Chapter 62
The Church Beneath the Church
The basement had another level.
Nora moved the baptismal cabinet aside, exposing a trapdoor beneath the stone floor. The stairs descended into a room with painted walls and no religious symbols.
In the center stood a wooden table.
On it lay a single tape recorder.
Mara's voice began before anyone pressed play.
“The first room was designed to make confession feel like prayer.”
Claire walked toward the table.
“Were you here?”
“I was a child here.”
The tape continued.
“Everett's mother believed a person could be forgiven if the blame moved to someone else. Everett learned to move it.”
The walls displayed old photographs. In each, one person stood apart from the others. The witness.
Ada stopped before a photograph of a young Mara.
Mara was holding Claire's hand.
Claire remembered the image. It had existed in her house, but the face beside Mara had been cut away.
“You were there,” Ada said.
“I was not born yet,” Claire answered.
“The photograph is dated after your birth.”
Claire looked at the year.
She was three.
The girl beside Mara was not Claire. She had Claire's face, but shorter hair.
The copy touched the photograph.
“That was the first response.”
“Before you?”
“Before me.”
The door at the top of the stairs opened.
Footsteps descended.
Everett Bell entered the lower church with a lantern in his hand.
“You should not have brought the paper record,” he said.
Nora stood between him and the table.
“You should not have left the witness alive.”
Everett looked at Claire.
“The first response was not built from Claire. It was built from Mara.”
Claire turned toward the photograph.
The girl with her face smiled at the camera.
“Then who is Ada?” Claire asked.
Everett raised the lantern.
“Ada is what happens when a memory refuses to belong to anyone.”
The room began to burn.