Non-Prophet

By: Griffin Cobb

November 3, 2009

When the news broke that Pastor Albert Winshaw had been arrested for embezzlement, the Tennille Times assigned Lainey Williams to the beat. She’d immediately driven towards the county jail, but the journalism money hadn’t been enough to get new tires this year. About halfway there, a beer bottle on a back road gave her a flat. 

Her son, Devon, along with her granddaughter, Grace, drove to meet her, spare tire in tow. It was Saturday, so neither had church, and Grace didn’t have school. Lainey leaned against her son’s car, November winds cutting past her two jackets. Wheat fields bordered either side of the road, their pale yellow dim against the overcast sky. Grace sat in the driver's seat, windows rolled down while Devon unbolted the popped tire. They’d taken the opportunity to practice driving before her sixteenth birthday next month. 

“And then Dylan passed out, and Michael thought he’d killed him and started crying, but then Dylan woke back up and it turned out he just passed out from the shock,” Grace said.

“Is Dylan or Michael the cute one?” Lainey said.

“Grams.”

“I’m your grandma, I’ve gotta ask.”

“You really don’t”

“Too bad. Answer.”

Grace sighed. “Neither, but Michael’s sweet, if a little stupid.”

“Sounds right up your alley.”

“Please stop.”

 “Alright alright. And this was all in computer science?” Lainey said.

“Yeah, we were learning about electrical inputs and stuff. It was boring as fuck until the whole Dylan thing.” Grace lowered her voice to say “fuck” so that her dad wouldn’t hear. In addition to being a preacher, he was also an uptight ass.

“I thought you liked that computer stuff?” Lainey said.

“I like doing computer stuff, the class sucks ass.” 

“Who’s teaching it again?”

“Mr. Crosby.”

“Ah. Yeah he’s a dick. Divorced his wife back in the day for a former student, who left him high and dry. Been angry about it ever since.”

“Well his problems shouldn’t fuck up my test scores,” Grace said. “Shit is impossible. Why do I need to know what the fuck a transponder is? I can make a website, I can scrub through files. If the class were actually about computer science, I’d have an A.”

“And what do you have?”

“C plus.” Grace went on her new smartphone or whatever they were called, something new and shiny Lainey knew Devon couldn’t afford, not on a preacher’s salary at least. His wife had passed not long after Grace was born, maybe it was leftover life insurance money. Either way, Lainey had half a mind to chastise them both for wasting money, but the kid never asked for much, so she bit her tongue.

Devon finally pulled the popped tire free and set it in the back of his truck. He grabbed the spare while Lainey took out a dwindling pack of cigarettes and lit one.

“For heaven’s sake mom I thought you quit,” Devon said.  He hated her smoking, and she hated him reminding her.

“I write, kid, and so I smoke,” she said.

“Mom, stop making up your own rules.”

“Not makin’ anything up. Just how it is.”

“Could you at least not do it in front of Grace?”

Grace was slowly rolling the window up. “You’re putting yourself in an early grave, Grams,” she said before the window closed.

“Grace!” Devon snapped.

Lainey took a deep breath. “Nothin’ early about it, no idea how I’m still standing. And when I do die, you’re both crematin’ me.” 

Devon pinched his temples. The only thing Devon hated more than Grace’s decorum and his mom’s smoking was Lainey’s lack of faith. 

When Lainey moved here to raise Devon, there’d been an air of distrust towards the two. The town believed in their lord and savior, Jesus Christ, and Lainey believed in the present, getting the truth to those who needed to know. Over the years, distrust turned to hostility before mellowing out into wariness. It never bothered her until Devon started going on Sundays with his friends’ parents. Then, it was by himself. Then it was on Wednesdays, and soon, he was up on the podium nearly every day. He once told her, after finally becoming a preacher nearly a decade ago, that he feared for her soul. It cut Lainey deeply, but not enough to break her pride. Since then, they simply talked less. 

Lainey figured, since she had him here, now would be the perfect time to press him.

“So, think your almighty Winshaw’s innocent?” she said.

Devon, now installing the spare tire, paused. “Pastor Winshaw’s always been an exemplary man, fervent in his faith as one could be. Whatever investigation or trial they put him through, I’m sure they’ll find him as innocent as he is devout.”

“And if he’s not?”

“He is.”

“You’re really that sure? Devon, this is why I worry about you. Have whatever faith in God you want, but don’t blindly lump in people with that just cause—”

“Mom, please, just drop this.”

“I can’t ‘just drop this’. You’re my son. Plus, I’m coverin’ this story. I’ll be nose deep in Winshaw’s shit til he’s got a verdict.” Nearly every resident of Tennille, Georgia— and, by extension, most reporters of the Tennille Times— were Baptist. Lainey wasn’t a believer and thus had no conflict of interest. Ironically, she reported on the church almost exclusively because of her atheism. She’d covered renovations, community gatherings, and the occasional holiday food drive. The arrest of Pastor Winshaw was, in a sense, no different.

“Well until then, leave me out of it. When he’s found innocent, then you can apologize.”

Grace, had left the window open just a crack to keep listening. The girl sank into her chair, trying not to look as sad as she did. Despite what her behavior might imply, Grace was still Christian, and at church as much as any other kid in Tennille. Winshaw was a pillar of respect and community, especially for the youths.

While she felt bad for the two, and a bit vindictive, Lainey saw an opportunity in this shit show. If Devon was this defensive, then he must be more rattled than she’d thought. If Winshaw really was guilty, it might shake him just enough. And she was not above pushing her son.

“Fine, if he’s innocent, I’ll apologize. Hell, I’ll even clear out my Sundays, start attendin’ sermons,” She said. Devon perked up excitedly at the prospect but immediately narrowed his eyes, knowing something would come next. “But, if he’s found guilty, you’re gonna have to apologize to me, and,” her wrinkles deepened as she smiled. “The paper’s got need of a copy chief. Pays just as good as a preacher.”

Lainey could see the frustration and near disgust at her offer. But Devon was still her son; beneath it all, she saw gears turning and options being weighed. They both enjoyed wagers, and they both loved being right. It connected them as much as it divided them.

He thought about it until the spare was fully attached and Lainey had finished another cigarette. The jack and socket wrench went into his trunk before locking eyes with his mother.

“Deal,” he said

“You sure about that, kid? You got that much faith in Winshaw?”
“I’ve got faith in the lord and in my community. And I’ve got faith you’ll see the truth.”

“Feel like I need this in writing. But, since it’s relevant, I’ll just put my faith in your word.” There was a look in Devon’s eye she couldn’t place, but he seemed serious. Lainey nodded, knocked on the window to say bye to Grace, and then got in her car. She drove off towards the precinct, determined to get her son back.

December 22, 2009

Lainey stood in the corner of the Tennille Baptist Church’s nave, shifting her weight every few minutes and trying not to show how uncomfortable she was. Wreaths wrapped around the halls, tiny motes of fluorescent light peeking through the faux pine. Service ended, and the congregation flooded out and around the large Christmas tree that stood in front of the main entrance. Tennille was not an ostentatious town nor a rich one, but when Christmas came, every purse and pocketbook flew open.

This made Pastor Winshaw’s crimes that much more vile in Lainey’s mind. As hostile as Tennille had been to her throughout the years, it was difficult not to think of it as home. These people were robbed blind by the one they trusted the most, and, most frustrating of all, barely anyone saw him as a criminal. In the atrium, the youth group collected funds for a gift basket to be ready for when Winshaw returned.

Since his arrest, Winshaw had been officially charged with three counts of larceny, a total of a hundred thousand dollars over the course of three years taken from the church and placed into his pockets. Apparently, the only reason he’d been arrested was thanks to an anonymous tip — an email full of public tax forms, never scrutinized, as well as some more conspicuously acquired personal finances of Winshaws. Whoever sent it knew anyone in the town would’ve ignored it the moment they saw who was being accused, as both the Tennille police force and two county sheriff departments received the message. The church had funded his bail, and so Winshaw now sat at home on house arrest, awaiting trial in April

As the crowd flooded out, uncomfortable glances shot Lainey’s way. She was a reminder of what they all wished to ignore. Lainey couldn’t fathom how they all convinced themselves of Winshaw’s innocence. If a hundred grand vanishing without a trace could be chalked up to the wind, she considered quitting the paper and just robbing the bank. 

Left sitting in the pews were a few old women gossiping in the back, a youth group leader cleaning up, and Devon and Grace up front, talking to another kid Lainey assumed was a school friend of Grace’s. 

Before Lainey could join, Grace and her friend got up to leave, meeting her mid-way down the aisle. Grace smiled; new car keys dangled from her hip. She’d gotten her license earlier this month, and Devon, with whatever money, had bought her a used Corolla as a mix of a birthday and Christmas gift.

“Headed out already, kid?” Lainey said. She eyed the boy next to her. She didn’t recognize him, but from the nervous look and awkward stance, she figured this was Michael from computer science

“Yeah, gotta get ready to meet some friends for a lil Christmas party,” she said. “Oh, and this is Michael.”

The kid reached out a nervous hand, struggling to keep eye contact. “Nice, uh, nice to meet you, Ms. Williams.”

“Williams was my husband's name,” Lainey said, deadpan.

Michael just kind of stuttered awkwardly while Grace glared at her.

“I’m just kiddin ya kid,” Lainey said. “No need to freak, I’m just an old lady.” Michael chuckled half-heartedly and Grace shot her another look.

“Alright, alright, I won’t keep y’all. Just don’t do drugs or stupid,” she stopped herself from cursing. “Stuff.”

Grace sighed. “Grams, we’re just going to Denny’s.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, that might just be worse than doin’ drugs.” The two laughed. Michael just darted his eyes back and forth. Grace elbowed him, and he gave a soft, fake laugh. They were absolutely going to do drugs, Lainey thought. Part of her wanted to act like a proper guardian and discourage her granddaughter. The other part of her remembered the few grams of weed she kept in the medicine cabinet for particularly stressful days. Lainey was many things but a hypocrite only rarely.

“Well just be safe,” Lainey continued. “Don’t run anyone over.”

“Not unless they deserved it,” Grace said. Michael looked panicked again.

“Alright, get goin before you give your Dad an aneurysm.” With that, Grace jogged out, Michael quickly trailing behind. She could overhear the boy asking Grace if she’d forgotten her car keys immediately after. That slight bit of concern made Lainey like him just a bit more.

 The old ladies, whom Lainey could have just called ladies, followed along with the youth group leader. Up front, Devon stood alone, shuffling back to the podium, gathering his papers.

“Kid’s gettin too old y’know,” Lainey said. Devon and Lainey never really talked about parenting. Lainey blamed him for being so closed off to her parenting approach, but that didn’t stop her from pushing for those talks every now and then.

“Mom, when you keep calling everyone ‘kid’ we can’t tell who you’re talking about.” Devon paused like he was choosing whether or not to keep up the conversation. Lainey thought he never talked to her more than he needed, but either exhaustion or the holiday spirit pushed him to keep speaking. 

“But yes, she is. She’s always been years ahead of her own age, so it feels like catching up more than anything,” he said. He did seem tired, Lainey thought

“Sounds about right. Wouldn’t know what that’s like, you were always laggin’ behind as a kid. Shocked me every time you avoided repeatin’ a grade.” Lainey chuckled but cut herself off as Devon remained silent. “How’s, uh, how’s that boy she was with? We like him?”

“His name’s Michael, and yes, I like him. He’s sweet, his family moved here a couple years ago. They’re good folk, helps out during the food drives.”

“As long as he ain’t a dipshit or druggie.”

Devon sighed. “Mother, please not in church.” As he spoke, the oddity of her attendance finally struck him. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“What, a mom can’t come see her son and granddaughter for Christmas?”

“A mom, maybe. You, specifically, no. And it’s not Christmas.”

The jab was subtle, but Lainey reeled slightly at the implication she wasn’t a mom. She thought it best to ignore it for the moment, she’d chastise him later. She had work to do.

“Fine, fine,” Lainey said. “Winshaw’s trial is set, County news is starting to take notice, even heard the Atlanta Journal’s sniffin’ around.”

“Lovely, what does that have to do with you being here?” Devon asked.

“I may be good, but the paper can’t compete with those big guys. Not without some help from the locals, that is—”

“Mom, spit it out.”

“I need ya to get the church’s books for me. Expenditure, timelines, whatever payroll y’all believe in, anything that could show all the lil holes Winshaw poked in the system over the years.”

Devon fell silent. He stood there, before just shaking his head and walking away.

“Hey, listen when your mom’s speakin’ to you!” Lainey called after.

“Why in god’s name would I do that?”

“What, listen to me or help me?”

“Honestly, both at this point.” Devon walked to the back of the church and swung open the office door, Lainey rushing up behind. She was getting more and more frustrated by the second.

“Alright Devon, I put up with plenty of your attitude, and never say a word, but this is disrespectful as-”

Devon turned on a heel, making eye contact with her for the first time tonight. “My attitude? Me, disrespectful? You come into my place of worship, hide in the corner, start swearing, and ask me to start handing over documents just so you can write a good article about how my boss is a bad person. Please, Mom, tell me what part of this conversation has been me disrespecting anything.”

“Oh please, Mr. high and mighty, ever since you’ve joined this fuckin hivemind, all you do is look down on me. This whole town’s been on my ass since we moved just cause I’ve read more than one book. And, somehow, when the head of your whole troupe turns out to be an actual criminal, I’m somehow more of the villain! I’ll disrespect as much as I want at this point.”

They’d had this fight over and over for the past decade, but it had been a couple of years since it got this intense. Both needed to be right. For Lainey, at one point, because she wanted her son’s respect, but that seemed to be a lost cause. Now it was more for simple pride. For Devon, Lainey never cared to imagine why. She figured it was just her genetics shining through. Hell, the desire to always be right probably led him to being a preacher, in part. The irony would hit her during some of those high, lonely nights. 

Instead of retorting, as Lainey expected, Devon clenched his teeth before returning to his desk. “Just leave, Mom. I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“Leave? Devon, you started this whole thing. I’m not just gonna—”

“Mom, please.” They locked eyes again. “Just stop.” His voice was soft and exasperated. Lainey hadn’t ever seen her boy so tired.

“Alright,” she said. It was hard, but Lainey dropped her pride for a second to act like a mom again. “Devon, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, holidays are just busy.” Silence stretched between the two for a minute before Devon spoke again. “So, what, you want more dirt on Winshaw?” Something was definitely wrong.

“I don’t expect you to have the past three years of payroll all neatly stapled or anything, just wanted to ask if you could get together what records you could. The more detail I can get on the timeline of his shit, the better.”

“What’s that gonna do, Mom? Whatever email the district attorney got was enough to charge him, The man’s good as convicted. And no news story is gonna be better just because you’ve got the exact pennies.”

“No, but when he took it could be— wait, you think he’s gonna be convicted now?”

“Yeah, of course. As much as you like to think, I’m not an idiot.”

“Devon, what? What happened to your blazen faith in his innocence? Y’all were literally taking donations for a gift basket.”

“Mom, everyone knows. Everyone knows Winshaw’s guilty.”

Lainey was stunned. After all these years, she still couldn’t wrap her head around this fucking town.

Devon sat up at his desk and rubbed his eyes. “Everyone’s always known, subconsciously at least. Winshaw wasn’t the most upfront guy to begin with. But if we acknowledge, we acknowledge that you can believe in God and go to church and preach love and still be a bad person. Tennille can’t handle that. Money’s rough, money’s always rough, but faith is gonna get us through rough times more than a hundred thousand dollars would.”

Lainey’s head spun as she tried to understand the logic. She never could grasp faith, in any measure. Truth and facts had always been how she navigated life. “Christ, this fucking town.”

Devon continued. “Again, I’m not saying everyone is convinced he’s guilty, just that no one cares either way.”

“And you, you don’t care?” Lainey asked.

“It’s, I don’t know. I do, I do care, but I’ve just got too much on my plate. Since he was arrested, I’ve been filling in, on top of preaching, on top of Grace’s school. I know Winshaw’s guilty, but I know I can’t care and still hold everything together.”

“Devon, that doesn’t make any sense. You knew he was guilty?”

Devon sat, silent.

Lainey was confused and even more frustrated. “See, this is what I don’t understand! Is there any integrity in this place? You preach day in and day out about morals but can’t bother to hold your own accountable?” With the influx of information, Lainey had completely forgotten about the article and why she was writing it in the first place. “Hell, Devon, why make our bet in the first place if you knew?”

“Why do you care? You wanted me out of here anyways.”

“I wanted you to see reason, to not blindly follow a crook stealing money from a bunch of fanatics. How long have you known?” 

“He wasn’t subtle, mom. When eight grand disappears from the mission fund, you notice.” 

Lainey didn’t understand. Part of her, however angry, could grasp choosing to ignore Winshaw's crimes. Blind faith was abundant in this town. But why Devon would bet his job on it, knowing full well that Winshaw was guilty— 

“Fucking hell,” Lainey said. “Devon, you were in on it.”

Devon looked down like a child caught shoplifting. If his silence wasn't enough, he gave a small, pitiful nod of admission.

More and more little inconsistencies started to clear up as Lainey’s mind raced. “The car, Grace’s phone, that’s where you got the money.”

“I’d known for a bit, a couple of us had. But every time he fudged the numbers, we’d get a bonus. If we said something, either the church would go into chaos, or we would be fired and shunned.”

“Yeah, what a hell being shunned by this fuckin town would be.” Lainey didn’t know how to feel, so she fell back on being angry.

“Hey, it’s not like you’ve made much of an effort to better your image.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Devon, let me just fake my fucking beliefs so I could get a tiny bit of the kindness y’all love to preach.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean? Christ Devon, you’re my own son and I still can’t understand you, understand any of this.”

Devon stood up. Lainey saw he was shaking and wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing so. “Like you’ve ever tried.” His voice was low and shaky. “Why the hell do you think I started coming to church? You understand everyone in town didn’t like you, but have you ever taken one goddamn moment to think of what that meant for me? The looks from parents, the remarks in class, my own teachers treating me like an idiot; I was twelve in a town that hated my mom who hated them back so much she ignored her own son.”

Each sentence was like a dagger into Lainey. Her anger kept her from fully processing anything, but her body felt weak and wounded.

Devon sat down, exhausted and teary-eyed. “So I started going, and everyone started being nice, and I found people who paid attention to me. I found a God who thought I was important.”

Lainey felt like she’d just run a marathon. The torrent of emotions swirling around gave her more chills than normal. It was too much at once. Unexpectedly, thought she couldn’t quite think straight, on the cusp of her subconscious, she fumbled with the question — had her son abandoned her, or had she abandoned him? Whatever the answer, she wouldn’t admit to anything right now. Not to a thief, a liar.

“Happy to see uprooting my life and slaving away at a shitty newspaper was worth it,” Lainey said. “Thank God you found the church to get away from your terrible mother so you could grow up to be a righteous thief.”

Devon didn’t respond.

“How much’d you take?” Lainey asked.

Devon stayed silent.

“Devon, how much.” If her son wanted an attentive mother, he would get one. She stared him down until he spoke.

“Ignoring all those little bonuses from Winshaw, about eight thousand.”

“All that for a car and phone?”

“I’m taking her and Michael to the Gulf on spring break, too.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep.” Devon stared at the ceiling. “A little here and there for groceries.” 

 Despite her convictions, Lainey couldn’t keep the same level of anger knowing it was all for Grace. With a bit of respite, and not wanting to tire herself anymore, Lainey subdued herself to being just a reporter for now.

“Why start stealing now, what happened with all those ‘bonuses’?”

Devon seemed too tired to argue. “Just wasn’t enough. Mortgage went up, Grace’s birthday was soon. If Winshaw wasn’t gonna get reported, neither was I.”

“But he was. Who sent the DA that email?”

“No idea. At first, I was terrified, but it was kind of perfect. Tennille could write it off like just another empty threat, Winshaw probably wouldn’t be convicted, but also wouldn’t want to come back and deal with any suspicion. I’d step up as Pastor, enjoy the raise, and then stop the scheme altogether, no one the wiser.” It frightened and impressed Lainey how thoroughly he’d thought through this. She didn’t give him enough credit. She never did, really. 

“Still not sure who sent the email,” he continued. “But whoever did, whatever their intentions, they gave me a hell of a blessing.” That kind of dumb luck infuriated Lainey. Not a damn thing is learned when disaster is saved by some whistle-blowing miracle.

“So why make that bet in the first place?” Lainey asked. She still couldn’t place the logic behind that.

“Honestly, I just lied. Part of me was sick of talking about it and wanted to go home. The other part, since I’d just found out, expected to be arrested by then. Didn’t really matter either way.” Lainey, reporter and herald of the truth, raised a liar.

What would she do with him? “Whatever your plan, Devon, I’ve still got my story. Any big idea for keeping your name out of it?”

Devon took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I guess part of me had some hope my Mom would, for once, choose her son over her pride.” 

Lainey couldn’t find a response, so she said nothing more, and neither did Devon. A moment passed, and Lainey walked out, still cold. With her ear against the wall outside the office, Grace was crying, car keys in hand. So she had forgotten them, Lainey thought.

“Oh, Grace, kid,” she said, but Grace just turned and ran back out the door. Lainey stood for a moment, her granddaughter’s face now adding a new weight to this hell. It was too much to think about at once, so she made her way out of the church.

December 25, 2009

Lainey sat in her home, alone, blankets draped over her feet and a legal pad on her lap. It was nearly sundown. She was supposed to be at Devon’s for brunch but decided against it. Neither he nor Grace had come to check on her afterward. It had given her time to make a decision and finish her final draft of the story.

March 31, 2010

It was Sunday afternoon. Lainey stirred a pot of soup while Grace lay on the couch, looking through a magazine. She’d been staying at Lainey’s since the year started. After her feature ran, Devon was questioned and arrested, and like Winshaw, eventually was bailed out and put under house arrest while he awaited trial in May.

In the meantime, Grace’s phone and car had been repossessed, and Lainey now took her to school.

“Is Michael comin’ over today?” Lainey asked.

“No, he’s got computer science homework,” Grace replied.

“Doesn’t that mean you have computer science homework?”

“Probably.”

Grace left it at that, and Lainey was tempted to do the same, but someone needed to be a hardass without Devon. She walked over and grabbed the magazine from her. 

“C’mon, C’s get degrees but A’s and B’s let you use Gram’s gas.” Grace rolled her eyes but got up. She pulled sheets of paper from her backpack, and Lainey wondered what kind of computer science homework could be printed, but computers in general confused her.

She took the soup off the burner, and poured a couple of bowls before turning on the small box of a TV she vaguely understood. She never changed the channel, so Fox 5 immediately flickered on. The weatherman was mid-sentence when the cameras switched back to the hosts, “Breaking News” flashing across the screen.

“Folks, an urgent message for the Washington County residents. Tennille City Police report a suspect under house arrest, sixty-four-year-old Albert Winshaw, who has fled, driving southbound. Police say they are armed and dangerous, driving a 2008 Silverado. All residents, please stay inside and lock your doors.”

Lainey spilled her soup across the floor, burning part of her hand and calf. Grace looked at her wide-eyed. Devon lived just ten minutes south of Winshaw’s.

Immediately, the two leaped up. Frantic, Lainey searched for her keys. “Grace, go to my room. Bottom drawer of the left nightstand, grab the box.”

“What?” Grace exclaimed.

“Grace, now!”

Grace scurried down the hall and came back with a black box while Lainey dried what soup she could and grabbed her keys. Lainey took the box, fiddled with the combination lock, and took out her handgun. 

“Grams, oh my god, what-”

“Grace, I need you to listen. You’re gonna go back in my room, lock the door, and wait until I or the police pull in. You can see who drives up from the window. If it’s anyone but me, your father, or the police, you stay in that room, got it?”

“What, no! If Dad’s in danger,”

“Grace, you’re staying here.” Lainey finished loading and tucked the gun in her waistline. But before she could grab her keys again, Grace swiped them and started out the door. 

“Let's go, I drive faster!” she called out as she ran out the door.

Especially after these three months, Grace was taking after her, and she was furious. But wasting time arguing seemed to be a worse decision. Lainey was barely standing, panic threatening to shut her down. She followed Grace before she could think about it anymore. The car was already started, still sporting the spare tire from five months ago. Lainey hopped into the passenger seat, and Grace peeled out of the driveway.

“You’re Dad’s gonna kill me,” Lainey muttered. Grace kept silent. Lainey could see her knuckles turning white. The kid was shaking. Lainey reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “Hey, you’re Dad’s gonna be fine. He’s not an idiot, he can handle himself.” He had been since he was born, Lainey thought.

The two made the eight-minute drive in what felt like two hours, all in silence. The entire ride, Lainey’s mind raced to the worst possible scenario before she thought of a new worst scenario to replace it. Was her son about to be murdered by his own Pastor? Why now? Winshaw’s trial was in just a few days, but he’d been sitting silent since his arrest. Maybe something broke him. Something like Lainey’s article. She didn’t know why or how, but her gut was screaming that this was her fault, that whatever state she’d find her son in was her fault. Christ, she didn’t even know what she was doing now, having her sixteen-year-old granddaughter shuttle her with a loaded gun in tow, chasing a pastor. But she had to do something. 

Grace pulled up to the stop sign just a block away from Devon’s when Lainey told her to stop. “Now, you stay here. No questions, no nothing. Put it in park, don’t move. Keep the car running, if anyone approaches, drive away from or into them. Got it?” Grace, still pale and shaking, nodded.

Lainey stepped out of the car, slammed the door, waited for Grace to lock the doors, and then jogged off to Devon’s. As she approached, she saw a 2008 Silverado parked behind Devon’s car in the driveway. Lainey pulled out her pistol and took the safety off.

She crept towards the porch, where the front door was open. Inside, she heard shouting. She never heard him in church but had done an interview or two, so she recognized the wheezing-adjacent way Winshaw talked.

“All ya had to do, Williams, was shut up, lay low, and keep your bitch of a mother out of our fuckin business!” Winshaw shouted. Devon stood against his living room wall, hands in the air, while Winshaw pointed a shotgun at his chest.

“Albert, I didn’t know she was gonna do anything,” Devon said. Hearing her child with such worry in his throat set Lainey’s hair on end. 

“Like hell you didn’t know!” Winshaw yelled. “She pokes her nose fuckin everywhere. No jury woulda’ convicted me, I’d be free ta move outta this shithole, and you’d sit pretty as Pastor. But with your ass in the mix, well, lemme just say I ain’t trust ya to keep your mouth shut anymore.”  Lainey hid behind the front door. It felt like poor timing, but she muttered a small prayer under her breath, just in case.

“So what, now you’re just gonna kill me?” Winshaw didn’t respond, only cocked the shotgun back. Lainey stepped from behind the door and leveled her pistol at Winshaw, who was turned just enough away that he couldn't see her, but Devon could. 

“Mom?” he said. 

Christ, her son was an idiot.

Winshaw whipped around to see Lainey, who stepped back behind the door and fired at him. The bullet ripped past and hit the far wall, missing Winshaw but causing him to duck. By instinct or by accident, he fired back, splintering the bottom part of the front door. Some of the shrapnel flew into Lainey's calf. She cried out and crumpled to one knee. Devon shouted after her, but she couldn’t see. 

“Lainey, you fuckin bitch! This is all cause a’ you!” Winshaw shouted. Before he could cock back the shotgun, Lainey leaned back out and took another shot. The pain in her leg caused her to buckle, and she missed again, but it was close enough to cause Winshaw to flinch again and give Devon enough time to come running up from behind and tackle the pastor. The old man wheezed and dropped his shotgun. Devon scrambled over to grab it, but Winshaw wriggled out from under him. With what agility he still had, the pastor darted out the front door, limping like the fall had hurt his leg. 

Devon went over to Lainey, saying something that she couldn’t quite hear over the pain in her leg and the terror and anger in her chest. Devon tried to help her up, but she leaned forward and pointed her gun at Winshaw again, who was running towards his car. Devon shouted something she ignored. She aimed. Then her car crashed into the side of Windshaw, sending him and the spare wheel skidding down the sidewalk.

March 31, 2010: 10 p.m.

Lainey sat inside the ambulance, gauze around her leg, propped up on a gurney. The EMTs said the wound wasn’t that bad. Only a few splinters from the door went in a fair bit, and the rest was just surface damage. Nothing a couple of months couldn’t fix.

Grace sat next to her, still doing her homework. Thankfully, she hadn’t been injured when she drove into Winshaw. The same couldn’t be said for him, though. He was still alive, frustratingly, Lainey thought. But enough bones had been broken that he’d spend more time in the hospital than he would jail — at least on the embezzlement charges. The attempted murder charge that awaited him would probably keep him locked up until the end. 

Devon, surprisingly, sat across from Grace. He also hadn’t been injured, thankfully. The police had agreed to let him sit in with Lainey, ignoring the house arrest for a few hours. Both officers were regulars at church. Lainey figured if the powers that be were gonna be biased, she might as well enjoy it when it was in her family's favor.

“Either of you know when IBM was founded?” Grace asked. Lainey and Devon looked at each other, then back at her, and shrugged. “Awesome, thanks guys,” she said.

They sat in silence for a little longer before Devon said, “God, I’m sorry Mom.”

“Christ kid, what are you sorry for? You didn’t shoot a door into me.” Lainey said. “Hell, I think I almost shot you a couple times.”

For the first time in months, Lainey heard Devon laugh. “Yeah, great aim. But no, I mean, for everything. For Christmas, for everything before. Just, everything.” His laugh wilted away into a soft murmur.

Lainey’s heart sank. Being right, if you could even call this being right, hurt. She reached over and grabbed Devon’s hand. “Fine, apology accepted. And, shit Devon, I’m sorry too. I coulda been a better mom, coulda been a better grandma, coulda been a better person.” They sat there for a moment, just holding hands, tears welling. “But I still got you here, and I’ll take that.”

Devon smiled, then cocked his head. “Well, not for a bit, maybe. Our lawyer thinks I can get off with just a fine and parole, but we’ll have to see if Winshaw helps or hurts my case.”

“If you could make it through bein’ a preacher, prison’ll be nothin,” Lainey tried to assure both of them, but the thought still terrified her. Devon had a lot to respect about him, but he was not suited to handle prison life.

“We’ll see,” he said. “Either way, think the paper would hire a felon?”

Lainey chuckled. “If they’ve kept me around long enough, can’t see why they’d have a problem. Just hurry in so I can retire.”

“You, retire? I can’t picture that,” Devon said. “Y’know, I did read the article you wrote. Besides outing me to the public, not bad.”

“You’re damn right. Made its way to Fox 5. I’m famous now,” Lainey said. “I went and pulled all those pay stubs and tax forms from the library computers after I found out how they work the damned things.”

“Really sleuthed everything out huh?”

“At least got a timeline together. You pretty much told me the rest. Only thing I couldn’t figure out was-”

Grace blurted out, “Me, it was me, I sent the email.” Lainey and Devon looked at her, dumbfounded. “I, fuck, sorry, shit, sorry Dad, didn’t mean to cuss.”

The two adults just stared in silence, before Lainey muttered out, “Grace, kid, we’ve got to talk about what normal teenagers are supposed to do.”

“What do you mean, exactly, Grace?” Devon finally said.

“Well, y’know, like when school started, I overheard you talking to Winshaw on the phone about all the money stuff, and I wasn’t really surprised, but we learned about archiving in class like the day before, and my teacher said a lot of businesses keep their records online now, and me and Dylan and Michael started poking around…” She trailed on for another minute or so, Lainey not understanding a word and Devon seemingly in the same boat. Eventually, she finished her story with sending the email. “I just thought, if Winshaw got arrested, Dad would get promoted, and everything would be great,” she explained. “Sorry Dad, I didn’t know you stole too.” Devon groaned but Lainey stifled a laugh. 

“You are just like me/your grandmother,” Lainey and Devon said in unison. That made all three laugh, and they sat in that tension break for a while. 

Lainey eventually reached into her pocket and pulled out another pack of cigarettes. “Think they’ll let me smoke in the ambulance?”

“Christ, Mom, no,” Devon said. He looked disappointed for a moment, then like he had an idea. Before Lainey could put them away, he grabbed the pack from her. “But I can go outside.”

“Hey, I bought those!” Lainey said.

“I’m a thief, remember,” Devon said, a sly grin Lainey couldn’t help but copy.

“Can I have one?” Grace asked. Lainey gave her a flat stare, but Devon looked pensive for a moment. 

“Fuck it, why not?” he said. “Rather you try this out with me, not Daniel, or Michael, or whoever.” Grace gave a stone-faced nod, letting Lainey know she needed to have a word with Michael about smoking with her granddaughter.

But Devon offered Grace one, who took it and hopped out of the ambulance. Devon followed suit, waving to Lainey.

“Hey, kid,” Lainey called out. “Love you.”

Devon smiled. “Love you too, mom.” He followed after Grace, and Lainey relaxed and leaned back into her gurney. She felt warm.