“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” a voice whispers.
“Welcome,” Nicolas says. “What do you have to confess?”
“I killed her.”
Nicolas’s pulse shoots up, and he sucks in a breath. “Are you saying you willingly took the life of another person?”
“Yes. God is the reason I killed her. Will you absolve me, Father?”
As Nicolas fumbles for his phone to send an urgent text for help, he hears the chair in the other booth squeak, and a shadow passes in front of the screen. His pulse pounds in his temples and he starts to sway, dizziness washing over him.
Help isn’t going to make it in time.