Page 5 of CHASE: Captive to the Dark

Panic had me taking a step, only to stop. Fuck, what was I going to do? What if I went back to my car and men were waiting? Or the cop? No, I’d call a cab. I’d have it take me…where? What if they knew where I was staying? Was I being too paranoid? I didn’t feel like I was. They’d hurt that man. Surely they’d come looking for me. Would they try to kill me, too?

I pulled the hood up on my jacket, tucking in the ends of my long, blonde hair. In a circle, I began to turn. The sounds of bells filled the air, counting down the hour, and my attention went to the church at the far corner. My heart skipped a beat and I jogged in that direction. It was perfect. I’d tell one of the priests and they could call it in. It would be confidential. Then, I could catch a cab back to the room, get my stuff, and obtain a new room somewhere else until I could locate Rory. It had to work.

The sounds grew louder as I raced up the five steps leading to large, wooden double doors. I glanced back, pushing through, and ran right into a wall of muscle. The air exploded from my lungs at the surprise and force. In a blur of movement, the priest spun around, trying to catch me as my weight pushed me onto my ankle. Pain had me falling. I hit hard, cringing as a large hand settled on the middle of my back.

“Are you okay?”

My eyes rose, locking with the most amazing shade of deep green I’d ever seen. I opened my mouth, but words wouldn’t come. Nothing would as time slowly dragged out. Handsome, beautiful, awe-stuck. I continued to stare, unaware of anything but two of us.

“Here, let’s help you up. I should take a look at that ankle.”

As if I weighed nothing, he helped me to my feet, pulling me in close to his side. I couldn’t tear my gaze away and oddly enough, it appeared, neither could he.

The entryway opened up to the inside of a large room filled with pews. The moment I noticed him heading for the first row, I began to shake my head.

“No, wait. Please, can we go somewhere private? I have a confession. I…”

Those green eyes narrowed, only to appear conflicted. His feet came to a stop just steps away from where I assumed he meant to seat us. “First, let me check your ankle. Then I’ll get Father Brimley for you.”

“No,” I rushed out. “You don’t understand. I’m not Catholic. I mean, I’m not confessing like that. I saw something. I think I might be in trouble. Men, they…”

The large arm around me tightened as the priest turned us and helped me through the entranceway—again. He mumbled something as he turned us to the right. We went through a door that brought us to an open area. Throbbing was consistent in my ankle as he continued.

“I’ll take you in the office. That’s where I was heading anyway. We should be able to have privacy there.”

I nodded, seeing a nun emerge from one of the side doors. She paused, but the priest had us walking into the office before I could give her odd expression much thought.

“Here, sit and take off your shoe. Let me check your injuries while you tell me about these men.”

Aggravated, I sat in the chair, obeying. “My ankle is fine, really. I don’t care about that right now. I…” My eyes lowered to his as he slid my boot free. He was crouched, waiting, but his attention never left my face.

“I saw something on my way into town. A man, he ran out in front of my car. He was…covered in blood. A police officer and another man were chasing him. From their expressions and the blood on the officer’s knuckles and clothes...” I stopped, their faces replaying in my head. “Maybe I’m reading the situation wrong, but I’m afraid I came across something I wasn’t meant to see. I think they may have been the ones to hurt him.”

Warm fingers gripped the edge of my sock, easing it off as he stole glances at me.

“Did you report it?”

My head shook as I tried to hide the guilty tears welling in my eyes. “I ran from them. I was too afraid to call. I haven’t had good experiences with the police. My brother, Rory, he was in a lot of trouble growing up. But I saw another side of cops when he began to get close with them. They weren’t good. They were corrupt. I feel so bad for not calling. What if that man is dead because of me? Or…” I had to pause for fear of breaking down completely. “He could need help and I’m wasting time prolonging assistance. Will you call for me? Will you tell them you can’t say who told you?”

The priest lifted my ankle, turning it to the side, but he didn’t seem to be staring at the bruising already beginning to surface. He looked to be far away. Not even in the same room with me.

“Rory?” The name was nearly a growl, but so quiet I wasn’t sure. “Yes…cops,” he whispered. Seconds went by before he looked up. “I think cops can be on the wrong side at times. Perhaps you were smart coming here instead of calling it in. I’ll do it for you.” He rose, placing my foot down, as if in a daze. I quietly put my sock and boot back on as he picked up the receiver of the phone only to lower it back down. “First, I have to find my keys. Then, I’ll call. Where is your car?”

“It’s a rental. It had blood on the side. I left it a few blocks over, figuring they’d be looking for it…or me.” I breathed heavily, letting his words sink in. “Wait. Keys?”

He nodded. “I was on my way out. I think it would be best if you came with me. If, and it’s a big if, they are looking for you, the officer would no doubt run the plates. He’d know who you are. You’re not safe.”

I got quiet, lowering my head as the realization sank in. Fuck, that cop could nail me for anything he wanted.

“I need to find my brother. He’s the main reason I’m here. He can help me. He’s a lawyer. Rory McIntyre. Do you know him?”

The priest’s body locked up and his hand hovered toward a filing cabinet, not moving. After seconds went by, I stood, limping over. “Father? Are you okay?”

Heavy blinks were followed by him turning toward me at a slow pace. “McIntyre. Rory McIntyre.” His head shook and from his profile, I could see his features were tight. “Yes, I’m sorry. I…the name sounds familiar. I’m not sure why.” With each word, there was an underlining of something. Anger? Or just confusion? The priest was acting strange.

Squeaking followed the cabinet door opening and he shuffled through the folders, looking through each one at a fast pace. When he got to the next, it pulled in his grasp.

“Dammit. Locked.” He turned, taking in the room. We both stiffened as the door opened.

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