Page 17 of Spies Like Us

From everything I’ve managed to overhear, it sure sounds like it’s the hub of operations, and the deaths and missing teens all from the area are definitely suspicious. We could do something about it and eliminate those we suspect are involved, but without knowing for sure, we would just be grasping at straws. We need proof. We also need to find where their records are stored. There must be some record of transactions and where these kids were sold to. MITHOS would like to recover as many of them as possible. They have teams on standby to go in and extract them from their own private hells. Dad and Uncle Theseus are in the process of setting up a rehabilitation center for them. Some people will never get over that kind of trauma, but they want to ensure they have as much help as possible.

The service drags out for about two hours. It’s close to midday when we all give our final amen and the pastor excuses us to enjoy the remainder of our Sabbath.

Miller and I stand up, and I groan as I stretch out my back before making for the exit. As we shuffle out of our pew to join the masses leaving the church, I hear Martha call our names. Miller visibly slumps.

“Damn it,” he grumbles as we both turn to face the woman who is waving us toward the front of the church instead of going with the flow and leaving.

“I guess we’re about to confess our sins.” I tuck my arm into his and drag him forward. “Come on, it will be fun. I bet I can make his dick stand up quicker than you can,” I tease Miller, and he gives me a reluctant smile but doesn’t push my arm away. Progress.

“I bet you can indeed. Just looking down your top has made the whole service very uncomfortable for me,” he admits, and my mouth drops open in shock. He chuckles and takes over leading me toward our pretend foster mother.

“Aww, I’m so happy to see the two of you getting along better,” she says, clapping her hands together as we approach. “See, I knew the good lord would be great for your spirit.”

I have to force myself to smile and not roll my eyes. Miller just grunts. A man approaches us. He’s probably in his late twenties, and he’s wearing what looks like a guard’s uniform. He’s quite attractive, with sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes, but they kind of look dead inside. Martha beams at him.

“Hi, Martha, I just wanted to say a quick hello before I have to run off to work.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek, and she grabs him before he walks away.

“Oh, Simon, this is Miller and Mackenzie, two of our current foster children. This is Simon. He is one of our success stories. He works as a guard down on the docks. We’re so proud of how far he’s come since he used to be with us.”

“Hi.” I smile shyly at him, and Miller just nods his head.

“Hey there. If you work hard and follow Martha’s and James’s suggestions, I’m sure you’ll go as far as I have. Maybe even further.” He winks. “Sorry I have to run. I’ll catch up with you next week.”

He leaves with a wave, and Martha turns her attention back to us. She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. It’s surprisingly cool. “Mackenzie, I’d like you to make use of the confessional before you leave. Rid yourself of all those negative emotions and thoughts so you can really start yourself on a new and enlightened path.”

She doesn’t say anything to Miller, so I guess he’s safe for another day. I sigh and look from her to the confessional over in the corner.

“Father Sweeny always takes confession for about half an hour after service. I’m sure your study will go so much better if the weight on your soul has been lifted,” she continues, and I know she’s not going to stop until I give in.

Joke’s on her, there is no forgiving my soul after all the people I’ve killed, but she doesn’t know that. I wonder if she knows that when I step in there, I’ll be gaining audience with someone much more depraved than anything my pretend backstory has committed. I look at her closely, and I can’t see any deceit in her eyes, only concern.

“Okay, Martha. If it will make you feel better, then I’ll talk to the pastor.”

“Dear, it’s not about me feeling better, it’s about you,” she responds, but she gives me a small push toward the confessional. Miller starts to follow me, but Martha swaps her hand from my arm to his. “Let her go alone, Miller. She won’t want witnesses to her confession.” Miller winces, and I can see she has dug her nails into his arm. Whoa, that seems a little like overkill.

“Hey, Miller.” Lathan approaches. “We’re just going to grab some lunch at the Mug Shot. Do you want to join us?” I look around, and Ry is being dragged out the double doors by Sophie. I guess she’s still trying to put some distance between the two guys.

“What a wonderful idea,” Martha gushes. “Mackenzie can catch up after her confession.”

“Actually, I’m going to go study at the library. Are you leaving yet? I need my bag out of the car,” I ask her, and she shakes her head.

“No, dear. We’re having lunch with the Sweenys and a few others, so we have to wait until Daniel is done. How about I go and get it for you while you’re in confession?” she suggests.

I didn’t put my laptop and gun in it, so I don’t have to worry about her snooping. “Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

I can’t put it off any longer. It’s time to enter the proverbial lion’s den. I walk over to the booth. It’s a weirdly elaborate setup, something you’d see in an old catholic church. The door is open a crack, so I swing it toward myself and enter, pulling it closed behind me. As I look around, a little window opens in the wall.

Chapter 8

“Ah, hi,” I say, pretending to feel awkward. “I guess I’m here to confess my sins.”

“Sit down, child, and tell me what plagues you,” the same voice from the sermon instructs, so I sit on the hard little chair and gnaw on my lip with feigned nerves, just in case he has a camera feed or something.

“Like what?” I hedge, sounding unsure.

“Well, have you done anything you are ashamed of recently? Something that God may frown upon?” the pastor prompts without being too blatant about it.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

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