CHAPTER 10: The Storm at St. Peter’s
Lightning split the night sky over the coast, illuminating the stained glass windows of St. Peter’s Parish in brilliant hues of crimson and sapphire.
Marcus jimmied open the heavy wooden rear door of the church office with a crowbar, the lock giving way with a sharp *crack*. Victoria rushed inside, her flashlight beam dancing erratically across rows of antique oak filing cabinets.
“Find 2017!” Victoria hissed, her voice panicked as thunder shook the old timbers. “Hurry!”
Marcus tore through the folders, tossing papers onto the floor. “Here! Vance, Eleanor and Clara—certified sealed registry!”
He pulled a lighter from his coat pocket, the spark illuminating his desperate face.
“Don't do that, Victoria.”
A voice cut through the shadows.
Victoria spun around, dropping her flashlight. Standing in the doorway of the sanctuary was Clara, accompanied by Father Thomas and two state troopers with flashlights trained directly on the intruders.
“It’s over,” Clara said quietly, showing no malice, only profound sadness. “You took my mother’s youth. You took my father’s peace. And now you’re breaking into a holy place to destroy a piece of paper?”
Victoria dropped the file, her hands shaking as the reality of handcuffs clicked around her wrists. “You were never supposed to exist,” Victoria wept into the rain.
May you like
“I do exist,” Clara answered. “And unlike you, I will never use my father's name to hurt anyone.”
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