The Road to Solace (Sample Chapters Only)

Chapter 1

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Please . . . please, help me."

Kneeling at the altar of the small chapel, he stared up at the huge wooden crucifix and prayed everything had been a nightmare—a horrible, reversible nightmare. Holy water dripped from his hands and trailed back to the baptismal font where he'd been trying to cleanse the invisible blood from his skin for the past four hours. However, it was useless—his flesh and his soul were stained and would be forever more.

The silence in the centuries-old stone church was louder than anything he'd ever experienced. It permeated his thoughts. He was drowning in wave after wave of remorse and despair. Of evil and horror.

They were coming for him. Why it hadn't happened yet, he wasn't sure—but they would come looking for him soon. Seconds had given way to minutes in his mind. Minutes had become hours.

Why, Father? Why was I there? Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you stop me?

His heavy head hung low as he clasped his hands together, extending toward the bronze figure suspended on the wooden cross by metal stakes driven into the hands and feet. His knees ached from the cold, hard floor, but he refused to stand. He deserved the pain and so much more for what he'd done.

At thirty-four, almost his entire adult life had been dedicated to serving the Lord. His faith was the one thing which he'd found comfort in, but today that faith had been tested and he'd failed miserably. The devil inside him had taken over his mind, body, and yes, his soul. It didn't matter that the evil had been in response to an even greater evil. One which had no remorse. One which had harmed an innocent child.

Burning tears blurred his vision and rolled down his cheeks before falling to the floor to mix with the small puddles on the granite tile. "I'm sorry, Father. Please help me. Tell me what I must do."

His life as he'd known it was over. Part of him wanted to run and hide, but that went against his morals . . . his code of ethics. Despite everything that had happened earlier in the day, he still had them and would abide by them. He would take whatever punishment and penance he faced—with the courts and with the Holy Father. And maybe someday he would receive His forgiveness.

The scraping and clanking of the large wood and iron doors at the rear of the church told him his time was up. They had finally come for him. He fought the urge to flee. Multiple footsteps approached as, out of the corner of his eye to his left, he saw a uniformed officer emerge from the sacristy. The side door to his right, leading to the parking lot, opened and another officer filled the entryway. They were covering every exit. Didn't they know he would go willingly? That he wouldn't fight what he deserved?

The purposeful footsteps stopped several feet behind him, and he waited, holding on to his last moments of freedom.

"Adam."

He winced at the sound of his name spoken so softly. He should have known Shane Stewart would come for him. The man was the only person left in the world whom he considered to be family. While they weren't blood related, they'd spent their formative teenage years in the same foster home and remained close as their lives had led them in different directions. And now, they were on opposite sides of the law.

Adam touched his fingers to his forehead, heart, left shoulder, and then the right. Praying for strength and guidance, he slowly stood and turned around. His best friend was accompanied by another plainclothes detective and two uniformed officers—six men in total had come for him. He ignored the others as his gaze meet Shane's. The pain, regret, and sadness he saw there were almost unbearable. "I'm sorry, my friend."

When Shane didn't say or do anything, his partner stepped forward and pulled a pair of shiny, metal handcuffs from his sports jacket. As the man rounded behind him, Adam placed his hands at his lower back, his brown eyes never leaving his friend's sad, green ones.