TWO HOURS
Daniel stepped away from the table.
“This isn’t possible.”
Marcus didn’t answer.
He was studying the writing.
The letters were uneven.
Some were darker than others.
But every word was perfectly readable.
Someone had intentionally left the message.
The question was…
who?
Daniel whispered:
“Maybe someone wrote it before she died.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because of the condition of the skin.”
Daniel stared at him.
Marcus pointed to the writing.
“This wasn’t written hours ago.”
He paused.
“It was written much closer to the time of death.”
Daniel’s face became pale.
“So someone was with her.”
“Possibly.”
“Then why would they tell us not to perform the autopsy?”
Marcus looked at the woman’s face.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel glanced toward the clock.
11:58 p.m.
“Two hours,” he whispered.
Marcus followed his gaze.
The message had been discovered only minutes ago.
“Wait two hours.”
Marcus hated the idea.
His job was to find answers.
Not obey messages left by dead people.
But something about Sister Mary’s death didn’t make sense.
According to the convent report, she had been healthy.
No known heart condition.
No history of serious illness.
No medication that explained sudden death.
And yet she had collapsed without warning.
Marcus reached for the file.
He read the report again.
Then he noticed something.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Who signed the death report?”
Daniel checked.
“Father Gabriel.”
Marcus looked up.
“Not the convent doctor?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Daniel shrugged.
Marcus closed the file.
“That bothers me.”
The morgue suddenly became very quiet.
The refrigeration units hummed.
Rain tapped against the windows.
Daniel looked toward the door.
“Doctor…”
“What?”
“Did you hear that?”
Marcus listened.
Nothing.
Then—
THUD.
Something struck the outside of the building.
Daniel jumped.
Marcus walked toward the window.
There was nobody outside.
He returned to the table.
“We’re waiting.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You’re actually going to obey the message?”
“I’m going to wait long enough to understand what we’re dealing with.”
Marcus reached toward the nun’s habit.
“What did she mean by what’s inside her habit?”
They searched the pockets.
Nothing.
Then Daniel found a small inner compartment sewn into the fabric.
His fingers stopped.
“Doctor…”
Marcus turned.
Daniel slowly pulled out a tiny envelope.
There was no name on it.
Only one sentence.
OPEN AFTER THE LIGHTS GO OUT.
Marcus looked at the ceiling.
The lights were still on.
For the first time that night, he wished they weren’t.
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