My blood runs cold. “What?”
“I was locking up after choir practice. I saw movement in the shadows near the building.” He runs his hand through his golden hair, messing the perfect waves. “I called out, and they ran. I chased them to the parking lot, but?—”
“Gray sedan?” I interrupt.
Elijah’s eyes snap to mine. “How did you know?”
I tell him everything. The man with the camera. The multiple sightings. How Marcus dismissed my concerns. Elijah’s face darkens with each word, and when I finish he pulls me close.
“You should have told us,” he murmurs against my hair. “We would have believed you.”
“I thought I was being paranoid.”
“You weren’t.” His arms tighten around me. “Someone is watching us. And we need to tell Adrian and Marcus.”
Friday morning, I’m in my apartment above the rectory when my phone buzzes with a text from Adrian.
My office. Immediately.
My stomach drops as I hurry downstairs.
Marcus and Elijah are already there when I arrive, their faces grim.
Adrian sits at his desk, staring at his computer screen with an expression that makes my breath stop.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Adrian turns the monitor so I can see. An email from an untraceable address. No text. Just three attached photos.
The church exterior at different times of day, each shot professional and deliberate.
The angles are calculated, the lighting perfect. These aren’t amateur snapshots—they’re surveillance.
The final image makes my breath catch again. It shows me entering the rectory through the back door, my hair mussed, wearing Marcus’s shirt. The timestamp reads two nights ago.
Below the photos, a single line:Nice property. Shame if something happened to its reputation.
13
CHARLIE
The hospital room smells like antiseptic and wilted flowers, but Grandma Rose’s smile makes everything else fade away.
She’s propped up against pillows, her silver-white hair freshly brushed, and there’s color in her cheeks I haven’t seen since before the stroke.
“They’re saying I might go home soon, baby girl.” Her voice is stronger now, though her left side still doesn’t move quite right. “Can you believe it?”
I squeeze her hand three times.I love you.Our secret code. She squeezes back twice, the best she can manage with her weakened grip, but I feel the intention behind it.
“I can believe it.” My throat tightens with emotion. “You’re too stubborn to stay down for long.”
She laughs, the sound raspy but genuine. “Take after my granddaughter, I suppose.” Her faded hazel eyes study my face with unnerving perception. “Speaking of which, how’s that volunteer work going at St. Michael’s? Father Cross treating you well?”
Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it. I busy myself adjusting her blanket, avoiding her gaze. “It’s fine. Good. Everyone’s been very…kind.”
“Kind.” She draws the word out, suspicious. “That’s an interesting choice of word.”
“What other word would I use?”
