The Wages of Sin a Rick Stone caper: Rick Stone, #3

By Kurt Maxwell

1981, Newark Beach, Florida. A young woman is lucky that Rick Stone is so often in the wrong place at the right time. Especially when she becomes a pawn in Elijah Fray's plan to accelerate his destiny. This is a tale of taking prophesy a little too far.

 

So have some fun the next time your waiting around for that cop or you're stuck in the 6000 item or less line and check out this short, funny adventure. Buy a copy of The Wages of Sin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gilbert Publishing
• Release date: May 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393058489

Book preview

The Wages of Sin a Rick Stone caper

Rick Stone, Volume 3

Kurt Maxwell

Published by Gilbert Publishing, 2020.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE WAGES OF SIN A RICK STONE CAPER

First edition. May 6, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 Kurt Maxwell.

ISBN: 978-1393058489

Written by Kurt Maxwell.

Also by Kurt Maxwell

Rick Stone

A Heavenly Cause: a Rick Stone Caper

A Touch of Blue a Rick Stone Caper

The Wages of Sin a Rick Stone caper

The Heat of Winter

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

The Wages of Sin a Rick Stone caper

Further Reading: A Heavenly Cause: a Rick Stone Caper

Also By Kurt Maxwell

The middle-aged man in the brown two-piece nodded and muttered a reply into the phone. Most of the office was lost to the gloom extending beyond the dull glow of the small desk lamp. A balding, slightly shorter man in a black suit stood looking out the window as snowflakes winked in and out of the yellow light thrown up from the courtyard below.

I understand. The man in brown said. Your certain?

He listened for a moment before continuing, then said, I don’t know. That’s up to Pastor Helm.

After a few more moments he set the receiver back in its cradle. He blew out a puff of air before walking over and standing beside the man in the black suit. He followed his gaze out to Interstate 29. A ribbon of yellow lights bobbed north from Washington while a stream of red crawled south. He thinks Fray is following through with his crazy plan. He says the old man won’t even talk to him anymore. That he spends all his time confiding in some big guy.

For a few moments the President of the General Conference didn’t reply. When he spoke his voice had an airy tiredness. I thought Peterson had it under control.

I don’t think he does, not anymore. Fray is old and desperate; he knows he doesn’t have much time left.

The man staring out the window sighed. I’m sad to say, Johnson, that I was hoping he’d die sooner than this.

It always seems to be the case that the wrong one’s cling to life the longest.

Pastor Helm looked down and then sideways at his deacon. We can’t afford to wait. If Peterson is no longer in control of the situation, we simply can’t take the chance. Make the call. The church is too important to suffer the damage of one man’s delusions. If Peterson can no longer contain him, it is up to us.

The man in the brown suit nodded, turned and walked back to the desk. He reached over, picked up the phone and punched in ten digits.

Two rings later, someone 900 miles south picked up the phone. Garson.

It’s Deacon Johnson.

Sir?

It’s time.

"It’s past