“Church?”

“You need to go to confession. That way you’ll go straight to heaven.” Mona’s eyes gleamed. “In a way, I’m saving you from years of torment here on earth.”

“That’s why you knew Grandma and Mrs. Jankowski had gone to confession that day. You arranged it.” Skye grabbed her keys from the dish by the door and handed them to her aunt.

Skye preceded Mona outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Mona made Skye get into the car via the driver’s side and prodded her over to the passenger seat with the gun.

Using one hand, Mona put the Buick in gear and backed out of the driveway, then continued where she had left off. “Nurse Prynn wasn’t Catholic, so she was going to hell anyway.”

“How did you find out about me locating Miss Prynn?” Skye asked.

“She called me Saturday, demanding money.” Mona kept the gun trained on Skye. “She wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell her that Neal would notice if I took a large sum from our checking account. I begged her to let me pay a little bit each week. She said she was too old for the installment plan. So I agreed to bring her the cash on Sunday.”

Skye watched the gun barrel as it wavered between her chest and head. “But you didn’t bring her money on Sunday, did you? You brought her a plate of your famous double fudge brownies. And instead of pecans you used those nuts you brought home from your Hawaiian vacation. The poison guide said they were very tasty, but extremely toxic.”

“I told her I had forgotten the bank was closed on Sunday, and I’d have to bring her the money the next day, but I wanted to give her something to show my good intentions.” Mona finished Skye’s thought.

“So, when did you steal Miss Prynn’s records?”

“I didn’t. The old bat wouldn’t open the door to me on Sunday. She made me leave the brownies on the step. I didn’t know when she’d eat them. And when I came back Monday morning I couldn’t get into the house.” Mona frowned. “But with you gone the records will be just one among hundreds.”

Skye parked the car in back of the church. “Now what?” She didn’t mention that Mona’s file was missing.

“We go in. You make your confession and we leave. If you make a fuss, I shoot you right here. If you tell the priest, I’ll kill him too. Understand?”

“Yes.”

The two women entered through the side door of the deserted building. It was over a hundred and forty years old, and the main architectural features had not been changed.

They made their way down the main aisle past rows of plain wooden pews. To the right of the altar were the confessionals. About the size of coat closets, the two outer chambers shared their inner walls with the center booth where the priest sat waiting to hear from his parishioners. There were lights above the doors on the left and right to indicate whether they were occupied. The bulbs were operated by a person’s weight upon the kneelers inside. Both lights were off.

Mona sat on the pew nearest the confessional and shoved Skye toward the coffinlike structure. “I’ll be right here, so don’t try anything. Remember, I can hear what you say in there.”

Which was true. The confessionals were far from soundproof, and often those waiting could hear what the penitents in front of them had to confess.

As Skye walked toward the door she put her hand in her pocket and found the pen she had hidden there.

Skye entered slowly, searching for something on which to write. Spotting a discarded Sunday bulletin wedged in the corner, she grabbed it as she knelt on the platform facing the sliding mesh window.

As soon as the screen opened, Skye started the ritual prayer. “Bless me Father for I have sinned.” As she spoke, she scribbled furiously.

Sliding the note and the pen to the priest, she held her breath. Will he believe me? Is there any way he can help me?

The priest gasped and Skye shut her eyes, afraid her aunt would hear. She was relieved when he began his expected response. The slip of paper came back as she recited her sins.

She squinted to read in the dim light. The note said, “Can you crawl through the window? There’s a door leading to the rectory’s basement over here.”

The priest was removing the screen as he gave Skye her penance. She stood on the wooden kneeler, putting her head and shoulders through the opening. He took hold of her around the waist and yanked. At first it didn’t seem as if her hips were going to fit. His prayers took on a note of desperation as he pulled. With a tearing sound, she finally popped through the tight space.

They both froze, waiting to see if Mona had heard the material rip or noticed that the light above the door was now out. When there was no reaction from her, the priest opened a square of wood from the back wall near the floor and nudged Skye down the steps. He then began his prayer of absolution as he joined her on the stairs and replaced the panel. Just before the partition slid into place Skye heard the first gunshot.

Father Burns and Skye locked the secret passage behind them and pushed an old dresser in front of the panel. As they struggled with the heavy piece of furniture they heard more gunshots coming from the church. Skye prayed no one would walk in on Mona’s rampage.

“What now?” the priest asked.

Skye noted his heightened color and rapid breathing. “You stay here, and I’ll go upstairs and phone the police.”

He nodded and sank down into an old chair. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get through the passage.”

“Good.” Skye was halfway up the stairs when the door from the rectory burst open. She yelped and turned to run.

“What are you two doing down here?” the parish housekeeper asked.

Father Burns moved forward and put an arm around Skye. “Skye’s aunt is trying to kill her.”

“Lord have mercy!” The older woman clutched her chest.

“Stay here with Father. I’ll call the police,” Skye ordered.

After telephoning Wally, Skye started to check the doors. None were locked. She had just reached the vestibule when the front door burst open.

Mona stood with her gun pointed at Skye. “Did you really think you could get away from me?”

“It’s too late. I’ve called the police. There’s nothing left to cover up. Everyone knows.” Skye tried to back away.

“Then I have nothing to lose.” Mona took aim.

At that moment they heard the first siren.

“Please, Aunt Mona, put the gun down. Don’t make the police shoot you,” Skye begged.

A look of loathing crossed Mona’s features. “This is all your fault and you have to pay.” Without warning, she squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. Mona squeezed again and again. She was out of bullets. They could hear doors opening and shoe leather slapping the pavement. The police had arrived.

Mona tried to grab Skye, but without a gun she was no match for her niece. Skye stepped into her aunt’s grasp, turned sharply, and easily broke Mona’s grip. Once again Skye’s training in takedowns for uncontrollable kids came in handy.

Enraged, Mona threw the gun at Skye, rushed past and out the kitchen door. Skye hesitated for a moment before running after her. She reached the door just in time to see Mona fling herself into the Buick and squeal out of the parking lot.

A few seconds later Chief Boyd and Officer Quirk ran in. Skye hastily told them what had happened, and Wally sent Quirk in pursuit of Mona. He also radioed for help from the county sheriff, and ordered in all off-duty officers.

May and Charlie arrived at the rectory soon afterward, having heard the dispatches on their police radio scanners.

They were all in the priest’s office and everyone was talking. Finally Wally shouted, “Okay, the first person who speaks without being spoken to leaves the room. You shouldn’t all be here anyway, but it would take more officers than I have available to make you leave. So sit down and shut up!”