Closing the cover, she stared down at the reason for her life on the run. The small body of her daughter, Raine, sleeping on the hotel bed, smeared dried chocolate ice cream on her rosy lips. Her first words tangled in a two-year old languageI am Christ.Father Mc Kenna tossed the folder down on his desk letting his eyes remain on the rain splattered window. Weighing out the common denominators, trying to justify and dispel what he was learning on his trip from the Vatican to the Un...