The Black ChapelChapter 3: The Man Who Left the Cloth
October 6th, 2021 – 9:42 AMAlbany, New York – Warehouse District
The first thing Maria noticed about him was the smell: whiskey, copper, and old paper.
Liam Renner didn't look like a detective. Not anymore. He wore a heavy coat he hadn't washed in a year, stubble like dirt caught in broken glass, and eyes that had long since stopped caring what anyone thought. He was hunched over a stack of files in a cramped office above a defunct tire shop.
"You're early," he said, not looking up.
"You said ten."
"I meant eleven. But fine. Come in."
She stepped into the room carefully. It smelled like mold and burned coffee. A single oscillating fan ticked back and forth behind his desk like a tired clock.
Renner motioned to the chair across from him. It creaked violently under her weight.
"So," he said, flipping a pen between his fingers. "You work for the Church."
"I work in records. That's different."
"Same monster. Just a different limb."
Maria pulled out the photograph, sliding it across the desk like evidence. Renner looked at it for exactly four seconds before nodding slowly.
"I've seen that place," he muttered. "Once."
"When?"
"1997. I was still a priest then. Fresh-collared. The Bishop sent me out there to deliver sacramental oils to some visiting clergy. Told me not to ask questions, just knock, leave the kit, and go."
"And you didn't?"
"Of course I didn't." He leaned back, cracked his neck. "I waited. Watched through the trees. Men in robes — but not standard issue. No parish garments. No crosses. Just black hoods. They were dragging something heavy down the side of the chapel. Something that didn't want to be dragged."
Maria's throat went dry. "You reported it?"
"To who? The same men who buried it?" Renner's laugh was dry and hollow. "A week later, my request for reassignment came through. Quiet town. Easier cases. They called it 'a blessing.' I called it a warning."
Maria nodded slowly. "They're hiding something. I think the deaths were staged. I think there's a list."
"Of course there's a list," Renner said, rubbing his temple. "There's always a list. What you're asking, Ms. Vescari, is whether you want to be on it."
Later that evening, Maria returned to her apartment.A plain envelope was slid under her door. No stamp. No return.
Inside: a single slip of paper. A name.
Father Caleb StroudDeceased – 1999Cause: Accidental drowningAssigned location at time of death: St. Irenaeus Chapel
Clipped to the paper: a rosary.
The crucifix had been snapped in half.