Page 78 of On Your Knees

I stare at his phone for a long time after it goes black.

Ruby knows.

This—Paul’s murder—is what they were talking about that morning she came over, when she told Ethan he needed to come back to the church. She talked about “that night” and some church board members who were there.

They all know. They covered it up.

Why would they do that?

That morning, Ruby said something about protecting Ethan, but I don’t believe that for one second. And if she wasn’t protecting him, what was she protecting?

I pick up my own phone and return to the sitting room. I sit on the couch and start searching.

I find what I found before. Articles about Ethan’s adoption by Paul and Ruby. Articles about Paul’s death. Images of Ethan at various ages at the church. Footage too.

I dig deeper than last time, I dig beyond just Ethan, and I find something that makes my blood run cold. It’s a transcript of an interview with Ruby talking about Ethan’s adoption. The interviewer asks whether it’s true that Ethan’s biological mother died by suicide.

I’m frozen, staring at that.

Then my mind goes back. It’s only flashes because I don’t remember all of it clearly and I was mostly caught up in my own feelings. But I recall how cold Ethan went when he saw my arms, like it flipped some switch inside him. He got weird. He got scary. He brought me here, to the cellar.

My screen has gone black, so I wake up my phone and read Ruby’s reply that their mission is to save Ethan and put him on a path to God.

But the God of High Castle Church is so cruel. The sermon I watched was a weird mix of warning about every supposed sin and a promise of wealth for the righteous and faithful. It was uncomfortable to watch—and clearly impossible for Ethan to endure. He hasn’t been involved in the church for years, despite his continued contact with Ruby.

And Ruby… she’s more controlled than my mother was, but she doesn’t care about Ethan. It’s obvious in the interview, despite her words about saving him. Or because of those words. Like the only thing that needed help was his soul. Like she didn’t notice or care about him beyond that.

Everything is a set piece for the Castles, Ethan said. It was for show.

I look at all of it again. I look at it differently.

In the earliest picture of Ethan, he’s nine years old. The picture is a still from a video, so I watch it. Ethan is holding Paul’s hand as they walk out onto the stage of the church. Ethan is wearing a suit, and his dark hair is cut neat and short. His eyes are huge—and they’re completely empty.

He was quiet, he said, mostly nonverbal. He says nothing in the clip while Paul greets the congregation and introduces them to their newest member. This is greeted with applause. Ethan is still blank. Then Paul leans down and whispers something in his ear, and Ethan smiles. That’s what the still was. His smile. But it looks very, very different at the end of that clip.

As best I can, I look at things in chronological order. I find one actual, real smile when Ethan is eleven. But by the next year, his eyes are empty again. He’s better at smiling. He sings in the choir. He’s pretty convincing. But I can see it. I can see, too, that he watches Paul constantly. And Paul watches him.

Paul talks about sinful thoughts and repentance. He talks about purification. He talks about walking a righteous path. He’s compassionate in his sermons, like he knows the struggles of his listeners. He’s… fatherly.

So why did Ethan stab him six times? And what did he mean that it was during a session? A prayer session, he clarified. And why, if Ethan did that without justification, did Ruby cover it up? And not just Ruby. The church board.

Paul’s body was found in an alley. The articles say he was “ministering” to the poor when a homeless man, who was later found dead from a fall into a culvert, killed him.

I find pictures from the extravagant funeral. Ethan isn’t there. He isn’t in any more church pictures until the one from a few days ago. There are other pictures of him, though. Charity events. A few of him getting into or out of cars. Then there’s a picture I’ve already seen and have been avoiding. The one of Ethan kissing me that day after we left the church.

There’s no photographer identified and no article, but it’s all over social media with a wild fight in the comments. There’s condemnation. There’s support. There’s all kinds of speculation. Some about Ethan, some about me.

I drag myself away from it. I don’t want to see any of that. I don’t care. But I do care about Ruby’s statement. She told Ethan she would make one, and I find it easily.

It’s a video. She’s in an elegant, luxurious sitting room. She’s composed but has a serious, sad look on her face. She says that Ethan’s struggles with sin weigh on her heart but that she has faith that he’ll return to God. She says the fact that he came back to the church shows that he understands that homosexuality is a sin he must repent of. She says that she’s praying for him.

When I hear a car, I pop up and run to the window. My heart sinks when I see that it’s Patrick in the Mercedes.

By the time I reach the kitchen, Patrick is parking outside the garage. I meet him on the flagstone patio. His face is strained. He’s shaking his head before I can even ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I couldn’t find him. There’s no tracking on that car.”

“But…”