“Glenn, stop her!”

No one stopped me.

I kept my eyes on the very last row of pews, right beside the wooden hat rack under the balcony.

A woman rose out of the shadow by the back wall.

She had on a tailored navy suit with a little silver pin on the left lapel, and her dark hair was pinned back neatly at the nape of her neck.

She held a folded sheet of newsprint in her right hand, creased straight down the middle of the column where the Tyler obituary had run that morning.