Three Times a Lady

Chapter 42

Father Lance Middleton’s high-pitched scream of agony echoed throughout the marble-tiled confines of Ascension Catholic Church.

From her position in the rear of the building, Dana’s heart leapt up into her throat. Instinctively, she sprang to her feet and bolted down the main aisle toward the source of the noise. Most people ran away from trouble. Thanks to her years of training with the FBI, though – training on which Dana had turned her back until just this very morning – she ran toward it.

Coming to a panting stop outside the doors of the sanctuary, Dana’s hand automatically went for her Glock before she suddenly realised she’d left it back home at her vacation rental. After all, loaded guns didn’t exactly make for acceptable accessories in places of worship. As a result, her Glock was still locked away in a fireproof metal box a mile away on Indian Bayou Avenue.

Dana took in a deep breath through her nostrils and willed herself to calm down. Unarmed or not, she was going in. Her job demanded it. She was an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, for Christ’s sake – no matter how confused about that she’d been before.

Dana pushed open the door and stepped inside. Ten feet away, the priest lay on the floor surrounded by a rapidly expanding pool of blood. Middleton looked up at Dana with pleading eyes filled with terror. Only the top portion of a metal crucifix remained visible in the right side of his neck.

The kindly old man tried to speak, but no words came out. Reaching up with a trembling hand, he pulled out the crucifix from his neck before Dana had a chance stop him. Blood coated his fingers as he let the crucifix fall to the floor beside him in an eerie cacophony of jangling metal.

Dana winced, knowing that the crucifix had been the only thing keeping Middleton alive. But what could she do about it now? Stick it back in his neck? Still, without the crucifix to staunch the flow of blood, the red pulsed out even faster from Middleton’s throat with every beat of his badly labouring heart. Finally, the priest’s face went ghostly white. A moment later, his eyeballs rolled up into the back of his head and he stopped breathing altogether.

The sudden voice that sounded directly behind Dana nearly caused her to jump right out of her skin. Her heart triple-pumped in her chest, slamming hard against her ribcage.

‘Should I call 9-1-1?’

Dana whirled around to see the altar boy from ten minutes earlier. Tears filled his glistening blue eyes.

Closing her own eyes, Dana shook her head sadly.

No, she thought. You should call a priest.