Letters to Maxine

CHAPTER 48

Danse Macabre

Saint Gabriel's 22:00 Hours

Church Sanctuary

Anxiety overcame Maxine as they walked through the hulking red ornate doors. As they passed beneath, they entered the massive wood and marble vestibule. Kelly quick stepped, bypassing the shrine of the Virgin Mary and the large gold basin that held the holy water.

He held Father Moritz responsible for the Durkin girl's suicide, harboring a deep suspicion and intense anger towards him. Despite viewing the father as a gentle old man, Maxine couldn't ignore the possibility of a volatile confrontation.

Four modern doors, with a rectangle of glass inlaid above the turn handles, were before them. Only one door, offset center to the left, was open.

Maxine followed Kelly into the sanctuary, where he stopped at the foot of the aisle. It overlooked twenty-six rows of oak pews lined with scarlet cushions and hassocks. Each row had hymnals and the Catholic bible in the left-hand corner of each pew, with a spot for a small pencil and offering envelopes.

When entering a house of worship, etiquette warranted respect by speaking in soft voices, muting portable devices, and tiptoeing. However, Kelly wasn't having it. He stomped down the aisle, disturbing several partitioners praying, kneeling, or saying their rosary. He turned the portable to the max volume, allowing its echo to bounce off the thirty-foot marble walls.

"Do you see him?" he asked.

Maxine looked for the confessional among the statues, scarlet curtains, and shrines lit with dozens of prayer candles. When she found it, she took Kelly by the arm but hesitated.

The news that Marcus Blackwood was not at the address given by the FBI database frustrated him and put him on edge. That meant X-4 was in the wind and angrier than before. Despite her deep love and admiration for Kelly, she couldn't help but observe how he allowed this to become personal.

The surrounding air grew heavy with tension, their once harmonious connection now suffused with an unspoken unease.

The sight of his furrowed brow and clenched fists hinted at his escalating emotions, while the sound of the partitioners' hushed voices flooded the sanctuary with an undercurrent of strain.

She couldn't deny the growing heaviness in her heart as she feared he'd unravel before her eyes.

Kelly embodied the role of protector, a quality that Maxine cherished, but she fretted that it teetered on the line of obsession.

"It's right there. Front right corner," she whispered. She clutched his hand, pleading with her eyes. And right then, she saw the chilling sight she'd been warned of, causing a lump in her throat.

She saw the fear. Not so much on his face, but she felt the shattered fragments of his spirit and the seething anger that consumed him with a malevolent darkness. The intensity of his desire for revenge was palpable, as if this ongoing feud ran deep within him, flowing through his veins like boiling, pulsing blood.

"Sweetie," she said, her voice gentle and hushed. "Maybe we should come back tomorrow. You know, let's get a drink or go to the Boulevard to get you a cigar. We can spend the night on the beach or something."

Kelly looked at her with narrowed eyes and brows pinned toward his nose. He pulled up his belt, one hand on his gun and the other on his portable, before tucking the back of his shirt into his pants.

"Moritz now and cigars later. Okay? Something's not right here, Max. I can feel it."

Kelly gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw before shouting.