Scarlett’s mind raced, and acid burned her throat. That phrase . . . he was a decent man. She’d heard it before in connection with Mr. Schmidt. She’d read it in Narcisa’s letter: Mr. Schmidt tried to save my baby. He has a spark of decency in him, but the others are too powerful.
Had Narcisa, once a midwife, delivered Kandi’s baby as she lay dying? And then—very old herself and unable to care for a newborn—delivered it to the one decent person she knew of in Farrow? A small sound came up Scarlett’s throat, born of shock and horror. “Narcisa,” Scarlett breathed.
Vicky’s gaze darted to her and then away. “I suspect, yes. I’d secretly bought oils and herbs for fertility from her. The church wouldn’t have supported that sort of medicine, but I did it anyway. I was desperate, so I sinned.” The last words emerged as a mere croak, her cheeks coloring in shame.
“We have to tell, Vicky.” She reached out, putting her hand on hers where it rested on the pew. Her skin was cold and papery. “Millie, she has family, people who deserve to know she exists.” That Kandace lived on in the eyes of her child.
Vicky looked down where Scarlett’s hand covered hers. “Yes. They should know. Amelia’s people. I’m sick.” She looked back up, her eyes on Christ again. “I have cancer. Perhaps I’ve been punished after all. Perhaps we all have.”
A noise sounded and Scarlett looked up to see Sister Madge standing near a side door. Her expression was somber, eyes filled with sadness as she looked at Vicky. “I told her,” she said to Sister Madge.
The old nun approached, such blatant sorrow in her eyes that Scarlett’s chest squeezed. “Yes, dear. You had to. You saved that little girl. You did right by her, and now you must do right by her again. We all must repent for the roles we played.”
Scarlett watched the nun, a breath of relief ghosting from her lips. Although her overwhelming emotion at the moment was shock, she also felt a modicum of breathless triumph. Hope. Millie, Kandi’s daughter, could very well be the key to bringing the truth to light. And that truth involved Camden.
“I believe, Victoria, that we must call the police. Immediately. All of this, it’s gone on far too long.” She turned her head, looking at Jesus as Vicky had done, joining her hands in prayer. “Forgive us, Father,” she whispered mournfully. “Oh, please forgive us.”
Vicky was weeping quietly now, her head hung. “Come, dear,” she said to Scarlett. “Let us leave Vicky to her grief. I’ll come back and drive her home after we’ve made the call. I believe it’s best that we do not contact the sheriff.” Her face registered conflict. She knew he was part of the guild. She knew he was corrupt.
Scarlett pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “We can use my phone.”
“I’m afraid the church doesn’t have wireless service,” she said, a sad smile coming over her face. “Oh, we’re desperately out of touch, aren’t we?” She sighed. “I have the number for the state police in my office. We can call from there. You must tell the police what you know about your friend. Perhaps a DNA test . . .” She frowned. “Oh, dear, it’s going to hurt so many people.” Still, she turned and began moving toward the door. Scarlett stood, following. She appreciated that the old woman was going to do the right thing, despite that she had played a part in the town’s corruption. At the very least, she’d aided and abetted with her silence alone. Despite her words, and despite Scarlett’s hope that she was being truthful, she walked a few paces behind the old woman, as frail as a bent tree branch. She was far too feeble to do anything physically to Scarlett, but she wasn’t going to give her the element of surprise should she try.
She looked back, offering Scarlett the glimmer of a smile. “I drove out to Lilith House just a little bit ago, to offer my condolences on your friend, and see if there was anything the church could do to aid in your comfort.”
“Oh,” Scarlett frowned. “We must have just missed each other. Millie was there,” she said. “Did you see her?”
“No, just that pretty little girl of yours.” She opened the door to her office and Scarlett left it open wide. Sister Madge sat behind her desk and took out an old-fashioned phone book that appeared to be for the state of California, flipping through the pages. There was a Saran Wrap covered plate of cake bites on the edge of the desk and Sister Madge used one hand to push them toward Scarlett. “For the youth group sleepover tonight. I suppose I’ll have to cancel it now . . .” She unwrapped a corner. “Those girls do love their sweets. Have one. Something sweet to temper the sour. A comfort for the soul.” She smiled, sad and wistful. “You know better than anyone how food ministers, don’t you, dear?”
Yes, Scarlett liked to think she did. Something sweet to temper the sour. Of course, in this case, sour seemed to be an understatement. There was a lump in her throat. She didn’t really want a bite of cake, but for the sake of politeness, when the old woman went back to flipping through the phone book, looking for the state police number, Scarlett took one small cake, placing it in her mouth and chewing slowly.
It might have been good. Scarlett was so preoccupied by what she was going to say to the police, to Camden when she got hold of him, that she didn’t even register anything about the sugary treat.
Cam. Kandi. So many possibilities swirled through her mind. The state police would come back. They’d question Vicky further. Would they run a DNA test on Millie? Her thoughts felt strange. Suddenly disconnected. She massaged her temple.
“Vicky overheard Haddie telling Amelia about the horned beast she follows through the woods.”
“What?” she asked, frowning when her words came out slurred. The old nun wavered in front of her and she shook her head.
“Mm.” Sister Madge licked her finger slowly and then used it to flip another page, her gaze trained on Scarlett. “She’s seen him. She knows where he is. They’ll be after her now.”
After her? A fog descended and she felt suddenly overcome with wooziness. Haddie? After Haddie? Sister Madge replaced the phone in its cradle, leaning in and staring at her. Scarlett gripped the side of the desk, the room going blurry.
Sister Madge stood, walking around the desk slowly. Scarlett attempted to rise, but her legs buckled from under her. The nun came to stand above her, her face stark white and wobbly. “All you vile, fallen women,” she heard her mutter.
Oh God, oh no. They’ll take Millie. They’ll hurt Haddie. It was her final thought before Scarlett floated away.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Scarlett moaned, attempting to lift her head as the world slowly came back into focus. She tried to move her hands but they were tied behind her back. Fear dripped down her spine. The fog cleared minutely and she pulled herself up with effort, scooting backward against whatever was directly behind her, pressing into her back uncomfortably.
She opened her eyes, the world shifting into focus. She was in a stark, monastic bedroom, a bed against one wall with a large, metal crucifix hanging above it, a dresser on the opposite wall, devoid of any knickknacks or personal items.
A tabby cat sat on the windowsill casually licking its paws.