A door sits half-hidden behind a wooden panel.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Secret church architecture?”
“Old storm shelter,” she says.
“Farm towns used to build them under public buildings.”
“Useful.”
“Very.”
She opens the door quietly.
A narrow stairwell drops into darkness below.
At the same moment—
The front church door bursts open.
Voices echo through the sanctuary.
“Clear the room.”
Boots pound across the wooden floor.
At least six men.
Maybe more.
Mara freezes on the stairs.
Listening.
Her voice drops to a whisper.
“Too late.”
I glance back toward the sanctuary.
Shadows move across the pews.
Flashlights sweep the room.
They’re searching.
“Looking for you?” I whisper.
“Possibly.”
“That’s comforting.”
She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a compact pistol.
Which tells me everything I need to know about Mara.
“You armed?” she asks.
