Blackwater Deceiver
A scoff sounded through the line, and she lowered her metal, instinctively ready to move on to her next trick if necessary. Seemed as if a badge meant nothing to the nun on the other end. “And for what? Who are you and why have you arrived without notice?” Okay then. The badge meant less than nothing because last she checked, detectives didn’t need to ring first.
She narrowed her gaze at the camera. “I’m a detective, ma’am—”
“Sister!” The curt correction blasted from the speaker. “And all visitors are to call and make arrangements prior to arrival. It is posted on the door.” With a sigh, Maxine turned and read the very small, out of the way sign that declared, “All visitors are to call and make arrangements prior to arrival.”
“Color me educated,” she muttered. “Shall I come back then, next time with a warrant?” There was nothing she could do if the nun turned her away again, but that one little word always seemed to do the trick. She gave a hard glare into the cameras and waited. A buzzer rang out followed by the clank of metal locks springing into action as the unbarring of the entrance sounded, and she took in a relieved breath. Pushing the door open she stepped inside, noting that the locks looked newly installed. Is that for their new patient or just an upgrade? she wondered. An elderly nun in an all-white habit, with thick rosary beads clutched between frail-like fingers, made her way down cream-colored stairs. Max took in her surroundings of the Romanesque building. Cold, neutral colors with the scent of lemon polish in the air … yep, seemed homelike. She rolled her eyes. Still, this was an amazing place to hide a criminal. Getting information even with all her connections would be hard to procure—hard, but far from impossible. Maxine would find her fugitive even if it meant taking this gothic-like hideaway down one fucking brick at a time.
AUDIO COMING SOON!
