“1514.” That meant 3:14 in the afternoon, East Coast time, which translated to 12:14 here. It must have been sent before the old man became ill and died. A noise registered just beneath my conscious perception. I held my breath and listened. Was it something outside? I looked at the clock. 5:35. I listened hard, but could hear nothing. I remained in that heightened state, every sensation sharpened, until the clock moved to 5:36, and then, slowly I relaxed. When we met, Monsignor Picca had told me that the documents from his time in Rome were kept in boxes in his sister’s garage. Perhaps he had found something and wanted to show it to me. I studied the e-mail. It gave his sister’s name and address. When Xavier and I began our investigation into Brother Ugo’s note of confession, I believe we may have unknowingly kicked open a long closed door. It seemed impossible, but somehow our search in Los Angeles had upset the calm. Whom had we provoked? What was that? A loud metallic sound, a scrape from down the hall, and, oh my God!
What do You think about Immaculate Reception (2010)?
