Calista

Chapter 1

The Devil was working overtime. At least that's what Detective Mark Jessup thought as he took in the small corpses strewn about St. Anthony's Church. What had meant to be a replica of the manger where Jesus had been born was now a mass graveyard of paper mâché animals. He quickly made the sign of the cross before turning his hazel eyes towards his partner, Detective Bree Wade.

"I talked to the fire marshal and he agrees with us. It looks like the truck came in through there." Still holding her small notepad, Bree pointed to where the double doors of the church had once stood. "And came barreling through here before hitting the pews and crashing into the altar. The engine must have caught on fire and exploded. We're lucky it wasn't a bigger explosion."

"Lucky? Tell that to the families of the people who died here tonight." Detective Jessup shook his head in disgust as he tried his best not to stare too long at any of the bodies. "All they were trying to do was practice for the Christmas mass tomorrow." He waved at an officer entering the church. "Did you get rid of the crowd outside?"

"No, sir. Channel six is still out there interviewing people. We have men ready to keep them out of the church but I think the town is planning on having a vigil here tonight," the officer answered before continuing his work.

"Damn small-town folk. Why can't they just mourn at home?" Mark swallowed the bile threatening to come up as he spotted an arm no longer attached to its owner. He could deal with murder and he'd seen plenty of dead bodies throughout his career. Still, there was something about seeing a lifeless hand with innocent little fingers attached that made his stomach turn.

"You alright?" Bree asked, concern heavy in her voice. "I know you hate cases involving kids."

Mark felt a wave of self-disgust wash over him. He had been a detective for years. He reminded himself that death was not a reason to be acting like a cop who was wet behind the ears-- not even a child's death. He pushed his shoulders back and walked past his partner, ignoring her question.

Bree frowned. "Well, if you're going to be an ass about it, forget I cared." 

Mark glanced at the charred crucifix hanging at the front of the church before clearing his throat. "This looks like a damned massacre. Did forensics already come in and take a look at the driver? Or what's left of him? What kind of sick bastard does something like this? Hell of a way to celebrate the birth of Christ." He was rambling which wasn't like him.

"I thought you were Catholic, Jessup," Bree said, taking shallow breaths. The pungent odor of burnt flesh was beginning to overwhelm the air around them.

"So?"

"So isn't taking the Lord's name in vain a sin or something? Aren't you afraid you'll go to Hell?" Bree started to laugh but inhaled a bit too deeply and coughed. "Jesus Christ...the smell," she muttered under her breath.

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" Mark asked, referring to her earlier rebuke.

"Is that supposed to be a black person joke?" Bree asked, an eyebrow rising against her smooth ebony complexion.

Mark held up two hands in front of his chest. "Not at all. More like a bad joke."

"Stop trying to be a comedian and stick to your day job, Jessup. The dead don't want to hear your jokes...especially bad ones."

"You got it." Mark made his way to the back of the church.

Bree looked at her notes before calling out to an officer taking photographs. "How many bodies did you count?"

"Seven kids and four adults not including the driver," the officer answered.

"If the driver wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself," Mark threatened.

"Did you just threaten to commit murder? Now I know that would be breaking a commandment," Bree said.

"It'd be worth it." Mark made his way towards the crucifix.

"Well you never know," Bree said,  staring into the remains of the truck. "Maybe he had a partner you can go after instead. There's got to be a reason why he did this."

"He was probably drunk or high. There's never a good reason to drive through a church," Mark muttered.

To the left of the crucifix were two large statues fallen on their sides. He could see human hair peeking out from beneath one of the statues. Blonde and brunette. He looked back at the officer Bree had talked to earlier and shouted, "It looks like we have a human sandwich over here! Did you count these two bodies as well?"

The officer's eyes widened. "No. I'm sorry, Detective Jessup. We didn't see them. I was told to just check the area by the altar."

Mark mumbled something about newbies needing to do their jobs right when he heard a soft groan coming from beneath the statues. He quickly pushed one of the statues aside to see two severely burned arms cradled against a child's back. Mark leaned forward and checked for the child's pulse.

Nothing.

He gently lifted the young boy, the burnt arms falling against their owner, to reveal a petite brunette with singed hair and a face damaged beyond recognition. A clear outline of where the child had lain was marked by the absence of burns.

Settled against her clavicle was a delicate necklace that bore a woman's name.

Calista.

Something foreboding tickled at the back of his mind. The name was familiar. Where had he heard it before? He shook his head and placed the boy next to the woman.

"We've got two more bodies over here!" Mark called out. He squatted down and stretched his hand towards the woman's neck. He was about to feel for a pulse when her eyes suddenly opened and two bright blue orbs stared back at him.

He lost his balance and fell back, his rear end hitting the floor. Her words were scratchy and almost inaudible but he still managed to hear them.

"Help me."