Chapter 7: Abigail’s True Face

I waited until the stroke of midnight. The moon was a thin sliver, barely illuminating the gravel path leading into the Covenant compound. Using an old maintenance key I’d kept from my caretaking days, I slipped through the side gate. The air was still, only the distant croak of frogs breaking the silence.

I moved like a ghost through the familiar grounds, my footsteps quiet on the dew-kissed grass. The chapel doors creaked softly as I eased them open. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of aged wood and beeswax.

My flashlight beam cut through the darkness, finding the alter. Behind it, almost hidden by shadows, sat Mother Abigail’s velvet sewing chest. My hands trembled as I found the false bottom, the secret lining. I used my paring knife, the same one I used for peeling apples, to carefully cut it open.

Inside, nestled amongst spools of thread and thimbles, were two small, leather-bound books. Mother Abigail’s personal daily diaries. And beneath them, tucked into a pristine envelope, were medical autopsy reports. Samuel’s autopsy reports.

I sat on the cold floor, the flashlight beam a small, intense pool on the pages. The diaries were dated, meticulous. Abigail’s elegant script filled page after page.

I read about the offshore accounts, the diverted tithes, the years of hidden wealth. Then, the entries took a chilling turn. Samuel. He had discovered her foreign bank accounts, had threatened to go to the authorities. He had believed the Covenant was pure.

My breath hitched. The diaries described her fear, her calculated decision. The autopsy reports confirmed it: digitalis. A powerful heart medication. Administered in fatal doses. Abigail had personally poisoned Samuel.

Then, the final, horrifying twist. She had named me in her will. Not out of kindness, not out of love. But to transfer the tax liability onto me. To make me an unwitting shield against the federal investigators she knew would eventually come.

Mother Abigail, the frail matriarch, the saintly woman I thought Ezekiel had controlled, was the ruthless financial architect. And Samuel, my Samuel, had died because he tried to expose her.