“Nine hundred and seventy-five. Nine hundred and seventy-six. Nine hundred and seventy-seven.”
Kirk sat underneath a loading bay in the alley between a furniture upholstery shop and La Iglesia del Espiritu Santo, smoking a cigarette and counting bricks.
La Iglesia del Espiritu SantoGilberto had been inside the church forever, and it was getting boring in this alley. The healer would have to come out sometime, and when he did, Kirk would end this mission, get paid, and find something, anything better to do than sitting here.
He couldn’t read a book in this darkness, so he counted the bricks on the side of the church. Gave him something to do.
So far, he’d reached nine hundred and seventy-seven. He squinted at a black and white mural of Jesus wearing a crown of thorns, and that was where
