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The song from my childhood played in my head. The haunting melody only seemed appropriate when it was clanked out on the out-of-tune piano keys of a small country church.
So many songs I’d sung in church were about blood and death and graves.
Those had always been my favorite.
I just hadn’t realized it until recently.
Craig Rogers was my soul-cleansing sacrificial lamb. I’d silenced him, not for the redemption of others. I’d done it purely for myself.
Luke 21:25–28 repeated in my mind.
There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea.
People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken.
At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.
When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.
There was no going back from what I’d done.
Not that I’d want to.
Now I needed to move on to Part B of my plan.
I swallowed hard as I scanned everything around me.
I needed to find the deed to the property. I knew he had it. And if he’d truly put the pieces together . . . that deed would be my death.
I also needed to know if Mr. Know-It-All Craig Rogers had written my name on anything. If so, I needed to destroy the evidence.
Quickly, I closed his laptop—just in case the podcast was still airing. Then I searched the man’s desk. Grabbed some files. His iPad.
I stuffed them in my army-green backpack.
But the deed . . . it wasn’t here.
Where would he have put it?
I had to keep looking.
As I saw the blood on my hands again, panic washed through me.
Was this what the Old Testament greats felt like when they’d made their sacrificial offerings? Had their obedience intermingled with guilt when lives—even those of mere animals—had been taken?
There was no guilt in Christ.
I was washed in the blood of the Lamb. Forgiven. Sanctified.
But shame still tried to emerge from the watery depths of my soul.
There’s no guilt in Christ. I did what I had to do.
I stared at Craig’s lifeless body and felt something swell in my throat.
His eyes were still open.
Almost pleading.
