Minerva and Alice came back. The glow in their eyes was refreshing. “Were you able to find out anything about the boyfriend?” I asked Minerva.
“From what I can tell, he got some basketball scholarship to Harvard. Nothing else comes up. The principal of the school is supposed to call me back but nothing so far”. Her cell phone rang, “Oh, this must be him.” She answered the call, sidling away to better hear her caller.
I turned my attention to the social worker. “What have you got?”
“I’ve traced down her family.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t look promising. The dad’s an accountant, mother doesn’t work. They belong to some religious organization I’ve never heard of—New Order of Christian Saints.”
I nodded. I’d heard of them before. They’d been under scrutiny by all the large denominations, but had never done anything wrong—at least not that they had gotten caught for. I assumed it was because they were so quiet and kept to themselves. Now I wondered if the father’s fanaticism was based on his own personal thoughts, or was it a calling of his religion. “Dig up what you can on the church,” I said.
“Shall I contact the parents?”
I was stuck in a dilemma here. My conversations with Abby were, as a pastor, technically considered confidential. However, I had an obligation to Abby, and my profession, to get her as much help as possible—thus protecting my right to break my oath. However, I was gambling on the fact that Abby didn’t really want to take her own life, or that of her baby’s. I shook my head. “No parents. They seem to be the root of the problem here.”
Minerva came back looking excited. “The baby-daddy’s name—that’s what they call it these days,” she said looking proud and cocky that she knew one of the teenagers’ terms. “His name is Jimmy Martinez. He’s a freshman at Harvard. He’s studying pre-med on a basketball scholarship.”
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