“I didn’t know, Adam. I swear I didn’t. He said he liked you but that you were . . . difficult. I said I told him that at the start.” Sally-Ann looks up at him. “Sorry. Anyway, he said he needed to see you again on neutral territory, like the night you met, that it was better that way.”

“And you never thought anything was wrong with that? In light of what we found in his house?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know, maybe. It’s just . . . he has this way about him. You sort of feel you can trust him. He’s always been like that, actually, overly charming. But when I saw you together in the club last night, and I saw him put that pill in your glass—”

“What?”

“I think he slipped you something. I asked him about it and he said you’d asked him for it. It was just an E, something to take the edge off, make you relax.”

“You went along with this?”

“Of course not! I tried asking you about it, but you were already wasted. You told me to piss off and stop bothering you. You said some pretty hurtful things actually.”

Tyler can’t remember any of that. “He spiked me?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have left you, but I was upset and—wait, Adam, where are you going? Please! Don’t leave it like this . . .”

day six

The Church of the Company of Jesus, Santiago, Chile, 1863

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The Church of the Company of Jesus, Santiago, Chile, 1863

God’s house is no refuge.

On December 8, 1863, the townsfolk of Santiago gathered for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. The church had been decorated for the fiesta: the walls draped in veils of gossamer-thin fabric, the eaves hung with oil lamps that lit every darkened corner, helping to speed the prayers of the congregation on their way. Everyone wanted to attend, but room in the church was limited, forcing many of the townsmen to give up their places to make room for the women and children.

How did it come to pass? A slight breeze, perhaps. A veil blown into a naked flame. And suddenly the scene was changed. The congregation turned to flee. The women, dressed in their yards of linen and giant hooped skirts, were caught and entwined in their own clothing. They began to fall. The side doors to the church had been locked to make more room in the aisles for the congregation. The women and children had only one way out, through each other. The bodies piled up in the doorway, and those trapped behind in the flames pushed all the harder. They clamored and fought with each other, sealing their own fates. The men outside, their would-be rescuers, could only stand and watch in horror as their loved ones burned. Three thousand people were burned alive that day. It could only have been God’s mercy when the walls of the church began to collapse in the heat.