CHAPTER 8Bill Henry pulled into the neatly lined, newly resurfaced church parking lot, which was empty except for an aging gray Dodge. He paused momentarily to admire the perfectly manicured lawn, glistening under the spray of an automatic sprinkler system. The artificial shower produced two brilliant rainbows in the morning sunlight. Climbing from the black Taurus, he studied the Maple Shade Presbyterian Church, an impressive complex of perfectly matched brick, vivid stained glass windows and an enormous cross filling the space above the front doors, which he soon discovered were locked. He circled what he assumed to be the sanctuary building and tried another door. It, too, was locked. Next, he stepped to a kitchen, its lights shining within. Locked. He tried two more doors unsuccessfull
