding.”
    Susan ordered another glass of wine, trying not to show she was intrigued by Connie’s remark. Don’t sink to her level. She’s trying to pull you into her dirty pool of gossip. The waitress returned with another glass of red wine. Susan took a long swig. “What’s he hiding?” Ugh. I can’t believe I took the bait.
    Connie drained the remainder of her wine and signaled for the waitress to return. “This stays between me and you,” she said. “Got it?”
    Susan pushed her glass around in a small circle. “Sure.”
    “The pastor was married several years ago.”
    “I know.”
    Connie looked around. “Let me finish.”
    “So finish.”
    “He had a drinking problem, so