"Step on it!" I yelled to Deacon Brenner as we drove further into town. The box of files rested securely on my lap.

"What do you have there?"

"Evidence," I said. "Evidence collected by Father Blanchard. He is a commendable man indeed to have collected this much information."

"Evidence for Mrs. Stanton's murder?"

"That and more, dear sir. Now, floor it!"

In minutes we had arrived at the police station. I hobbled out of the car and pushed open the front door. A police officer called out from the desk.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"I need to speak with Father Blanchard!"

"I'm afraid you can't at the moment," said the officer. "Under Investigator Dorsey's orders."

"Bastard! This is urgent!"

"Whoa!" said the officer. "Did you just curse? A nun, cursing?"

"I sure as damn well did. Now get that man on the phone. I need to speak with Father Blanchard immediately."

Deacon Brenner entered carrying my umbrella. He seemed startled and confused. I filled him in on my frustration and waited for the officer to contact Investigator Dorsey. After about ten minutes, Dorsey arrived.

"Sister Mary," he said stepping up to where I was now seated. "I figured you would be deep in prayer on a sunday evening."

"Prayers can wait. I have important matters to attend to right now."

"How can I help you?"

"I need to confess my sins to father."

"Seriously?" said Dorsey. "That can't wait? You do realize we are still questioning Father Blanchard for assaulting Michael Stanton?"

"I am dead serious, sir," I said sternly. "A person may die at any time. Can you live with yourself if I die tonight and was unable to confess my sins condemning my actions to hell?"

"No," said Dorsey. I poked him with my umbrella. "But--"

"It will take no more than a few minutes."

"Fine," said Dorsey rolling his eyes. He led me into the hallway and to a door labeled, 2. "You have five minutes. I'm sure that is long enough for a proper confession."

"Because this is between God and I, you are forbidden to listen in, understood, Mr. Dorsey?"

"Of course, I was raised Catholic," he said. "I know the sanctity of confession. Just get it done quickly. I haven't eaten supper yet."

He unlocked the door and motioned me inside. The door shut and locked behind me. Across the room Father Blanchard knelt in prayer. He was so deep in his faith that he did not realize I had entered.

"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever."

"Amen," I interrupted.

Father Blanchard stood up in alarm.

"Oh Sister Mary. What brings you here?"

"I come to confess, Father."

"An odd place, but certainly. Come child, sit."

We sat, bowed our heads, and clasped our hands. I began.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one month and three days since my last confession."

"What are you transgressions, child?"

"I have flashed my knickers at church. I have looked with lust on handsome men. I have abused God's good creatures and fed them unhealthy junk food. I manipulated people for my own personal gain, Slapped a young boy for free ice cream, broken into a library, stolen a car..." By now Father Blanchard was looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. I'm sure he never heard such things from anyone let alone a nun. "I raided your fridge, consumed much of the communion wine, and broken my promise with you."

"Daughter of God, are you truly repentant of your sins?"

I paused for a moment, unfolded my hands, leaned back in my seat, and in a swift motion propped my feet on the table.

"I will be after I understand something."

"Sister Mary," said Father Blanchard scornfully. "This is a holy sacrament. It is not to be treated with disrespect."

"Disrespect?" I chuckled. "The only disrespect I can find out of this situation is you not telling me the truth."

"Sister Mary, you are speaking with God right now. Not Father Blanchard."

"Bullocks!" I tapped his hands with my foot. "I'm trying to bring justice to many dead innocent children. God will understand a simple break in tradition. Besides it was the only way to get myself in here alone to talk to you. Now spill it. What are you hiding?"

"About what?"

I reached into the box and pulled out the file marked, THE FIRE AND SINCLAIR MARTIN.

"So you went inside my house and sorted through my things? Is this another sin you want to add to your list?"

"The dossier, Father."

"Put that away," he said pushing the file across the table.

"I've read the entire thing, you know. I've mulled it over, consumed its contents, but there is still one piece missing. Something that you know that no one else knows."

"I cannot speak of what I know."

"Why?"

"I made a vow to God. The sacred seal of confession. I'm sure you know it."

I recalled the vow all priests make.

"No matter what you hear in the sacrament of confession, you are forbidden to repeat it or face the wrath of God and excommunication. Yes. I know the vow you took. Full secrecy."

"Then you should understand the reason for my silence."

"I see." I paused for a moment removing my feet off the table. "So that's it then. The murderer confessed to you. Told you who was behind these murders. Is it one, two, the whole Stanton Family?"

"I am forbidden to say."

"What about Sinclair Martin." I pushed the folder back into view. I jabbed my finger hard on the name. "The boy who died in the fire. What is his role in all of this? His death clearly has had some influence."

"He is my sin," Father Blanchard breathed deeply. "I am the source of these crimes, no one else. I did it. I am the one and only killer here."

"You are defending a murderer. They will kill again."

"If you know what's good for you, sister. You will leave this place, otherwise you will be next." Father opened the file and pulled out a picture of Sinclair Martin. "He was a beautiful boy wasn't he?"

"And so was the devil in the eyes of God until the very moment he fell." My eyes lit up. "So that's it. I see."

"So you've figured it out haven't you?"

"Yes," I said. "The fire, the hospital, the Stanton family, the tragedy of Mrs. Annette's late husband, the abducted and murdered children, the disappearance of the reporter, and the slaying of Denise and Wilfred Stanton. Yes, I have figured it out, and it upsets me so."

"Bless you, Sister Mary."

"Murder is a mortal sin, father, and you have not committed it." I removed my feet from the table and leaned forward. "But what you have done is a greater sin on it's own."

"I know. I understand God's laws." Father Blanchard closed the dossier and handed it back to me. "With the power granted to me by the church and by God, I give you your penance."

"What? No Hail Marys or Our Fathers?"

"No. Do what I cannot. Make this right. Now go and sin no more."

Father Blanchard managed a small smile

I chuckled.

"Don't count on it, Father."

In no time I was standing, my arms heavy with the box of documents. I left the room, rejuvenated and clear, but God had one more test for me, one I would surely fail.