Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Mom purses her lips. Though at least she keeps quiet the rest of the drive. I arrive at Saint Matthew’s fifteen minutes before mass starts. Father Preston is already at the door, all smiles and handshakes, greeting the early congregants as they arrive. I pull to the curb and shift the car into park.
“Would you like me to help you out, or are you just going to smack my hand away again?”
Mom ignores me and reaches for the door handle. Considering she was almost dead only a week ago, she really has a good amount of pep in her step when she wants to. She disappears inside the church. I sit watching the locals gather, dressed in their Sunday best. After a few minutes, I grow bored and start to fiddle with my phone—at least until a family crossing the street catches my attention.
Ivy. A child holds each of her hands—boy with a collared dress shirt on one side, girl in a blue dress on the other. Seven or eight years old, at best. I know there must be one younger, too, because she bought diapers that time I saw her, but there is no baby today. The man next to her must be her husband. He’s wearing a suit, but I can still tell the shirt underneath is too tight. His potbelly is testing the limits of some bulging buttons. Church could be dangerous today—a parishioner might lose an eye. Behind them trails a third child, a teenage boy looking down at whatever gaming device is in his hands. He doesn’t even look up as they cross the street, same as every Gen Z with a cell phone on the streets of Manhattan.
Father Preston’s face lights up as they approach.
Looks trustworthy, doesn’t he?
A man who will lull you into telling him anything. My mother. Ivy.
I tap my fingernails on the steering wheel as I watch. But what does he do with it?
I’m still tossing that question around when Ivy and her family disappear inside. Right behind them is a man I didn’t even notice coming. Chief Unger. Dressed in his uniform. He nods at the priest and walks on in. A few minutes later, a man I don’t expect turns up.
Noah.
He’s shoulder to shoulder with Little Miss Sundress from the other night. Her blond hair is pulled back, and the sundress is pink today, but it’s definitely her. Noah says something and she laughs, grabbing his bicep as they cross the street. Minnie? Was that her name? No, Ginny. Definitely Ginny.
“She’s just a friend,” he said.
They reach the door, and Noah’s hand goes to the small of her back in a familiar way. Looks like more than friendship to me.
Another few minutes go by. Father Preston waits for a family jogging to the door before he reaches up, releases the mechanism holding the door open, and begins to shut it. As he does, he looks around once more for stragglers. But his eyes catch mine. He nods and waits. When I don’t offer anything in return, he frowns and disappears inside.
I stare at the closed door for a long time. The entire cast of characters is at church today, isn’t it? My mother, Ivy, Father Preston, Chief Unger, Noah. There’s a niggle, reminding me there’s another person, too—one who might not be a suspect, but her presence irks me in a different way. Noah’s companion. We’re just friends.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, remembering the way I did that to Noah last night, right before sinking my teeth in. He liked it, said I was different from the women from these parts. I can’t help but wonder if Little Miss Sundress does things like that for him.
My mind bounces around among all the people I’ve seen in the last ten minutes . . . so many questions, so few answers.
What does Father Preston know?
Did I start Noah’s engine running and Little Miss Sundress got the ride?
Why is Chief Unger so many places that I am?
How does he always appear without me seeing him approach?
Will Ivy’s husband’s buttons give way? And who watches the child still in diapers when they all come here?
Curiosity gets the best of me, and before I can think it through, I’m turning off the ignition, getting out of the car, and opening the door to the church.
Inside, I slip into the empty back row. My eyes scan the pews one by one.
Noah sits the closest to me. Eight rows from the rear, last seat from the aisle, Blondie sitting dutifully beside him. I briefly wonder again if she might be his ex, the one who wanted marriage and kids, even though he said she was just a friend. She looks like the type. Noah’s arm is stretched out along the back of the pew behind her, but his hand isn’t touching her shoulder.