I knew Kade Miller’s slanting handwriting at once, sitting right beside the sharp cursive of Arthur Vance.

“Read the second paragraph,” Wade said, watching my eyes travel down the page.

We went into the rectory study and sat down at my desk, leaving the door ajar so warm air from the hallway radiator could drift in.

I spread the three sheets out on my desk blotter, weighing the yellowed paper flat with my heavy leather concordance.

Wade leaned over the desk and put his index finger on the third line of text.

“Read that clause out loud, Tom,” Wade said.