The rattling at the farmhouse door stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Nia stood frozen at the top of the staircase, barely breathing.
Then came the voice again.
“Nia… it’s Pastor Williams.”
Relief washed over her, but it was quickly replaced by suspicion.
Why would the pastor know she was here?
She waited another moment before descending the stairs, keeping one hand inside her satchel where Tanya’s letter rested.
When she opened the door, Pastor Benjamin Williams stood on the porch, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. At sixty-eight, he had served Carter Grove Missionary Baptist Church for more than three decades and had known nearly every member of the Carter family.
“I hope I didn’t frighten you,” he said with a gentle smile.
“You did.”
“I saw your car from the road.”
He glanced past her into the darkened house.
“I thought someone might have broken in.”
“I’m just looking through my grandmother’s things.”
“I figured as much.”
His eyes lingered for a moment too long on the satchel hanging from her shoulder.
“You’ve been asking about Tanya.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement.
Nia stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
“I’ve been asking a lot of questions.”
“I’ve heard.”
“People talk.”
“They always do.”
Pastor Williams folded his hands.
“Tanya was troubled.”
“So everyone keeps saying.”
“Sometimes people make choices we don’t understand.”
“Like running away?”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s what happened.”
Nia studied his face.
It was the same answer.
The same careful wording.
Almost identical to everyone else’s.
She decided to push.
“Did you counsel her before she disappeared?”
A flicker crossed his face.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because she attended your church.”
“I counseled many young people.”
“But Tanya?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
“What did she want to talk about?”
“I can’t discuss private conversations.”
“Even after twenty-five years?”
“My obligation doesn’t expire.”
His answer was measured.
Professional.
But something about it sounded rehearsed.
As Pastor Williams drove away, Nia sat in her car replaying every word.
No one ever answered directly.
Everyone spoke in circles.
And every conversation ended before it became uncomfortable.
She looked at the dashboard clock.
Ten minutes until the weekly Women’s Fellowship luncheon at Carter Grove Missionary Baptist Church.
If anyone remembered Tanya…
It would be the women who had watched generations grow up.
The fellowship hall buzzed with conversation as elderly women arranged casseroles, pies, and pitchers of sweet tea along folding tables.
Some had attended Carter Grove for fifty years.
Others for nearly seventy.
They had celebrated births, weddings, and homecomings.
They had mourned deaths.
And if Tanya had disappeared, surely they would remember.
“Well, look who’s here.”
Miss Odessa Brooks embraced Nia warmly.
“We haven’t seen you since your daddy’s funeral.”
“I’ve been working.”
“We’re proud of you.”
Several women nodded in agreement.
“Always on television exposing somebody,” another joked.
Nia laughed politely.
“I actually need your help.”
“With what?”
She reached into her satchel and removed the photograph.
The room grew noticeably quieter.
“You remember her, don’t you?”
No one answered immediately.
Instead, the women exchanged glances.
The kind shared without words.
Finally, Miss Hattie Johnson spoke.
“That’s Tanya.”
“I know.”
“What happened to her?”
Silence.
Then Miss Odessa sighed.
“They told you.”
“They said she ran away.”
“That’s right.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
Again.
The same answer.
Nia refused to let it end there.
“Did anyone look for her?”
“I imagine so.”
“Who?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Did the church pray for her?”
Miss Hattie frowned.
“We prayed for everybody.”
“But specifically for Tanya?”
No one answered.
An elderly woman sitting quietly at the far end of the table suddenly laughed.
Not loudly.
Softly.
Almost to herself.
Her name tag read:
Mrs. Gloria Simmons
She had to be nearly ninety.
“What are you laughing at?” Nia asked.
Gloria looked up.
“The stories.”
“What stories?”
“The ones people keep telling.”
Several women shifted uncomfortably.
Miss Odessa quickly interrupted.
“Gloria gets confused sometimes.”
“I’m not confused,” Gloria said sharply.
“I’m old.”
“There’s a difference.”
Nia pulled up a chair beside her.
“Do you remember Tanya?”
“I baptized her.”
“You did?”
Gloria nodded.
“She asked too many questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“The kind respectable families don’t like.”
The fellowship hall fell completely silent.
Miss Odessa stood abruptly.
“I think we’ve talked enough.”
But Gloria ignored her.
“Tanya wasn’t afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Truth.”
“What truth?”
Gloria’s eyes filled with sadness.
“She said evil wears church clothes.”
Several women gasped.
“Gloria!” someone whispered.
“You shouldn’t repeat that.”
“I’m tired of pretending.”
Nia leaned closer.
“What did Tanya discover?”
Before Gloria could answer, Miss Odessa gripped her shoulder.
“That’s enough.”
“No,” Gloria replied.
“It’s been enough for twenty-five years.”
The room erupted into nervous chatter as women began clearing plates that didn’t need clearing.
One quietly left the fellowship hall.
Another disappeared into the kitchen.
The atmosphere had changed completely.
Nia looked around.
Fear.
Not annoyance.
Fear.
Real fear.
Gloria reached into the pocket of her cardigan and slipped something into Nia’s hand beneath the table.
It was folded twice.
Yellowed with age.
“Don’t open it here,” Gloria whispered.
“What is it?”
“Something I should’ve given somebody a long time ago.”
Before Nia could respond, Pastor Williams entered the fellowship hall.
The room instantly fell silent.
He smiled warmly.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
No one spoke.
His eyes found Nia almost immediately.
Then they drifted to Gloria.
For just a second, his smile disappeared.
Nia excused herself and walked calmly toward the parking lot.
Only after locking herself inside her SUV did she unfold the paper Gloria had given her.
It wasn’t a letter.
It was a torn page from an old church prayer list.
Most of the names had faded beyond recognition.
Only one remained clearly readable.
Special Prayer Request
Tanya Carter
Below it, written in different handwriting, were four chilling words.
She knows too much.
Nia stared at the page.
No date.
No explanation.
Only those four words.
She turned the page over.
On the back was a scripture reference written in pencil.
Luke 8:17
She opened her Bible app and read the verse aloud.
“For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open.”
A chill ran through her.
Someone had been trying to tell the truth for twenty-five years.
And someone else had been making sure it stayed buried.
As Nia started the engine, she looked into her rearview mirror.
A black SUV pulled out of the church parking lot.
It kept a careful distance.
But every time she turned…
It turned too.
For the first time since returning home, Nia was certain of one thing.
She wasn’t just investigating the past anymore.
The past was following her.
End of Chapter Six