I switch to the tracking app. Her phone’s location appears on the map as a small green dot. It’s not in any of the places I might’ve guessed. Not at Rae’s place or the office.
It’s on Mulberry Street. Little Italy. I pinch to zoom and the pin resolves over an unusual site: the Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral.
When I see that, I frown at the screen. Why is she in a cathedral at five in the morning?
I know the answer before I’ve finished asking: Some weight gets too heavy to carry alone.
I pocket the phone, pick my jacket back up off the couch, and stride out. I haven’t set foot in a church since my mother’s memorial. I swore that day I’d never go back. I wanted nothing to do with a God who’d make a man like Lukas Lazarev.
But for her, I’ll go.
“Take me to church / I’ll worship
