Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Fuck. It was too easy to slip into pity-party mode.
Gray shook his head and stepped out of the truck, then zipped up his jacket all the way and walked toward the church.
A sleek black sports car was parked right outside. It didn’t belong here. Aston Martin. Gray eyed it and thought of Kellan. Mobsters made a lot of money, right? And he’d sent Gray to this church for a reason. Maybe other associates went here too. Because it was important to pray after you’d done something criminal.
The world was fucked up.
Someone left the church as Gray approached, and he caught the door and slipped in.
Just like yesterday, the first thing that hit him was the scent of paraffin wax.
It was a beautiful church; he couldn’t deny that. Both grand and intimate, lavish and cozy. The pews were empty, except for three. A man in a suit had his head bowed in prayer, two old women sat next to each other across the aisle, and near the front, a woman sat with a child.
Gray glanced around to see if—there. A priest appeared from the side. There was an open space and microphones set up, perhaps for a choir, and a few doors led somewhere. Gray wasn’t religious, and he’d never really set foot in a Catholic church before yesterday.
Heading down the aisle toward the front, he waited until he was close enough so he could keep his voice down.
“Excuse me.”
The priest glanced up from what looked like a day planner, and he smiled politely. “Yes?”
“Are you Father O’Malley?” Gray wondered.
The priest nodded and gave him his full attention. “I am. How can I help you?”
Gray’s first impression of the man was that he seemed kind. He was older, maybe in his late sixties, with gray hair and deep laugh lines, but there was youth in his eyes. His hair wasn’t tidy, which came off as charming.
And he was friends with mobsters?
“My name is Gray Nolan,” Gray said. “I’m looking for a boy. He’s eight years old—Jayden Chapman. I knew his big brother.”
Recognition flitted past in Father O’Malley’s eyes. “You know Jonas?”
Relief struck Gray hard. He’d come to the right place. “Yeah. Well—yeah.” He decided against sharing anything right away. “Does that mean you know where I can find Jayden?”
“I sure do.” Father O’Malley paused. “You don’t strike me as someone who works for Child Protective Services…”
“Oh yeah, no—I’m not. I mean, I don’t.” Gray felt dumb. He should’ve started by mentioning Kellan. “Kellan Ford sent me here. I met with him yesterday.” Since he knew Jayden was hiding from the authorities, it made sense that he surrounded himself with people who respected his wishes to stay off the radar. “I’m really only here on Jonas’s behalf.”
Something changed in Father O’Malley’s expression. His gaze grew gentle, and sympathy seeped in. “He’s not okay, is he?”
Fuck. Gray let out a breath and shook his head.
“That saddens me.” Father O’Malley looked toward the altar, then back to Gray. “Jayden comes by the shelter next door for lunch most days. It’s only for women and children, so I’ll have someone send him over here afterward if you don’t mind waiting around a bit.”
“Of course, no, I don’t mind. I’ll be here.”
Gray had a couple hours to kill, so he started by heading across the square. He bought some fresh rolls at a bakery and some other stuff at a corner store. Fruit, couple of sodas, cream cheese, and candy. Then, while munching on a roll, he checked out the shelter on the other side of the church.
It was a simple brick building with a fire escape on the front. Barred windows on the first floor, a few signs with directions, rules, and opening hours. Men were directed to another shelter down the street, and single fathers and LGBTQ persons were instructed to call the office.
Two women stepped out on the stoop and lit up cigarettes, and Gray returned to the church. No need to get caught being too snoopy.
A silence blanketed him the second he was back inside the church. Traffic noise and chirping birds faded, and he took a deep breath and let the temporary peace settle. Religion had never been his thing, but he couldn’t deny the church had a calming atmosphere.
The man in a suit he’d seen before was still here, and Father O’Malley was seated next to him now.
Gray chose a pew farther down the aisle and took a seat with his paper bag next to him. People came and went, some to give a quick prayer at the altar, some to light a candle. Eventually, the man in a suit left too, and Father O’Malley went back to doing…whatever it was he did. He chatted with an old lady for a few minutes, seemingly giving her comforting words, judging by how she appeared to feel better when she left.