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"I don't know what you're getting at, Valerie."
Valerie could still hear that Will was annoyed with her. Although he had every right to be, Valerie would have to make up for her harsh words later. Right now, there was a killer to catch.
"Look here," Valerie said, showing the screen on her phone. "There are only two monasteries left where none of the victims had any connection. Two places that have been left untainted by a murder or the murder of someone who went there."
"Do you think someone connected to the other two monasteries is next?" Charlie said, now sounding as though he agreed with Valerie.
"It's as good a pattern as any," Valerie said, certain she was onto something. "We'll need to split up. Will, you go with Sheriff Carter to Ridgewater Monastery, and Charlie and I will head to Whiteheart Monastery. If we can find someone with a link toPost Tenebrus Luxthere, we might just save their life."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
He didn't want to kill within the confines of the monastery, but he knew he had to. If he didn't, the powers that be would not be happy with him. So far, he'd taken a handful of lives, but he'd slowed down now rather than sped up.
First, he'd wanted to catch the woman at the parking lot, but she slipped through his fingers. She was one of the chosen, and since then he'd tried two further times to find an opportunity. But the woman had proven difficult to catch.
He thought he had more time, but just an hour earlier, a vision had come to him. He could not wait any longer for the next victim, and the name of the victim had come to him from the list. And then another immediately afterwards! For the first time, he would kill twice in one night. It was fate that both souls, a man and a woman, would be found in the same place.
The first was to be Father Jonathan Miller, a young priest currently posted to one of two Kerry County Monasteries. The last two that had not been touched by the killer's hands in any way.
It had been simple enough to slip into the monastery grounds. The killer had been there before. He knew that a door in the East gardens was often left open for tradesmen.
It was only a matter of skulking around in the shadows and then slipping inside when no one was around.
Now, he was walking through the quiet halls of the monastery. This one was a place of relative opulence; it did not promote the simplicity and purity of other monasteries in the area. The floors were carpeted with lush fabric, and though electric lighting was used, the lights mimicked candles in their design and appearance.
The killer was sure that Father Miller was somewhere in the building, and so he kept walking, careful to keep his footsteps light. He passed two nuns who were talking quietly and a priest giving instructions to a group of students.
Finally, he saw Father Jonathan Miller walking away from him at the other end of a corridor. The killer followed him silently and quickly, waiting for his chance to pounce.
When it came, the killer moved swiftly, wrapping a cord of rope around the man's throat before he could cry out for help. Father Miller struggled against his grasp, but the killer held tight until the man lay still and lifeless on the ground.
This kill was different. Another vision had come to him. It whispered something. Something terrible. But he had to obey.
The killer took out a knife and carved three words into Father Miller's body:Post Tenebrus Lux—a message from above.
A flash ran through his mind. A vision of the woman he had to kill. A woman he had seen before. He had listened to her horrid words, and it was time for her to pay for them.
With the first kill over, he moved back through the corridors in search of his second victim. But just as he was ready to slip through another door, he saw something through an open window.
A car pulled up outside.
The killer peered through the gap and was horrified at what he saw. Two visitors had arrived at the monastery. He could only see their outline, but they had the air of law enforcement about them, and the killer was now certain that they were there to thwart his plans. He wouldn't let them get in his way. He'd cut them down too.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
"This doesn't look like a monastery," Valerie thought out loud as she and Charlie approached the building. It was white in color, with modern, minimalist architecture, and although it was a large building, it seemed relatively unimposing.
"And what should a monastery look like?" Charlie asked.
"I don't know, like the one we were at earlier. All gargoyles and Gothic windows."
Charlie laughed. "Maybe, but if you ask me, it's nice to go into somewhere that feels a little less imposing. The last two days have had enough of that."
Valerie nodded in agreement just as they both approached the front door. As they did, a bell sounded, and a receptionist appeared to greet them.
"Welcome to the Whiteheart Monastery," she said warmly. "How may I help you?"
Charlie stepped forward into the lobby and Valerie followed. "I'm Agent Carlson, and this is Agent Law with the FBI. We need to talk to whoever runs this monastery. It's imperative that this is done quickly."
