Chapter 6 - ST. ANNE’S
St. Anne’s smelled exactly as I remembered.
Wax.
Dust.
Old wood.
Rain had started outside, melting dirty snow along the Brooklyn sidewalk.
I entered alone.
At least, that was what Margaret believed.
Victor’s people were hidden across the neighborhood.
Gabriel was inside the building next door.
Victor was somewhere I couldn’t see.
I carried the cassette tape in my coat.
The real locket rested against my chest.
“Margaret?”
My voice echoed.
A woman stepped from behind the altar.
Silver-blond hair.
Pearls.
Perfect posture.
She looked like someone’s wealthy grandmother.
Not a murderer.
“Hannah.”
I hated the way she said my name.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
Margaret smiled.
“You have Elena’s temper.”
“You murdered Elena.”
Her smile disappeared.
“She murdered herself.”
I moved forward.
“Where is Lily?”
“Give me the recording.”
“Baby first.”
Margaret laughed.
“You think you control this?”
“I think if Lily is already dead, you have no reason to keep me alive.”
Her eyes sharpened.
I continued.
“So show me.”
A door opened near the confessional.
Michael walked out.
He held Lily.
My body nearly collapsed from relief.
She was awake.
Crying.
But alive.
“Mommy’s here!”
Lily reached for me.
Michael tightened his grip.
“Stay.”
I looked at the man I once loved.
“How could you?”
His expression barely changed.
“Nothing personal.”
“You lived with me.”
“Yes.”
“You felt her kick.”
He glanced at Lily.
“I did.”
“You built her crib.”
“I had a job.”
The cruelty of those words hurt more than if he had shouted.
“You never loved me.”
Michael hesitated.
That tiny hesitation was worse.
“Not enough.”
I wanted to kill him.
Margaret extended her hand.
“The tape.”
“Why?”
“It tells us where the archive is.”
“It says this church.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you need it?”
Margaret smiled.
“Because Elena never trusted one clue.”
I looked around.
The baptismal font.
The stained-glass windows.
The old statue of Mary.
“What happened here?”
Margaret’s eyes followed mine.
“Your mother hid something.”
“What?”
“Salvatore’s ledger.”
My pulse jumped.
The physical ledger.
Not just access codes.
Names.
Evidence.
Margaret wanted it destroyed.
“You’re in the archive.”
She smiled.
“Smart girl.”
“What did you do?”
Her face hardened.
“What was necessary.”
“To protect your family?”
“To protect everything.”
“People?”
“Institutions.”
I laughed.
“Rich people always have impressive words for terrible things.”
Michael almost smiled.
Margaret glared at him.
Then she looked back at me.
“Your mother thought truth was sacred.”
“She was right.”
“No. Truth is a weapon. Only fools leave weapons where anyone can pick them up.”
Lily cried.
I took a step.
Michael raised his weapon.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
“Give me my daughter.”
“The tape.”
I removed it slowly.
Margaret held out her hand.
I threw it across the aisle.
She caught it.
Then smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Lily.”
Margaret nodded at Michael.
He began walking toward me.
I reached for my baby.
Then gunfire exploded from the back of the church.
Victor’s men.
Michael turned.
I grabbed Lily.
He tried to hold on.
I bit his hand.
Hard.
He cursed.
Lily fell toward me.
I caught her.
Victor appeared behind a pillar.
“Down!”
I dropped.
Shots cracked above us.
Margaret ran toward the altar.
Gabriel entered through the side door.
He tackled Michael.
The two men crashed into a pew.
I crawled behind the baptismal font with Lily.
She screamed against my chest.
“I’ve got you.”
Victor fired toward the balcony.
A shooter fell.
Margaret reached the back corridor.
I saw her.
“Victor!”
He turned.
Too late.
She disappeared.
Gabriel punched Michael.
Michael kicked him away and reached for a gun.
I screamed.
Victor fired.
The bullet struck Michael’s shoulder.
He fell.
Victor approached.
Michael laughed through pain.
“You still shoot badly.”
Victor stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
Michael smiled.
“Just like Anthony.”
The church became silent.
Victor stared.
“How do you know my brother?”
Michael spat blood.
“Because he raised me.”
Gabriel looked up.
“What?”
Michael laughed.
“You people think this is about Dominic Valenti?”
Victor crouched.
“Where is Anthony?”
Michael smiled.
“Closer than you think.”
Then the stained-glass window exploded.
A bullet hit Michael in the chest.
He fell backward.
Sniper.
Victor’s men rushed outside.
Michael gasped.
Blood spread across his shirt.
I looked away, shielding Lily.
Gabriel knelt beside him.
“Who shot you?”
Michael laughed weakly.
“The same man who started all of this.”
“Anthony?”
Michael’s eyes moved toward me.
“No.”
His breathing broke.
“Hannah’s father.”
My heart stopped.
“My father is dead.”
Michael smiled.
“Thomas Reed.”
Then he died.
I stared at the body.
“No.”
Victor looked as shaken as I felt.
“Thomas died.”
Gabriel stood.
“Did you see the body?”
Victor said nothing.
Gabriel laughed bitterly.
“Of course not.”
My legs weakened.
Thomas Reed.
My father.
The gentle man who carried me on his shoulders.
Who made pancakes shaped like hearts.
Who supposedly died when I was three.
Alive?
Impossible.
Then the church bell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Gabriel looked upward.
“No one rings that manually anymore.”
Victor raised his weapon.
A hidden door opened behind the altar.
An elderly priest stepped out.
He stared at me.
“Hannah Reed?”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I’ve been waiting twenty-three years for you.”
He reached into his robe and pulled out a small metal box.
“Your mother left this.”
Victor stepped forward.
The priest shook his head.
“Only Hannah.”
I approached.
Inside the box was a photograph.
My mother.
Gabriel as a toddler.
Me as a baby.
And Thomas Reed.
On the back, my mother had written:
Our children must never know which father betrayed them.
I looked at Victor.
May you like
Gabriel looked at me.
And suddenly, neither of us knew whose child we truly were.
