Confession is good for the soul.
And for the community, too.
Every few nights, Max shows up with a bag of cash.
It scares me to think what he's done to his wife and daughters this time.
Over the years, we've renovated the church with that money. Put in a community center. Added computers, tutors for homework.
Last night, soaked with blood, all torn up. Hands me a briefcase.
“Make it last,” he says. “You'll never see me again.”
I don't even listen. I just put it in the bank, and watch the news as they bring the bodies out.