CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Julia shut her car door and locked it. It had taken half the day to get everything packed. Clothes, bed sheets, pots, pans, toiletries, and shoes—lots and lots of shoes—filled her car. She tossed her keys, catching them as she walked toward her apartment building.
It was late—around a quarter to eleven. All she had to do now was wait for Conor.
She ran up the stairs to her apartment. Once inside, she looked around.
Her gaze stopped on the painting in the living room.
The beach. Sunlight filtering over the ocean horizon in a blaze of color.
Clouds filling with light. Waves rolling in.
The sea grass bending in the breeze. And Conor sitting shoulder to shoulder with her in the sand as daybreak fell over them.
A flush of excitement filled her. Her stuff was packed.
She’d called the property manager and ended her lease.
Her apartment was cleaned. But she still needed to move that painting into Conor’s apartment before they left.
It needed a few days to dry before she could stick it in her car.
She smiled, staring at the painting. It wouldn’t be long before that scene became reality. All she had to do was—
Crap. She’d forgotten something.
She walked into her bedroom and pulled a pen and a pad of paper from her nightstand. She sat on the floor and started writing.
Dear Father Salvatore,
A good friend is going on a trip and he asked me to come with him. We’re leaving tonight, so please have someone else cover my remaining shifts. I wish I could’ve given you more notice, but it was unexpected.
I also wanted to say thank you. With all your employees and the other people needing help in your parish, I know that someone like me can’t be high on your list of priorities, but you let me know I needed to find another job before you told the rest of the staff. I appreciate you trying to help me.
With Sacred Heart closing, I imagine you’ll be moving on to another parish. The people in your new church will be lucky to have you. Please remember me in your prayers. I’ll certainly remember you in mine. Thank you for everything.
Julia Terranova
She signed the letter and sealed it in an envelope, printing ‘Father Salvatore’ on the front. If she was going to drop this off at Sacred Heart, deposit her check at the ATM, and make it back before Conor got here, she had to get moving. She grabbed her purse and hurried out the door to her car.
Pulling to a stop at a red light, she looked into the rearview mirror and tucked her hair behind her ears.
A drop of sweat rolled down her back. The night hadn’t taken much edge off the heat.
The light turned green. Before she could accelerate, a motorcycle drove by in the left lane, followed by a van and an old SUV.
One street ahead, they cut left onto a side street.
The van’s headlights had lit up the motorcycle.
There was no mistaking it. The man on the bike was Conor.
She followed them but got hung up by oncoming traffic before she could turn.
By the time she was moving again, Conor’s caravan was blocks away, motoring up the hill toward Sacred Heart.
She watched them disappear down a side street.
A bad feeling settled in her chest. There was no reason for it, at least not a logical one, but still, there it was, filling her head with questions. Where was Conor going? Who was in that van and the SUV? What were they doing?
She pulled into the church parking lot. The engine ticked as she got out. She walked across the parking lot, holding the letter to Father Salvatore.
She fingered the envelope as she walked, thinking the best place to put it was inside the screen door of the rectory.
It was stifling hot, but the night was quiet.
She glanced up at a washed-out moon that slipped behind dark clouds threatening rain.
She quickened her steps, walking along the side of the church toward the rectory.
A figure darted across the far end of the walkway, disappearing around the back of the church.
Two more figures followed. She stopped, listening, then started walking again, entering the dim circle of light in front of the rectory’s front door.
She could knock and tell Father Salvatore she’d seen people sneaking around the church, but it was probably just kids.
She stuck the envelope in her pocket and kept walking.
Even if it was just kids, she wanted to take a look.
No one was in sight around back. She exhaled. It had to be kids. She turned to leave. A crack of splintering wood broke the silence.
As quietly as she could, she crept around the back of the church. Peeking around the corner, she watched three figures slip into the side door of the church.
She looked back toward the rectory. If she told Father Sal, he’d call the police. The image of Conor on his motorcycle filled her head. She walked to the door, running her hand over the splintered trim next to the door handle. She stepped inside, hearing low whispers.
A hazy light filtered over the altar, but it was enough to see Conor and two other men walk across the altar into the sacristy.
She followed them. Stopping outside the sacristy door, she peeked in.
Conor kneeled on the floor next to the safe.
Another man with dark wavy hair and a big man with short hair and a moustache stood over him, watching.
They were so focused that they didn’t notice her.
It only took a few seconds before she’d seen enough.
As she left, she let the church door bang shut behind her, not caring if Conor heard. It didn’t matter.
She pulled the envelope from her pocket as she walked toward the rectory. Conor was a thief. She looked at the envelope. She wasn’t going anywhere with Conor, but there was no need to write a different letter. This letter would tell Father Salvatore all he needed to know.
She was leaving town tonight.
She stuck the envelope inside the rectory’s screen door and walked to her car.
All the signs were there but she had somehow missed them.
Conor came from a broken family. Except for mentioning that he did some work as an auto mechanic, he never did tell her how he made a living.
He had time to take her for a ride around town in the middle of the week.
And all those weeks before she met him, he’d kept the weirdest hours.
Leaving at dark. Coming home late at night or in the morning.
As nice as he was, it was clear to her now.
He was a thief. A criminal. He was trouble—the last thing she was looking for.
Nothing but a good-looking, smooth-talking thief.
Wind rocked her car as she drove. Rain began to spit. According to the radio, a cold front was bringing a bad storm.
A flash of rain covered her windshield. She turned on her wipers and clicked off the radio, focusing on the road as she headed out of town, unsure of where she was going. It didn’t really matter. It just needed to be as far away from here as possible.
She wiped away tears of frustration and sadness, thinking it was funny how things changed so fast in life. Fifteen minutes ago, she looked forward to her future. And now all she could do was dread it. All because of Conor.
She drove by a sign that read, ’You are now leaving Brannigan. Come back soon!’
“Fat chance,” she mumbled, hoping with all her heart that Conor’s night would go just as badly as hers.
It was the least he deserved.