Allison Brennan - Sudden Death

He hoped the woman found what she needed, but feared her demons were too great to battle alone. The encounter was odd enough that Francis walked through his church, checked the tabernacle, the altar, the sacristy. Everything looked in order.

“Francis,” he muttered to himself, “why are you so apprehensive?” It was the woman, he decided, the odd woman who wanted to confess, then left without forgiveness. Usually, those returning to the church for redemption had committed what they felt was an unpardonable sin, and had some sort of brush with death where they began to search their souls.

“I don’t know what she did, Father, but please have mercy on her.”

He put the woman from his mind, putting the lost sheep in God’s hands.

On his way out of the church, Francis walked past the prayer candles. None were lit. The sight should have enraged him-why would she blow them out? But instead, he felt a deep, deep sadness. And fear.

Ethan slapped her. Again. Three times. Tears of rage stained his face. Karin had betrayed him.

She pushed back at him. “Don’t ever hit me!”

He grabbed her hair, pulled her to him. He didn’t see the woman who’d saved him. Instead, he saw fangs and horns and laughing eyes. She wanted to hurt him.

“You changed the plans! You were supposed to bring him around to the house. We had it planned!” He was a grown man, but he sounded like a petulant brat. He shook her to prove he was a man. Inside, he was hollow. He watched from above. Was that him?

Kill her.

No. No no! Ethan needed her. His heart raced. He was going to die, his heart was going to run away without him. He turned his head, saw the beating organ running on legs down the street. Was that his heart? He blinked. Nothing. There was nothing. It was the middle of the night, there was nothing. Dark, empty, black.

“You didn’t tell me he was a priest,” she said.

What was she talking about? “I don’t understand.”

She pulled away from him, took two steps back. “Dammit, Ethan! I can’t kill a priest. I can’t. I can’t.”

“But he hurt me.”

His voice was a whisper; he didn’t know he had spoken.

She put her hands on his shoulders. “Maybe he is one of the few who is sorry.”

Ethan’s laugh sounded like the growl of a lunatic hyena, a combination of psychotic glee and rage. It stopped as suddenly as it began. That wasn’t him laughing, was it? Yes. No. He didn’t exist anymore. Did he?

“You know what they did to me.”

She caressed his face. He didn’t feel her hand, but then she skimmed her nails down his neck.

“I can’t kill a priest.”

“What if he’s sticking it into little boys? Could you kill him then?”

“That’s different.”

“How do you know he’s not?”

“If you take him out, I’m done.”

“You can’t be done. That’s not how it works.” Don’t leave me. Don’t desert me. They’ll hurt me again.

He was shaking uncontrollably. “We agreed,” he whined.

“This was my plan in the first place!” she shouted. “The whole thing! I gave it to you, you’d never have done anything but complain and try to kill yourself!”

He didn’t need the reminder. She always told him the same thing. I saved you. You’re mine. You’re mine and we’ll find vengeance. You deserve it. Everything will be fine when they’re dead. Everything will be perfect.

“I know.” His voice was a squeak.

“I always have a backup plan. We’ll do Bartleton now.”

“We have to do both.”

“No.”

“You’re the one who hates changing plans midstream.”

“I learned something while staking out the bar earlier,” she said.

“What?”

“Bartleton is a drinker. He’ll be out of it, at least enough to slow his reaction time.” She glanced at her watch. “We don’t have much time. He’ll be walking home from the bar any minute, and we need to get into place.”

It felt to Ethan like she was manipulating him. He was confused and panicking. He needed to kill the priest. If they changed the plan, nothing would be right again. It felt out of order. Something was missing. An itch he couldn’t scratch.

Karin watched the psycho closely as he dug his fingernails deep into his palms. He was so close to the edge, but she couldn’t lose him now. He had to finish teaching her. When she’d used Ethan’s techniques on Perry, she’d failed. She couldn’t afford to fail when it mattered. She wouldn’t. She needed more practice. She’d use Bartleton. They didn’t have many more on the list.

While Ethan was thinking, she remained silent. She would not kill Frank Cardenas. When she looked in his eyes, she didn’t see a predator. She didn’t see a killer. She saw redemption.

Fool. He’s a good liar. They’re all liars.

Not him, not the priest.

“There’s always hope, child.”

She bit back a cry. It was as if Father Michael had whispered in her ear.

“I want to die,” Ethan whimpered.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you kill me?”

Because you’re a lousy teacher! “I love you, Ethan.”

His face softened. “What do we do now?”

“Bartleton.”

“I can hurt him.”

“Yes. But you need to let me do it this time. Show me, Ethan. Teach me right this time.”

“I promise.”

She didn’t know if he would or wouldn’t. His psychosis was a minefield. She had to tiptoe carefully.

But she’d saved the priest. Maybe it would buy her time.

Ethan smiled unpleasantly.

“This will be fun, right?”

“Right.”

Fun. This wasn’t fun anymore, it was work. She shivered as they walked in the shadows away from the church, toward Lawrence Bartleton’s house.

Karin did not look back.

Loud knocking startled Megan from a deep sleep. For a split second, she opened her eyes and forgot she was at her loft. Mouse jumped from her lap with an irritated meow and papers and photographs slid to the floor. The privacy blinds in her fourth-floor loft apartment were only half drawn; dawn crept through Sacramento to the east. She’d fallen asleep in her living room for the second night in a row.

The pounding resumed and she walked to her door, looking through the peephole and seeing the young attorney who lived across the hall. He worked in Matt’s office and had been the one who told Matt about the new lofts when Megan moved to the city four years ago.

She opened the door. “Jesse.”

He was dressed for work. “Sorry to wake you up, Agent Elliott, but I have an early court hearing and this came for you yesterday. I signed for it.”

He handed her an overnight envelope. It was so light Megan wondered if anything was inside. She moved it right to left. Something small and thin shifted to the side. The label came from a shipping company out of Reno, Nevada. She didn’t think she knew anyone in Reno, at least no one well enough that they would have her home address.

“Thanks, Jesse. I needed to get up anyway.”

“I didn’t want to leave it on the doorstep in case it was valuable. They claim this is a secure building.” He shook his head. There had been two robberies in the past year.

“I appreciate it, Jesse. And don’t call me Agent Elliott. I told you that.”

“Can’t help it,” he answered, sheepishly. “Gotta go. Bye.”

She closed the door and yawned widely. She started coffee, fed Mouse, who made his hunger loudly known, then picked up the envelope again. Reno … She glanced at the return address, squinted to read the small handwritten letters. Sacramento. 4800 Broadway.