“This is Collins,” came the reply.
“Jack, I’m checking a lead on a potential suspect in the Naismith abduction. It might be nothing, but if you don’t hear back from me in fifteen minutes, send a backup unit to the old St. Mary’s west of town, by the river.”
“Shouldn’t you be calling the Feds on this one?” Collins asked.
Manny paused and stared at Maureen, tilting his head before continuing. “Looks like I hit a dead spot and don’t have any service for my phone. You’ll have to pass it along for me if you need to call in that backup. I’m clear.” He hung up the radio and said to her, “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”
The night hung close around them, and without the truck’s headlights to guide them, they had to feel their way along the grass and gravel with their feet. The shadow of the church greeted them as they ran the last few yards to its side. There were few windows in the old building, and those that were there were leaded. They couldn’t see in. Maureen took a step back and scanned the entire building. Now adjusted to the dark, she could detect a faint flickering light emanating from one of the square windows near the back of the church.
Candles, she thought.
Manny must have seen them too, because he laid a hand on her elbow and guided her in the direction of the rear of the church. “There’s got to be a back door,” he whispered. “It’s probably our best way in.”
Maureen nodded and followed along silently, keeping as low as he did to avoid their heads casting any shadows across the window. They rounded the corner and continued to creep along the back side of the church, searching for a rear door. They didn’t find one on the back of the building, but as they rounded the opposite corner, they were confronted with three concrete steps leading up to a landing and their way in.
Manny was first to the door, holding Maureen back with one hand as they took to the stairs. He stepped up and quietly tried the knob. Nothing.
“Locked,” he hissed, stepping back and appearing to contemplate for a moment. After a breath, he shrugged and reached into his holster to pull out his gun.
Maureen stepped to his side and put a hand on his, making him lower the weapon. “Let me have a look.”
In the dark she couldn’t make out his eyes very well, but was able to detect the movement of his head nodding his agreement. She moved in close to examine the door. It was a hollow, metal door, probably thirty years old or more. Her hand moved to the knob. It, too, was old, without an exterior keyhole that she could pick. She jiggled it as quietly as she could, noting how loose the latch bolt felt inside the plate.
“I think I can get this door open,” she said reaching behind her and opening her hand to him. “Hand me a credit card.”
There was a pause before Manny spoke. “How about my library card? It’s easier to replace.”
She felt the plastic rectangle hit her hand and tested it with both hands. It seemed strong enough. She slipped the card into the jamb above the bolt and felt her way down, working the knob as she did. It only took a few moments before the old lock gave way, and she was able to push the door open. The hallway that the door opened to was dark except for the dimmest of lights showing around a corner some thirty feet away. Maureen recognized the flicker. Candlelight. She edged forward but felt herself suddenly jerked back by the shoulder.
“Let me go first,” Manny’s voice rasped. He had his gun raised and moved past her into the hall, reaching back to grab her wrist and lead her. “Stay behind me and keep close.”
The candlelight they were heading toward offered no real light to go by, so they went slow, taking all the care they could not to let their footsteps fall too hard.
“You couldn’t have brought a flashlight?” Maureen grumbled in a low whisper as they felt their way along.
“Shush,” came Manny’s response from the darkness ahead.
They came to a doorway that led to the side of the altar. Manny stuck his head around just far enough to see out, but Maureen could not wait behind him any longer. The drive to finish it all overwhelmed her, and she bolted past Manny, around the corner, and into the candlelight. His surprised exclamation broke the eerie silence and resonated off the walls of the empty church. The sound made her freeze as she realized the foolishness of her action. To her surprise, there was no movement within the church. They were alone.
Maureen turned to Manny and beckoned him to join her. He cautiously crept to her side, and they continued forward into the nave. The lacquered, wooden altar ahead, on which the largest candle she had ever seen burned and served as the sole source of illumination, was surrounded by a pile of sticks and logs. Maureen’s eyes scanned the rest of the room in the dim light. From what she could make out, it was modestly decorated—as far as Catholic churches went. The pews were set in two rows and were made of the same wood as the altar. The altar itself was set on a short, raised platform of stone, surrounded by a simple wooden rail. The baptismal fount that Manny had mentioned sat off to their right. Even from the twelve or so paces that she stood from it, Maureen could see the candlelight flickering on the water inside of it.
She took two more steps toward the altar and looked to her left at the only visible sign of ostentatious décor in the place. A golden crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar with an ornately carved and polished image of
