“That makes sense,” Jane said. “I saw your ad. I’m Jane Gardner and I live over on Swamp Road, but there isn’t any swamp there. I live right across from the big Baptist church, or what used to be one and is now a kind of dollar store.” Henry became rigid as stone. “The one where the preacher and his organist were caught fucking in a SUV in the rear parking lot?” Jane’s cheeks flushed red. “That’s the one.” “That bastard and that goddamn skank.” Henry’s comment embarrassed Jane a little, because she had been the fuckee, though she wasn’t an organist, just a church goer. She never corrected the
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