I. The Man With Two Crosses

At around five in the evening a night later, a man walked into the town of Points Corners, Kansas. He wore a faded green trench coat with a captain's insignia beneath beneath a dull red cross. Another cross, this one made of silver, hung around his neck. He wore a preacher's collar at his neck and a Colt 1911 .45 caliber at his belt. He had a pale, broad brimmed cap on his head with long, light brown hair coming out from beneath, streaked with gray. He looked to be about forty-five, fifty on the outside. He carried a big corduroy bag around his neck by one strap--the same color as his coat--but didn't seem to mind.

A light drizzle was falling as he walked down Main Street (actually still Route 66, but the locals called it Main Street). He looked up and down the road, and walked up the steps to the police station and up to the front desk.

"Evening, officer." he said. His voice was deep and throaty, cured to perfection by years of smoking.

"Good evening, Father." said the officer on duty, noticing the cross and the collar.

"Reverend, Officer." said the stranger. The officer noticed the name "Hathorne" stitched into the man's coat on the left breast.

"Apologies, Reverend. What can I do for you?"

"I just got into town off 66, coming out of the east. There's a nasty wreck back there, three, maybe four miles out of town. Somebody's rig went clean off the road, through maybe thirty feet of brush before it tipped over. It's a downhill skid with lots of overgrowth, so I don't think it'd be noticeable for anybody who's not on foot. Just figured I'd check if you folks had a report of it yet."

The officer's eyebrow rose. "No, actually. We ain't heard about that. Anybody injured?"
"I don't know. The thing tipped at some point, driver's side down, so the Lord only knows if anyone's inside. If you got a car to spare, I can go show you the spot before it gets dark."

"I think that'd be a good idea, Reverend. Come with me. By the way, the name's O'Malley."