Fake Me To Church

Chapter 20.2 - Stepping on Graves

- AHMED -

I twisted to the right again, this time getting a clearer view of EdgeWay's personal sanitarium. Through the glass, I spotted her—Myra Gravestepper, standing with one hand on her hip while the other held a phone to her ear.

"Who is she talking to?" Irina mused. "And why in Molding the Way?"

"Only one way to find out," I whispered back.

Irina nodded as we pulled into a parking space, then powered off the car.

When we made it to the front of the building, we crouched down behind apposing pillars that flanked the entrance. Aside from Myra Gravestepper, there looked to be no one else inside Molding the Way.

"That's so weird," I whispered to Irina as I knelt. "Where's the receptionist? ...And who let your mom inside?"

Her only reply was a light exhale.

Ice in the air whistled past, and I shivered. But Irina stayed still as a statue, straining to hear the hoarse words erupting from between her mother's lips:

"I gave you what you wanted—everything you wanted. I left it at Chadwick's, now where is she!?"

I turned shakily to Irina. "Are you hearing this—?"

"Shh!" she ordered as her mother began to yell.

"I don't care!" Myra screeched. "You're the one who broke into my house! I've done enough for you already! I bought the one you asked for, I used the card you gave me, and I gave the name you told me to tell the clerk! Now, the rest is up to you! I've kept my end."

"What is she talking about?" I mused.

Irina stayed quiet, moving only the slightest bit to get a better vantage.

"DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP ON ME!" came another scream from Myra. "GIVE HER BACK TO ME! GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!"

"There's no way," Irina finally broke her silence.

I scarcely processed what was happening before Irina'd jumped to her feet and bolted inside the door, hollering the moment Myra turned to her. I rushed in on Irina's heels, the glass doors of Molding the Way clanging shut behind me.

"Irina?" Myra gasped. "What on earth...how did you—?"

"Who is that, Mom?" Irina demanded, pointing to Myra's phone. "Who were you yelling at?"

"What?"

"MOM!"

"Young lady, do not raise your voice at—"

"She has GiGi," Irina fired. "I heard you screaming at her about GiGi!"

Myra's eyes drew wide. "How on earth do you—?"

"I know I had a sister, Mom. I know you locked her up in here, and I know she's missing." Irina paused. "What I can't understand is why...how...you could keep something like this from me."

"It wasn't..." Myra began. "You weren't meant to know, Irina. It's all so muddled, so horribly, unforgivably muddled..."

"H—how long, Mom?" Irina's question came out more like a plea. "How long has she been...in here?"

Myra looked away. "Twelve years."

Irina drew a long breath. "Then it's all true—everything I found, everything about...about Pastor Hall and Marissa, Madam Caroline...Lane..."

Myra gasped. "How do you know that name?"

Irina crossed her arms. "Did you really think she died twelve years ago? Died with GiGi's memory?"