Two Mothers Taken
Chapter 08 - Two Mothers Taken
The address on the back of the envelope led to St. Jude's, an abandoned church wedged between a pawnshop and a shuttered bakery.
Preston had chosen ruined ground because he thought ruined people belonged there.
Kate stood across the street with a microphone taped under Damon’s coat and a tracker hidden in her shoe.
"Last chance to let us breach first," Adrian said.
"No," Kate answered.
Damon watched her face.
He looked like a man being asked to swallow glass and call it strategy.
"He wants you scared," he said.
"He broke the wrong arm then."
Adrian muttered, "Definitely like her."
Damon ignored him.
Kate stepped closer.
"If you come in too soon, he hurts them. If you come in too late, I will haunt you personally."
"Comforting."
"I'm under stress."
For half a second, Damon almost smiled.
Then he leaned close enough that only she could hear.
"You are not bait."
"Tonight I am whatever gets them out alive. Tomorrow we can discuss vocabulary."
He looked at her as if she had become a kind of trouble he did not know how to command.
Good.
Kate walked into the church alone.
Inside, dust floated through broken light. Margaret and Lila were tied to chairs beneath a statue of Mary missing one hand. Preston stood behind them with a gun and the pale sweat of a coward who had mistaken fear for power.
"You came," he said.
"You invited me."
"Where is the contract?"
"Somewhere safe."
He laughed.
"There is no safe place for women like you."
Kate looked at her mothers.
Margaret was pale but conscious. Lila had blood at her temple and rage in her eyes.
"That's where you're wrong," Kate said.
Preston stepped closer.
"Do you know what you are? A paperwork problem. My father said so when you were a baby. My whole life, I have watched adults clean up messes. You were just another mess."
Kate's fear changed shape.
It became cold.
"My father died because he refused to clean up yours."
Preston lifted the gun.
Outside, Damon heard everything through the earpiece.
His hand tightened around his weapon.
Agent Marsh held up two fingers.
Wait.
He hated waiting.
Waiting had buried his brother. Waiting had taught his mother silence. Waiting had left Kate alone in a storage room with a broken arm.
But Kate had asked him for trust, not rescue.
So Damon Blackwell, who had never been good at mercy or patience, waited.
Inside, Kate watched Preston's injured hand tremble.
"Your father isn't coming," she said.
His mouth twitched.
"He always comes."
"No. He sends lawyers. Drivers. doctors. men with flowers. He sends everyone but himself."
Preston's eyes filled with something uglier than grief.
"Shut up."
"He protected you because you were useful. Not because he loved you."
The words struck.
Preston swung the gun toward Margaret.
Kate moved.
She grabbed a brass candle stand with her good hand and knocked it into his bandaged wrist.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Damon came through the side door before the plaster fell.
Adrian came through the rear.
Agent Marsh came down the aisle with federal agents behind her.
Preston hit the floor under Damon’s knee, screaming threats that no longer belonged to a world listening.
Kate cut Margaret free with shaking fingers.
Lila pressed her forehead against Kate's shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry," over and over until the words became weather.
Kate did not forgive her.
Not yet.
But she did not pull away.
Then Preston's phone rang on the floor.
Unknown caller.
Damon answered on speaker.
A man's voice, old and amused, filled the ruined church.
"Is the girl ready to sign?"
Damon went completely still.
Kate looked at him.
"Who is that?"
The voice continued.
"Tell Damon his father says hello."
May you like
Silas Blackwell was supposed to be dead.
The church became colder than any grave.
