Coletti was starting to get a bead on the voice. It seemed to be coming from just beyond a wall fifteen feet in front of him and slightly to the right.

Coletti crawled out from behind the freezer and ran to the wall. He was breathing hard now, but he knew he couldn’t rest, so he leaned against the wall with his gun in front of him, and asked a question to keep him talking. “Why did you call me here if you weren’t going to let me see you?”

Silence.

“Where are you?”

No response.

Coletti took a deep breath and slid along the wall until he reached the edge. He raised his gun and held it in front of him with both hands. Slowly, carefully, he peered around the corner. Then all hell broke loose.

A two-by-four smacked against his forehead, and he saw a flash of white light as a stream of thick red blood ran down his face. He managed to fire one shot before another swing of the two-by-four knocked the gun from his hand.

Coletti dove for the gun, but a kick landed in his midsection, flipping him onto his back. Through rapidly clouding vision, he saw a booted foot rear back for a second kick, and he managed to grab it and pull his assailant to the ground.

The figure moved quickly, rolling away from Coletti and reaching for his weapon. Coletti pulled the dark figure back and managed to retrieve the gun. Rolling onto his back, the detective held the weapon out in front of him, but he couldn’t see.

His adversary got up in a flash and disappeared into the recesses of the factory.

Coletti groaned and got to his feet. He walked slowly past the wall and into the factory’s next room, wiping his bloody forehead on his sleeve.

“Show yourself!” Coletti shouted, his breath coming heavy and fast as he ducked behind another old freezer.

Something ran behind him and he turned to find a scurrying rat. He turned again as something much larger ran in front of him. A drop of water fell from the ceiling and he jumped as something hard struck the freezer. The burst of movement left Coletti disoriented. His reaction left the angel amused.

Laughter floated through the room like a whisper on the wind. Then the words came in that gravelly voice he’d heard so often before. “Do you remember the first time you came to the cathedral?” the voice said.

Coletti’s mind flashed images from his time as a patrolman: a little girl covered in blood; a green-eyed, bearded homeless man; a bathroom off the entrance to the sanctuary.

“Thirty-one years ago,” the voice said. “A little girl was attacked in the bathroom, and you were the patrolman who answered the call. The man who hurt that child was never brought to justice.”