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“I hope so. You’re off?” he asked.
“Yeah. Keep an eye on those guys in the holding cells. Two sleazebags together in the same place. Could get ugly.”
“We’ve got them covered, but where are you going now? It’s nearly eleven PM.”
Ella channeled her new least favorite book. A book she hadn’t even read but still despised with all her being. “All that a man hath he will give for his life.”
The sheriff looked at her blankly. “Okay.”
Just before she left, she turned to Sheriff Hale and said, “I’ve got an appointment with God.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The man stepped out of the shadows, repositioned the blade in his jacket then checked his reflection in a car window. All he saw was a silhouette in the shape of a human being, but he was much more than that now. He was God’s most beloved child, a man of supreme righteousness. Blameless and upright. A dedicated servant of the lord. It was a calling he welcomed with open arms, and he only wished this bestowed privilege would have come much sooner.
Before this, his life was as uneventful as a cloudless sky. A creature of unremarkable qualities, trapped in a quicksand of monotony. He thought he was content with his daily rituals, more than happy to stay on the beaten path until his dying day. His life was a canvas of the ordinary, until one day the extraordinary beckoned.
One morning, he’d readied himself for work then said goodbye to his wife and children. They’d been sitting at the kitchen table eating Frosted Flakes. An odd choice of breakfast, he thought, because they usually opted for eggs or pancakes or strawberries. But of course, he and his wife had barely been on conversational terms for a while, but he smiled and endured the marriage for the sake of appearances.
Nine hours later when he returned, his family and all of their belongings had vanished. Every object that didn’t have his name etched had been uprooted, dissolved into the ether. A note on the kitchen table detailed all of the bills that his wife used to pay, along with the instructions to pay them. But weirdly, the note wasn’t written in her hand.
Searching for answers, he walked down by the river behind his house. He fantasized about jumping into the murky waters and accepting his wrongdoings as a poor husband and worse father, but something floating on the surface caught his attention.
It was a simple box of Frosted Flakes.
He thought nothing of it for a while, but then he realized why his efforts to track down his missing family had been in vain. They’d been taken by a higher power. They were no longer a part of the earth’s fabric, instead waiting for him in the clouds of heaven.
The thought seemed absurd at first, but more and more signs appeared over the ensuing months. People began shunning him, as though his hand-picked destiny was something he could control. He soon lost his job and was forced out onto the streets since he couldn’t afford his four-bedroom house on his paltry warehouse salary. Out there amongst the elements, more signs came that this was all part of a bigger plan. Graffitied walls pushed him to new places. Meetings with equally impoverished souls forced him to seek out certain sanctuaries, certain towns. He ended up in the mountains of Alfa Creek, and it was here that God spoke directly to him.
In a culvert outside Saint Paul’s Church, the lord appeared in his all glory and told him he’d been chosen to deliver his message. His punishments were a test of his own, and surviving them would lead to greater pastures. To flourish, he would need to channel God’s will and test others with similar hardships.
The Bible was his canvas. A blade he’d purchased from a fellow homeless man was his paintbrush. By night, he had nothing to do but read the Holy Scripture from start to finish, and there was one book above all else that really spoke to him: the Book of Job.
That was how his mission began.
But unfortunately, few people seemed to be as virtuous as him. Most people upheld faith on the surface, but when the time came to really prove their worth to God, their faith was nowhere to be found. To them, devotion was disposable. A virtue to be discarded when they fell on hard times.
Not to him. He was the devout messenger that God could rely on. No matter what the world threw at him, he’d remain blameless and upright. Just like these people, he’d lost everything he loved too, but
Before him, the house loomed ominously in the night, shrouded in an inky blackness that made entry much easier than it should be. The woman inside, he knew her well. After all, he was the author of her pain. Months of watching and waiting had resulted in full knowledge of her life, her schedule, her gradual descent into the fiery pits of despair. She was test subject number four, but this one was a little different than the others. Tonight’s subject had never been particularly close to God, but he hoped that her suffering might help her welcome the lord into her life.
He placed one hand on the door handle, squeezed and opened it up. Simple. A little too simple.
Into the hallway, he listened closely to the sounds of the still house, familiarizing himself with its layout. Nothing stirred, the downstairs lights were off. The owner was asleep. Even simpler still.
He edged up the stairwell, readied his blade.
The final test was a heartbeat away.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Ella sprinted towards the house on Wildermoore Avenue, barely able to keep steady from the adrenaline tsunami crashing through her system. She’d called Ripley on the way here and told her everything, but Ripley was around six miles away. Not enough time for them to both make the trip. She’d have to do this one alone.
The house was small and quaint on a semi-residential street, about eight houses in total, spaced out around fifty feet from one another. There was a large back, easily accessible back area and a balcony on the first floor. More than enough ways to get in, more than enough solitude for a killer to strike.
She raised her fist to bang on the door then immediately thought better of it. It was nearing midnight, and if there was a killer inside then he’d strike quickly and maybe escape through a different exit. Instead, she rested her fist on the glass and gently pushed. An icy breeze blew a mass of raven hair across her face as she tried to shake off the sudden chill.
Why would someone leave their door ajar at midnight?
