Page 10 of In Her Prayers

The coroner straightened up, a small smile playing on her lips.Jenna recognized that expression as Melissa’s way of acknowledging a challenge.“Actually, Sheriff, that’s a common misconception,” Melissa said, shaking her head slightly.“Quicklime doesn’t dissolve bodies the way most people think it does.”

She paused for a moment, reaching out to lightly tap the stained linen with a gloved finger.The material crumbled slightly under her touch, revealing more of the unsettling residue beneath.

“In reality,” she continued, “quicklime—calcium oxide—is more often used to suppress odors and slow down the rate of decomposition.It can have a corrosive effect on organic matter, yes, but it’s not as efficient at breaking down tissue as one might think.”

Jenna nodded slowly, absorbing this new information.She watched as Melissa resumed her examination of the body with renewed focus.

“In this case,” the coroner added after a moment, “the quicklime likely served to mask any smell of decay from becoming noticeable—which would explain how this poor soul remained hidden here for so long without detection.”

Jenna processed their implications—a body hidden away within these hallowed walls—and felt a chill run through her despite the warmth of the room.

“How long?”Jake asked.

“I won’t know more until we get back to my lab,” Melissa concluded.“We’ll need to remove these wrappings carefully in a controlled environment.”Her voice was steady and professional as she delivered this news—an unflinching bearer of harsh facts in a scene that seemed surreal.

“But identification may still prove challenging,” Melissa warned without looking up from her work.“The lime has compromised some aspects of physical identification, and DNA extraction may be difficult due to potential degradation over time.Let’s see what else we can uncover back at the lab,” she added, gesturing to her team to prepare for transport.

The gurney rolled away, each squeak from its wheels a reminder of the morbid reality it conveyed from the building.Jenna lingered a moment longer, studying the closet that had become a crypt.The jagged opening in the drywall looked like a large wound, exposing a secret held far too long.

“Quicklime...”Jenna muttered under her breath, considering the implications.It was a substance often misunderstood, but it was clear that its use here was deliberate—the act of someone who wanted to hide a body.That meant it was most likely a murder.

She glanced once more at the empty cavity before turning to oversee the rest of the scene, her resolve hardening.Whoever had done this had not counted on a sheriff’s tenacity—or her uncanny ability to commune with the dead.Jenna would pursue justice with every resource at her disposal.

With Dr.Stark’s initial examination complete, Jenna knew the next phase awaited—an autopsy that would hopefully yield answers.There were so many more questions: How long had the victim been there?And were there others?

She turned to the others in the room: Jake, Pete Martinez, and Father Walsh, and two of Jenna’s officers.She escorted them past the distraught Sunday School teacher, still seated with Officer Delgado.She gathered them into a tight circle in a quiet spot in the hallway and looked over their worried faces.

“Alright,” she began, her tone leaving no room for debate.“Our biggest concern right now is that this might not be an isolated incident.Until we know for certain, we have to treat the entire church as a potential crime scene.I’m sorry, Father, but we’ll need to close the church to the public until further notice.”

Father Walsh’s face grew ashen, his lips parting as if to protest, but he swallowed his words, nodding reluctantly.“I understand, Sheriff.Do what you must,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know this will be difficult for your congregation,” Jenna added, “but it’s necessary to preserve any potential evidence.”

Father Walsh nodded in understanding.“Whatever you need to do.I’ll make the necessary arrangements and inform the bishop.”

“And Father,” Jenna added, matching his grave tone, “we need to secure the area.No one goes in or out without our say-so.By that, I mean my deputy and myself.”

“Of course, Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins.Whatever you think is best,” Father Walsh replied, his voice betraying a hint of trepidation.Jenna saw his disquiet, the way his eyes lingered on the entrance to the sanctuary.There was an understanding between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the sanctity this place held for many.But she also knew that her duty—to seek the truth, to protect the living—must prevail over all else.

She motioned to her two officers, instructing them to cordon off the perimeter with tape and to keep the curious townsfolk at bay.As they set to work, Jenna turned back to the task at hand, her mind already forming plans, compartmentalizing emotions, readying herself for whatever lay ahead.She knew the ramifications of those decisions would soon spread like ripples through a community that called this place of worship home.She felt a pang of sympathy for the priest, for the parishioners, for the town of Trentville itself, but pushed it aside.

Jake stood there looking perplexed, and Jenna waited for him to voice the question on his mind.“How do we even begin to search … ?”he began before his voice faded.

When everyone looked at him, he added, “Well, what if there are more bodies?And if there are, how are we going to find them?”

CHAPTER SIX

Jake’s question froze everyone in the room for a moment.Then Jenna responded, “That’s a good question, Jake.I mean, we don’t have any particular reason to expect there were any more bodies hidden here, but we have to find out.”

When she heard a sharp intake of breath from Father Walsh, Jenna added, “And how can we even go about looking without doing unnecessary damage to the building?”

“Father Walsh,” Pete’s voice cut through the silence that followed, “do the original blueprints of St.Michael’s still exist?”

The priest nodded.“Yes, they’re kept in the rectory.I can show you.”

“Please,” the caretaker said, “I think I can help if I can get a look at them.”

The group followed Father Walsh out of the Sunday school room, their footsteps echoing solemnly through the hallways to the rectory.Father Walsh moved to an antique cabinet, his hands trembling slightly as he withdrew a large, rolled bundle of papers.He unfurled it carefully on his desk.

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