C. Lawrence - Silent Screams

He had an idea. Forcing himself to breathe against the rising panic in his chest, he turned from the door and stumbled out into the street. A little old lady bundled up in a blue woolen coat was pushing a shopping cart loaded with groceries down the street.

"Excuse me!" He was afraid his voice came out too high, too urgent. Not wanting to alarm her, he kept his distance several feet away.

The woman looked up, startled, her body already tightening in response, her eyes apprehensive.

"Excuse me," he repeated more softly, "do you know where the nearest Catholic church is?"

That seemed to relax her a bit, but her eyes were still wary. She wore garish blue eye shadow, and black mascara was caked thickly on her lashes, giving the impression of a wrinkled, wizened Kewpie doll. Then her face spread into a smile, and she lifted one gloved hand from the handle of her shopping cart and gestured north along the street.

"There's one just four blocks up," she said. Her voice was thin, like a shredded nylon cord. "I prefer St. Michael's, of course," she continued, her tone conspiratorial. "Father Paul is very young, you know, but he gives a wonderful sermon."

But Lee was already running in the direction she had indicated.

"Thank you," he called over his shoulder.

By the time he reached the church he was out of breath, more from fear than exertion.

The church was a heavy, neo-Gothic monstrosity, built during an era when labor was cheap and building materials plentiful. The main chapel loomed over the street, and various gray stone outbuildings sprawled from beneath its buttresses like chicks under the wings of a great stone brooding hen. A clunky sign, made out of the same gray masonry, sat on a little square of grass outside the church.

Welcome to St. Mary's Come Worship With Us And Celebrate the Glory of God

Lee dashed up the shallow front steps, but the heavy wooden front doors were locked. He raced around to the side of the church, where a single door faced the side street. When he turned the brass handle, the latch clicked, and the door opened inward.

He pushed open the heavy oak door. It was dark and quiet inside, the only light coming from flickering votive candles along the far side of the chapel. A deep animal instinct warned Lee that he was in danger, but his feelings for Kathy propelled him forward.

He crept forward into the semidarkness of the chapel. The air was heavy with bayberry incense. He felt his breathing thicken, and tried to clear his throat without making any sound. He thought he heard a scurrying sound at the back of the church, and he froze, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

He took a few steps toward the noise, and a strange sensation crept from his fingertips up his forearms, as if ants were running up his arms. He shivered and took a few steps toward the choir loft, the burnished mahogany pews glimmering in the dim light.

As he rounded the corner of the pews, he heard a rustling sound over his right shoulder. He wheeled toward it, but too late. A flash of light blinded him; then a heavy object crashed down on the back of his head. He felt himself falling, and then the blackness closed in around him, cradling him in its dark embrace.

He awoke with the feeling that he was floating above the ground, but as his body regained sensation he realized that he was tied to the heavy wooden cross above the altar. He struggled to move, but he was bound firmly. His arms ached, and his head throbbed. Kathy was stretched out over the altar, and a dark figure in a black robe was bent over her. She was wearing a long white dress. He recognized it as a choir robe.

"Stop it!" Lee cried out as loudly as he could to the figure bending over her. "Leave her alone!"

The man looked up, and Lee saw the face of his mentor and surrogate father, John Paul Nelson.

Nelson smiled up at him. "Nice touch, the robes, don't you think? I found them hanging in the vestibule."

Lee looked down at his mentor through bleary eyes. "Please, don't. I–I understand you."

"Oh, please! No one 'understands' me!"

"No, you're wrong-I do, I swear it."

"Nice try, Lee." Nelson's voice was harsh, the vowels twisted into diphthongs, consonants sharp as the prongs of a garden rake.

Lee pulled on the ropes binding him, trying to wrest free.

"Why did you have to ignore me?" Nelson said. "I begged you-begged you-not to take on this case! I tried to protect you. Even all that rubbish about your sister-that was to throw you off-but you just had to persist, didn't you? My God, I never wanted it to come to this!"

Lee craned his neck to peer at Kathy, trying to see if she was still breathing.

"Oh, she's still alive," Nelson said. "I don't kill them all at once, you know…press and release, press and release. You'd be surprised how long you can keep someone alive throughout slow strangulation. But then you know that, don't you? You know a lot of things about me-except the things that count."

"Why? Why did you do it?"

"Well, my dear old dad was a member of the Westies, after all. You could say violence runs in our family. If you'd bothered to actually profile me, you'd see I have a tidy little history of violent behavior. I'm just very good at hiding it."

"But the women…why…?"

"Oh, come on, Lee! Haven't you ever wondered what it felt like? Not just to study them from a distance-but to actually be a killer?"

Nelson's face was eager, his eyes shining in a way Lee had never seen before.

"Why did you have to kill Eddie?"

Nelson snorted. "That's obvious, isn't it? He was getting too close." He sighed. "I sent you so many warnings, and you ignored them all."

Lee groaned and struggled to free himself, but the ropes binding him were firmly tied.

Nelson watched him. "You know, I never imagined that sailing class at summer camp would be quite so useful," he said. "It just goes to show that you never know what's going to come in handy. I learned quite a few nifty knots. Of course, you have to have a mind for it. Fortunately, I do have a knack-for knots, puzzles, mazes of all sorts."

He looked up at Lee with an expression of mock sympathy. "I thought you were a puzzle solver yourself, but you seem to have come up a bit short this time, I'm afraid."

Lee tried again to wrench himself free, but the ropes only cut more deeply into his flesh. His head was pounding, and his whole body ached.

"Save your strength," Nelson said. "There's no point in wearing yourself out."

A drop of sweat from Lee's forehead fell on Kathy's face, and her eyelids fluttered.

"Come to think of it, what's a Christ figure without a little stigmata?" Nelson said, and seized the ornate Greek cross on its long pole. He raked the sharp edges savagely across Lee's ribs, slashing a wound in his right side. Lee couldn't help crying out in pain.

"There, that's better," Nelson said. "More like the real Christ on the cross."

Lee groaned and fought to remain conscious.

"Does that hurt?" Nelson snarled. "I didn't invite you here, you know."

"Just-let-her-go," Lee pleaded, the words forcing themselves from his throat. "I won't turn you in-I won't tell anyone."

Nelson snorted. "And if I believe that, I'll bet you have a bridge in London for sale too."

He crossed himself and kneeled at the altar.

"Bless this act of deliverance, oh Heavenly Father, as I deliver the soul of your servant into your care."

He looked up at Lee, who was running out of strength, panting from the effort of trying to free himself.

"I don't believe in God, of course, but I like saying the words all the same."

Lee felt the blackness threatening to close in again.

"You know, you should feel honored to witness her transformation," Nelson said, his voice sarcastic. "That's what he thought. Poor Samuel-what a nutcase. He thought he was saving them from sin-sending them to God. Poor deluded idiot."