“He was watching me,” I said. “He knows I saw Sloane wearing the ring today.”

“He is panicking,” Julian said. “The walls are closing in on him.”

Pastor Whitcomb stepped out of the vestry, holding a set of brass keys.

He looked at Julian, then at me, sensing the tension in the room.

“Is everything all right?” the pastor asked.

“We need to use the chapel for a meeting, Pastor,” I said. “Tonight.”

Pastor Whitcomb frowned, looking at the darkening windows. “Tonight? It is nearly six o’clock.”

“It has to be tonight,” Julian said. “We have the completed financial audit from the forensic accountants.”

“The proof of the embezzlement?” the pastor asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And the proof of what happened to my grandmother’s trust.”

Pastor Whitcomb looked at the altar, then sighed and nodded.

“If it brings the truth to light, you may use the sanctuary,” he said. “I will keep the doors unlocked.”

“Thank you, Pastor,” I said. “I need you to stay for this. Your family’s name is on the original trust documents.”

“I understand,” he said. “I will be in my study until you are ready.”