MOSES WRIGHT SAT IN AN OFFICE OFF THE BIG ROOM where the community gatherings were held. The door was open. He was seated at a desk, a large volume bound in red leather open in front of him. His lips moved as he read. Kane sat across the desk from him. The old man ignored him.

Kane used the time to examine Moses Wright more carefully. The old man was short but, even well past his prime, had powerful shoulders and arms. His head, with its eruption of shaggy white hair and thick white beard, seemed too big for his body. Only the big shoulders kept it from looking freakish.

With his Old Testament appearance he would have been a good televangelist, Kane thought. People with big heads do well on television.

Something about him rubs me the wrong way, Kane thought. I’d better watch that. You can’t let your personal prejudices warp the investigation.

The old man was, like all of the residents of Rejoice, dressed simply. He wore no jewelry, not even a watch. Just like the cons, Kane thought. Is Rejoice just another sort of prison? Did Faith break out?

Minutes passed. Wright’s breathing was loud and steady as he read, pausing every now and then to make a note on a pad that lay next to the book.

Enough’s enough, Kane thought, and dropped his hand on the desktop with a noise like a firecracker going off. The old man’s head snapped up.

“Good morning, Elder Moses Wright,” Kane said sweetly. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

The old man glared at him.

“This book contains all the answers any man needs,” he growled, holding the big volume up so Kane could see the words “Holy Bible” stamped on the front.

“Fine,” Kane said with a smile, “just point me to the passage that tells me where your granddaughter is.”

“Does blasphemy amuse you, Mr. Kane?” Wright asked.

The old man’s hostility scratched against Kane’s nerves like fingernails dragged across a blackboard, but he kept his temper in check.

“No,” Kane said, “but I’m not here to inquire into religious matters. I’m here to find a young woman. What can you tell me that might help?”

The old man showed big, yellow teeth in a smile so unctuous that he must have wanted Kane to know it was phony.

“What makes you think I want to help you?” he asked. “I was against hiring you, but the other elders ignored me.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to help?” Kane asked. “Is your ego so much more important than the fate of your own flesh and blood?”

Wright’s mouth twisted into a bitter grin.

“You really shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kane asked.

The old man was silent for a moment.

“One of the things it means is that I must weigh the souls of Rejoice in every decision,” he said. “In your case, the question was whether it was better to have an outsider poking around here, particularly a murderer and convict, upsetting the residents, setting tongues to wagging, and exposing us all to the secular philosophy of the world, in the hope of finding one lost or more likely runaway girl, or to make our own quiet inquiries that would, no doubt, have discovered her whereabouts and left the community untroubled.”

“You are confident that you would have solved the mystery?” Kane said. “How?”

“We have many friends outside Rejoice, and many more contacts. We have many competent men and women here. How hard could it be to find one girl?”

“Presumably you tried all that before calling me in and didn’t learn anything.”

“We didn’t give it long enough. Besides, what is the fate of one body when compared to the danger to hundreds of souls?”

“So it doesn’t matter that she’s your granddaughter?”

The old man gave him another bitter grin.

“Faith is very important to me,” he said. “You’ll never know how important. But if the girl wants to live in the world, then it is better that she does. Better for her and better for Rejoice.”

Kane sat trying to make sense of what the old man was telling him. Better to let a girl disappear than let one outsider spend time in Rejoice? Better for whom? How?

“Surely you don’t think I can destroy the faith of those in Rejoice?” Kane said. “Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘For what if some did not believe? Shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect?’ ”

“You are a most peculiar unbeliever, Mr. Kane,” Wright said, “to quote the Bible so glibly. But we must be wary of unbelievers amongst us. For the Bible also says, ‘Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief.’ We should have much less to do with the outside world, in my view. And we certainly shouldn’t be inviting outsiders to paw through our affairs.”

Well, there was no doubting that the old man read his Bible, Kane thought. Or that he was being stubborn to the point of obstructionism.

“Bible or no Bible,” Kane said, “if you withhold information that’s germane, that’s going to make people suspicious, isn’t it? It might make them wonder if you have something to hide.”

Wright laughed.

“Do you really think you’re going to get along in this community by threatening its leader your first day here?” he asked. “And with the wagging tongues of idle speculation?”

“I’m under the impression you’re not the leader of this community anymore,” Kane said mildly. “Your son is.”

The old man stood up. He wasn’t much taller standing than sitting, Kane noticed. He leaned toward Kane. Anger snapped in his eyes.

“My son couldn’t lead a children’s parade,” he said. “I am the ultimate authority here. You’ll do well to remember that.”

Kane stood.

“What I’ll remember is that you refused to assist in the investigation of your granddaughter’s disappearance,” he said quietly.

Wright’s shoulders sagged and he settled back in his chair.

“You’re right, Mr. Kane,” he said wearily. “Pride has always been my weakness. Come, sit down again, and I’ll do my best to help you. I may disagree with the decision to hire you, but I won’t obstruct your investigation. Besides, the sooner you finish, the sooner Rejoice can get back to doing God’s work.”

Kane sat, but the conversation that ensued wasn’t much help. The old man said he didn’t know his granddaughter all that well—“the generation gap, you know,” he said—and didn’t have any idea where she might be.

“She doesn’t come to you for spiritual counseling?” Kane asked. “I thought you were the leader of this community.”

The old man didn’t like the gibe, but he kept his temper in check.

“No,” he said, “not everyone is required to confide in me. Or even, as your presence here proves, to heed my counsel.”

“So who does she confide in?” Kane asked.

The old man seemed to think about that.

“I have no idea,” he said. “I’m under the impression that Faith keeps to herself for the most part.”

“Did that bother you? Not being close to your granddaughter?”

“Are we here to inquire into my emotional state?” the old man snapped.

Kane didn’t say anything.

“I can’t see how my preferences about the girl have any bearing,” Wright said in a milder tone. “Raising her was her parents’ responsibility. Of course, after his wife died my son made a mess of that, too.”

“Was her parents’ responsibility? Do you think Faith is dead?”

“No, no,” Wright said. “I have no reason to think that. I just meant that Faith is old enough to know her own mind. Besides, apparently teenagers no longer require instruction, even here in Rejoice.”

“That bother you?”

“Many things bother me, Mr. Kane. Rejoice is not what it was, and has yet to become what I hope it will be. The world is too much with us, and the other elders don’t seem to be bothered by that. We are in danger of becoming a strictly secular community.”

“Would that be so bad? Is religion so important to Rejoice?”

“Mr. Kane, please. Religion—faith, anyway—is the sole reason Rejoice continues to exist. Without it, we would just be another hardscrabble town, and why would anyone stay?”

“And the religion that is required here is the one you preach?” Kane asked.

The old man laughed.

“There is only one true religion,” he said, patting his Bible, “and that is the one found in this book. Every word in it is God’s word, and they are all literally true. I study it and try to interpret it, but more than that I try to be sure that Rejoice operates according to its precepts.”

Doors were opening and closing in the building. People were tramping out of the cafeteria and down the hall from lunch.

“What did you think of the decision to let your granddaughter attend the regional high school?” Kane asked.

“I opposed it, of course,” Wright said. “Our children receive a fine education here. Many of our graduates go on to the best Christian universities. There was no academic reason for her to change, no matter what she said.”

“So why do you think she changed schools?”

The old man sat for a moment, looking down at his Bible, as if he expected to find the answer to Kane’s question on one of its pages.

“I think she was curious about the secular world,” the old man said.

“So she was going to something, rather than away from something?”

Wright’s eyes came up from the page and locked with the detective’s.

“I’m not sure I understand your question,” he said.

Kane paused to marshal his thoughts. He’d been thinking about this a lot since Laurie had told him she wanted a divorce, but he’d never said anything out loud.

“When someone leaves,” he said, “there can be one of two reasons. First, they can be going to something: a better job, a better relationship. Second, they can be going away from something: a lousy job, a bad marriage, a problem, a threat. Which do you think Faith was doing?”

The old man picked up his pen and made some notes on his pad.

“I’ll have to see what the Bible says about that theory. It’s an interesting exercise in logic,” he said, “but couldn’t a person have both kinds of reasons? Or different reasons entirely. Like enticement by Satan?”

Kane looked at the old man again, seeing something more than he’d seen before. Be careful not to think of Moses Wright as just a Bible-thumping cartoon character, he thought.

“I suppose they can,” he said. “And there’s always the possibility that they don’t leave of their own free will.”

“Does anyone do anything of their own free will, Mr. Kane?” Wright said. “Aren’t we are all just tools of the Lord’s will?”

“If I’m a tool of the Lord, he’s got to be scraping the bottom of his toolbox,” Kane said. He raised a hand to forestall the old man. “Yes, I know. Blasphemy. But back to my question. Why do you think Faith changed schools?”

The old man shrugged.

“I’m afraid I have no idea,” he said. “I always supposed it was because she was drawn to the world in some way. I know of nothing in Rejoice she would be fleeing.”

“Do you really think this place is that perfect?” Kane asked.

Wright laughed.

“I don’t think Rejoice is at all perfect,” he said. “I’m sure that for younger people in particular it might seem small and boring, despite our efforts to keep our children engaged and occupied. But I don’t think it is actively hostile in any way. I suppose boredom may have been a goad to Faith, as it has been on occasion to others. But I doubt that was what caused her to change schools. Or to leave, for that matter.”

“If, as I said, she left of her own free will,” Kane said. “But there’s no use guessing when the future might provide facts. Where were you the day Faith disappeared? Last Friday?”

The old man’s eyes narrowed, but he answered civilly enough.

“I really can’t say,” he said. “As I get older, the days seem to blend together. But I expect I was where I usually am, here in this office reading the word of God and offering advice when asked.”

“You don’t recall seeing her? Speaking with her?” Kane asked.

Moses Wright shook his head.

“Did anything seem to be bothering her lately?” Kane asked.

“As I told you, we weren’t close. And Faith is a very private young woman. If there was something troubling her, she was perfectly capable of keeping it from me.”

“So you have nothing useful to tell me about her disappearance?”

“I’m afraid not. She wouldn’t have come to me, and if she had, I wouldn’t help her leave. I’d counsel her to stay, and open her heart to the Lord. Just as I counsel you to open your heart to the Lord.”

“But not to stay, eh? I thank you for your advice, Elder Moses Wright, but the Lord and I are going to have to work things out on our own.”

He took the pictures out of the manila envelope and laid them in front of the old man.

“Tell me what you know about these people,” he said.

Moses Wright looked at the first photo.

“This man is in league with the devil,” he said with surprising heat. “He has been a plague on this area since he arrived.”

“When was that?” Kane asked.

The old man thought for a moment.

“It was some years after we came here,” he said. “Five or six, I think.”

He was quiet again, then said, “Yes, he arrived within a few years of us, bringing with him all we sought to escape. Only the intervention of the Lord saved us. ‘Though I walk in trouble, thou wilt revive me.’ I believe he has made way for his offspring now. The boy—I suppose he is a man now—would be as evil as his father, but he doesn’t have the character.”

“Character?” Kane said. “That’s an odd word to use in this context.”

The old man looked at him, the ghost of a smile chasing across his lips.

“Real evil, like real goodness, requires real character, Mr. Kane,” he said. “Satan could not be the demon he is without character enough to prevent him from begging God for forgiveness. Pride and stubbornness are as much a part of character as kindness and loyalty. It is all a matter of how God allows them to mix in us.”

He slid the photo across the desk.

“The modern world wants to see character as a pure good,” he said, “but like everything given by God, it is a two-edged sword.”

The old man looked down at the second photograph.

“That’s me,” he said, “taken some time ago. Why would you have this photograph?”

Kane said nothing. The old man looked at him, waiting. When he realized the detective was not going to reply, he gave a little shrug, slid the picture across to Kane, and looked at the third photograph. He gave a start and leaned closer to it. He held that pose for so long Kane thought he might have fallen asleep. Or had a heart attack.

“Elder Wright?” Kane said at last. “Are you all right?”

The old man raised his head and stared at Kane. His face was pale and something not quite sane danced in his eyes.

“How dare you?” he said, his voice low but forceful. “How dare you show me this woman’s picture? Get out.”

Kane reached across the desk and tried to slide the picture over to himself. The old man resisted. Kane pried the picture loose and retrieved it, using plenty of muscle.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you angry,” he said, “but if I’m to find your granddaughter, I have to follow all leads.”

He smoothed the wrinkles out of the photograph and put it, along with the others, back into the envelope. The Lord might armor his children in righteousness, Kane thought, but the old man’s armor had a hell of a chink in it.

Wright had his hands on the desk, and they were working like he was trying to strangle someone.

“What would you know about righteous anger?” he asked. “What would you know about being made a laughingstock among people who respected you, among your followers?”

His voice was louder now, like he was preaching a sermon, and spittle flew from his lips as he spoke.

“What would you know about the damage she did to the Lord’s work here?” he said, his voice rising and falling in a preacher’s cadence, and at a preacher’s volume. “Let me tell you about this woman. She was Lot’s wife.”

The old man’s eyes were unfocused, staring into a place Kane could not see. Even as he watched the man rant, Kane couldn’t help admiring his performance. With that look and that voice, he could have gone far, the detective thought.

“Jesus said: ‘Remember Lot’s wife.’ Like Lot and his family, we were a small band fleeing the evils of the world. ‘And it came to pass, when they had brought them forth abroad, that he said, Escape for thy life; look not behind thee. . . . But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.’

“That woman came with us where God directed, but she looked back at the sin and wickedness of the world and fell back into the pit.”

The old man smote the desk with his fist. People in the hallway paused to look toward the noise but, with the restraint of people in small communities, passed on without inquiring into its cause.

“You mean she died?” Kane asked.

The old man’s eyes refocused on Kane.

“Died?” he said in a normal tone. “What makes you think she died?”

“Well, being turned into a pillar of salt can’t be good for you. Or falling into a pit.”

“She died to us, as all those who abandon God’s word die, even in life,” the old man said. Then, more softly, “Margaret left here, a long time ago, and no one has heard a word from her since. She left her lawful husband and her small child and returned to the evil, doomed cities of the plains.”

“You have no idea where she went?”

“None. But why are you interested? All this happened long before Faith was born.”

“So it did. What happened after Margaret Anderson left?”

The old man sank back down into his chair.

“Nothing happened,” he said, “nothing but a lot of loose talk. I hear some of it again now, renewed by Faith’s departure. Nasty whispers: ‘Those Wrights can’t seem to hold on to their women. Do you suppose there’s something wrong with them?’ ”

“Is there?” Kane asked.

The old man waved an angry hand at him and picked up his Bible again.

“This interview is finished,” he said.

Kane stood there looking at the old man’s strong, veined hands clutching the book that hid his face.

“We’ll leave this here for now,” Kane said, “but I’d encourage you to reflect on the fact that your granddaughter is missing, and that your obligation is to help find her. Not to protect your pride. You were quoting Isaiah to the elders just the other day. You should think about that yourself.”

“I don’t need the counsel of an unbeliever,” the old man rapped from behind his Bible. “Begone. Speak to me no more.”

Kane left the room. He felt happy.

I wonder what it is about upsetting that old man that makes me happy, he thought. That’s got to be a sin of some sort. But then, is it better to be a happy sinner than an unhappy Angel?