Church felt different during the night at Laurel, it didn’t feel holy any more but as the town itself you could feel the place’s decay and it was sad. It had never been like this in other towns. It certainly hadn’t been like this at his small hometown and he had never been a daytime church goer (except for mass, he would rarely miss it.) It always felt like someone was observing him. Like people knew what he was, that he wasn’t good enough for their christian God. He was okay with that too, it was his God too. He understood that.
He was about to start praying when his eyes automatically looked up reacting to the noise coming for the door, sometimes he’d fantasize about dying there…how terrible, beautiful and ironic that would be. He suddenly felt the urge of talking, just to know that he wasn’t alone “I didn’t expect anyone to come to church this late at night.” he offered with a smile on his face…it was not genuine, but he hated being unnecessarily rude.
Step one in solving this bad boy and making a quick return home to the bustling city was doing research; she’d read the case file a dozen times before her arrival, but there was something different about exploring the town, meeting the witnesses, and getting a feel for the place that didn’t translate on paper. FBI agents, she’d learned, were not novelists; their descriptions were factual and merely painted one picture, unopened to interpretation. But people weren’t like that; she could speak to someone and get a different image to the one that had been prescribed to her, different, tone, body language, overall demeanor; it always helped to go further that the case facts.
So that was her goal, trading her heels or a comfortable pair of flats, she took off, leaving the small flat she had chosen to rent during her—what she’d hoped would be brief—stay in Laurel to explore the town, meet the locals, and catch the killer. Her first stop? Church. Because who doesn’t love a repenting sinner.
She tried to make her entrance quiet, nonchalant, but the doors were heavy and equally noisy, obnoxiously announcing her arrival to the one soul seated in the pews. She’d have to remember that: church doors suck for silent entrances. “I’m not staying,” she replied, fingers of one hand clasping her other forearm. “Just wanted to look around.”
“You just wanted to look around?” he repeated in disbelief, considering offering her a place next to him but regretting it right away. He wasn’t a holier than thou attitude type of guy, but it felt a little disrespectful to go to a place where people came to find peace only to admire the view. “You shouldn’t come here then.” He said sharply as he swallowed, he walked towards him and with a sigh Abel handed her a candle, “Here…you should at least light a candle before you go.”
He had a habit of lighting the church candles after he was done praying and before leaving, it seemed like a ridiculous intent to redeem himself, but ever since he started doing it, he felt lighter. When he had first arrived at Laure, Abel had been taken over by guilt, but he had been running away from the past long enough and had to move on somehow. He turned to walk back to his place and started to walk, but turned around to face her once more and frowned “By the way, who are you?”
