Second Honeymoon

Chapter 103

I TOOK ONE side; Sarah took the other. We had become a good team in a very short time, but this seemed like an impossible test.

With our backs pressed against the faded red brick facade of Saint Alexander’s, we each reached over and grabbed one of the double front doors, pulling them back slowly.

The initial fear I had came and went. Martha Cole wasn’t shooting on first movement.

After a few seconds, Sarah called out to the killer. “Martha, are you in there?”

The crowd noise down on the street made it hard to hear, but I was pretty sure there was no response. Sarah tried again, louder this time.

“Martha, it’s Agent Brubaker and Agent O’Hara,” she said. “Can we come inside?”

Cole answered this time, her voice echoing out to us. She was deep inside the church. “It better be just the two of you,” she warned.

“It is, Martha,” Sarah yelled back. “I give you my word.”

She didn’t ask us to come in unarmed—not that we were about to comply with such a request. Or so I thought.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked Sarah, who was tucking away her gun.

“She trusts me,” she said. “I have to trust her back.”

“That’s not the same girl who was crying on your shoulder this morning,” I said. “That was an act.”

“We’ll see. Trust me a little on this.”

“Okay, but we go in at the same time,” I said.

“Nah. Ladies first.”

Before I could say or do anything else, Sarah stepped out from behind the door, her hands raised in the air. If there’s a fine line between brave and stupid, Sarah had bridged it. She now had dual passports. I was so mad I could shoot her—if Martha Cole didn’t do it first.

She didn’t.

I stepped out, joining Sarah at the entrance to the church. Looking all the way down the aisle, I could see Cole standing at the altar, her arm outstretched to the side. She had her gun pressed directly against Father Reese’s head.

Slowly, very slowly, we walked toward them.

“That’s far enough!” shouted Cole.

Sarah and I stopped. We were about twenty pews back from the altar. Definitely in range, but not an easy shot.

“Martha, just let us get a little closer so we don’t have to shout to one another,” said Sarah. “The echo in here makes it very hard to talk. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Cole laughed. “Who said we were talking?”

“Why are we in here, then?” asked Sarah. “What do you want from us?”

“Soon enough,” she said. “Now have a seat.”

There was no point pressing the issue. I took a step to my right and was about to slide into the pew.

“NO!” Cole screamed. “NO, NO, NO!”

I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong, but whatever it was I wasn’t going to keep doing it. I froze right where I was, didn’t move a muscle.

Sarah, who still hadn’t made a move to sit, raised her palms. “Whoa, whoa!” she said. “Martha, what’s wrong?”

“That’s the groom’s side,” said Cole angrily. “You need to sit on the left…the bride’s side. I’m the one who invited you.”

Oh. As in, Oh, shit, this doesn’t bode well.