Wulf grabbed her by the waist as she fainted. Mary Jane had already endured two bashes to the cranium during two car crashes. In fear of her having a concussion, he swept her up into his arms. But what he feared most, was the faint desk lamp illuminating an armed, bearded man before them in long johns. He put his other hand up to indicate that they weren’t a threat—even though he’d just beaten through what appeared to be the angry old man’s basement office.

Wulf quickly introduced himself, noticing the cross dangling around the older man’s neck. “I’m Officer Dylan Wulf. I understand that this might seem odd. A cop—”

“And a stripper breaking into my basement. Yes, I’ve seen the billboards. This is very odd. I’m Reverend Tobias,” the man said, putting his shotgun on to stacks of handwritten papers cluttering the wooden oak desk behind him. “But more peculiar things have happened than someone using PGF Miner’s passageway in, uh, let’s say fifty years. That’s the last time my brother and I played in those abandoned tunnels. What happened to the girl, officer?”

“She’s dehydrated and most likely has a concussion.” Wulf breathed easy, recalling being invited to Tobias’s church during one domestic violence situation with a woman and her husband.

Wulf gingerly hoisted Mary Jane into his arms as Tobias led the way up the cemented stairs mentioning, “My family has owned this plot of land for ages. The house and the adjourning church, or should I say the church, first?” He chuckled and continued in a slow gait while holding the rail. “When I was a boy, my brother and I would use the miner tunnels to get to the dairy. It’d be over 100 degrees outside, and we only liked warm milk at night. I reckon it was hot today, and you were using this tunnel for?”

“Because of Beasley,” Wulf said.

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him. I’ve extended an invite to my church countless times. Well, this is sanctuary. Let’s lay her on the bed upstairs,” Tobias suggested as they made it to the first floor. They rounded the landing and the next flight onto carpeted stairs.

“Toby, what’s going on?” A pale woman in a flowery robe came out of the second room on the right.

“Officer Wulf broke through that old PGF Miner’s door, you know the one you wanted to have plastered over in my study while I was finishing Sunday’s sermon.”

“Glory be to God!” She opened the farthest door. “You always finish your sermon so early. There’s a reason it took so long.”

“Hilda, pull back the sheets so we can lay her down,” Tobias ordered as they made their way into a modest room with a cross of Jesus on the pale-yellow wall.

“I’ll go get a bucket of warm water and wash her up.” Hilda fretted as she pulled back the sheets. “Or should I call the doctor? It’s after midnight, but she—”

“Just clean her up, Hilda,” Tobias grumbled about his wife, while they lowered Mary Jane onto the bed. He nodded his head as Hilda rushed out. “That wife of mine can go on forever with questions.”

Wulf nodded and brushed the hair out of Mary Jane’s face as Tobias flicked on a lamp. Hilda gasped as she re-entered the room with a large bowl of steaming water.

“I know this child.” Hilda’s cheeks flamed red.

“I was just saying that,” her husband replied in a manner meant for her to calm or maybe even stop talking so much.

“God bless her soul. She’s in the right place,” Hilda murmured as she sat at the edge of the bed. She wrung out a washcloth and began to cleanse Mary Jane’s face. With a tender hand, Hilda dabbed at the crusted blood against her temple. “Toby, go get more blankets.”

When he left, her worried eyes turned to Wulf. Another gasp escaped her thin lips. “I’ve seen you in the newspaper,” she started.

Wulf gave Hilda all his attention. In a nanosecond, he had assessed where this conversation was going and would rather head the other direction. Away from Hilda and most definitely away from the beauty before him, he acknowledged Hilda with, “That so?”

“You’re the cop…from the LAPD.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wulf clung to the appropriate amount of distance he’d become accustomed to since leaving Los Angeles. Everyone who knew of him admired him.

He didn’t fucking deserve any admiration.

Hilda didn’t understand his desire to be unknown, to be just a small-town deputy. With her knowledge of Wulf’s past, she mentioned a few of the wonderful statements in the L.A. Times about him. “Something ’round here ain’t right. You know that, don’t you?”

He gave a subtle nod.

“God sent you to save these young women.” She sounded sure.

His worst fears had unfolded in Hilda’s eyes. Wulf’s only desire was to mend his broken spirit in a place where no one knew him. A place he’d closed his eyes and picked off a U.S. map.

Wulf hadn’t done much police fieldwork in some time, as evidenced by how easily Mary Jane had outran him earlier.

Tobias entered with the blankets. Hilda’s hopeful eyes turned back to Mary Jane. She unfolded the knit blankets slowly and placed them around Mary Jane in a loving manner.

After Hilda helped Mary Jane settle in, Wulf ate a cold ham sandwich and sat in the chair, listening to her pray over the young woman. Hilda said I’m Mary Jane’s saving grace. This town’s saving grace. He wondered.

He washed the dinner down with a glass of water, but it still lodged in his throat. He leaned back in the rocking chair and nodded off to the sound of her reciting Psalms. Hilda seemed comfortable praying well into the night and waking up every so often to pray more.

“Our Father, who art in heaven….”

Mary Jane’s eyes popped open.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will—oh, she’s awake!” A woman with warm eyes smiled and stifled a yawn. Sunlight streamed into the large window and made her appear like a grandmother angel.

“Who are you? Where am I? What—” Mary Jane jumped into a seated position in the twin-size bed, all the while keeping her eye on the old lady in the rocking chair.

“I-I…” The woman was at a loss for words.

Mary Jane noticed her shoes on the floor. She scurried to grab them and noticed Officer Wulf awakening from the rocking chair next to her.

Slipping her feet into the boots, she ran for the door before he could get up. She had remembered the first night she’d met Jake. He’d saved her from Beasley. Before falling asleep with pillows wedged between them, he told her not to trust the police—that was if she got away.

Her eyes adjusted to the light of day as she scurried downstairs with Wulf calling her name. She headed for the screen door, noticing a white-haired man in overalls. He held a steaming mug of coffee—a potential weapon. Skidding in her boots, Mary Jane did an about-face and ran in the other direction, just as Wulf jumped the last couple of steps. She sprinted down a long hallway toward double doors.

Bursting through the doors, she stopped quickly to see a giant Jesus on a cross to her left and rows of pews to her right leading to the church’s main entrance. Rainbows of sunlight transfixed the sanctuary in an ethereal glow from the long, multicolored glass windows above. Before her, on the opposite side of the church, was another set of double doors, but her eyes were transfixed on that of the Christ’s spellbound by the pain.

“Mary Jane, wait!” Wulf called as she froze before the altar.

“Hold it, Mary Jane, we can help,” came an ancient voice that she assumed was the old man’s.

Before she could continue to the exit at the opposite side, the doors at the back of the church exploded. Bits and pieces of wood soared through the air. In a flash, she remembered Jake’s sidekick Lyle speeding in a Ford.

Lyle, Beasley, Jake, and five other men entered the back of the church. They started firing shots at Wulf as he ran from the side door. Bullets riddled Jesus. Wood splinters broke from the front row of pews.

Wulf dove for Mary Jane and pushed her down at the front pew on the left side of the church. Her knees took it the worst. They knelt, staring at the exit only a few yards away, but they couldn’t continue because two men were headed up the side of each row of aisles.

“What in the world?” The bullets stopped as Reverend Tobias shouted, entering the room.

“Well, sir,” came Beasley’s heavy, breathy voice. “All we want is the girl. Mary Jane, I have—”

Tobias cut in, entering the front right side of the church, “Not in my church.”

Thump!

Mary Jane’s eyes widened as the life exited the old man’s eyes. A single buckshot sent sprays of bullets in his chest. The exit wound splattered crimson at Jesus’ feet. Tobias dropped to his knees in the middle of the sanctuary.

The old woman who’d leaned over Mary Jane mere minutes ago ran through the double doors on the right. She was instantly shot down, her body jerked as her chest and abdomen were rapidly pierced with bullets. She crumpled next to her husband. Eyes wide with tears, Mary Jane knew she’d never be able to get the image out of her head.

“Now that y’all know we’re serious,” Lyle said, starting up the middle aisle, as Wulf again pointed to the left-side door. He and Mary Jane crawled toward it as Lyle continued. “Wulf, c’mon out. Santo Cruces City needs a new…What was Keller, a chief? Oh, hell, I don’t know. But that could be you.” Lyle rounded the first row of pews from the right and shot at the officer.

A bullet grazed Wulf’s shoulder as he pushed the door open. He cursed. Mary Jane took his hand, and they descended the stone steps. On the freshly cut grass, they ran toward a carport off in the distance, hurrying past a small, empty, dirt parking area for parishioners.

“You’re hurt,” Mary Jane exclaimed as she hastily opened the carport side door. “Where’s your gun?”

“On the nightstand,” he grumbled, going inside.

He tried the truck door as she grabbed a dusty, old .22 caliber hunting rifle off a rack, just a few feet away. Her finger looped inside of the trigger guard, and she pressed the butt plate into perfect formation. Lips tensed, Mary Jane pressed against the wall of the carport, peeked around, and aimed for Lyle since he came charging out of the church first. Blood and bits of flesh gushed from Lyle’s leg. He yelped and crumpled to the floor. Glancing at Wulf as he searched the visor of the truck she asked, “Are the keys inside?”

“Gimme a sec.” Wulf grimaced, bending down in the driver’s seat.

She turned to see another man charge out in front of Jake. She aimed and shot, but the man continued to run. In fear of hitting Jake, she took a deep breath to try again, but the man fell to the ground. She sighed. Jake must’ve shot him. He winked at her. With a rush of relief, she smiled and wiped her brow. “Can I get an update, Wulf?”

“You asked me three seconds ago, MJ. Guess what? I’m not finished hot-wiring this truck!” he snapped.

“Okay, Wulf. I’m sure it hurts your heart to break the law—”

The air emptied from her lungs as a bullet blasted through the doorframe inches from her nose. Sighing deeply, she trained her vision on the important task and fired at the Popeye lookalike. The bullet moved in slow motion and punctured straight between the man’s eyes.

Oh, shit. He’s dead!

Mary Jane didn’t know if she should pat her back on such beautiful marksmanship or condemn herself for murder. After all she’d been through, a little self-praise didn’t hurt. She grinned and continued. To her surprise, six men were sprawled on the ground. All but Jake.

She aimed for the squirming Lyle, when she noticed Beasley peer from the church door.

Come on out, you fat fuck. There’s one here for you too.

She pulled the trigger. It clicked. She turned around toward the gun rack and grabbed a shotgun, just as the Nissan started up. Mary Jane grabbed the shotgun and in a few swift paces she was at the door to the truck. “Slide over. You’re hurt.”

Wulf did. Mary Jane hopped in, tossed him the gun, and yanked the stick shift into reverse.

“What the fuck!” he exclaimed as the truck screeched backward and through the rear wall. Boards of wood broke in their wake.

“I’m saving our asses!” Mary Jane jerked the truck into drive, going over fragments of wood. She turned the wheel sharply, and it sped down the dirt driveway as Jake, the lone, sneaky ranger, headed back to the church to grab fat Beasley.

“What if there was something behind the wall, blocking our path?” When she gave him an incredulous look, he elaborated, “Like a tractor, or fuck it, something else solid.”

“Just wrap up your shoulder,” she argued. “Which damn road leads out of Shit City?”