Silent Killer Page 0,157

Jack removed his Smith & Wesson from his hip holster, checked it and returned it to the holster. When he got out, he surveyed the area. On a Monday afternoon, this section of town was quiet, with only an occasional passing car. The parking lot was 90 percent empty, and he suspected the few cars there weren’t related to any church business.

Finding the front doors standing wide open, Jack walked inside the vestibule and looked around, but didn’t see a soul. Lorie had told him that her cousin’s office was in the basement, so he quickly located the stairs and headed down, all the while hoping he would discover that he had no reason to be concerned about Cathy.

Cathy stared up at the girl who stepped around her in order to reach John Earl. She stood over him, smiling down at him. Acting as subtly as possible, so as not to bring attention to herself, Cathy managed to bend her knees, bringing her bound-together ankles up enough to propel her body into a creeping motion. She slithered slowly, quietly, carefully. Her purse lay within reach, there on the floor, to the side of the desk. Her cell phone was in her purse, resting securely in its own little open pocket. But even if she could get to her purse, how could she, with her hands bound behind her, open the purse and remove her cell phone? And would there be any service since there had been none earlier?

“Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end. God judgeth the righteous, and God is angry with the wicked every day,” she recited the Scriptures to John Earl, a passage from the seventh chapter of Psalms. “God has judged you, John Earl Harper, and as His angel of death, I have come here to punish you for your sins.”

John Earl tried to speak, but his words came out a mumbled plea to his daughter as his eyes filled with tears.

With her attention focused on her father, she paid no attention to Cathy, leaving her free to back up against her purse and grab it with her fingertips. She pushed the purse between her bound hands and struggled with the magnetic catch.

“I believed in you,” his daughter said. “I trusted you above all others. I thought you would never disappoint me, never hurt me.”

Cathy prized her purse open and then slid her fingers inside to search for her phone.

“Oh, Daddy, Daddy…I loved you.” A fierce, animal-like growl came from deep in her throat. “Damn you to hell!”

Cathy glanced toward John Earl. His daughter stood over him with the open gasoline can in one hand. Dear God, no! No! Cathy’s mind screamed as she watched Charity Harper pour gasoline all over John Earl.

“No, Charity, don’t do it!” Seth screamed.

Charity lifted her head and turned around, shifting her gaze from the unopened lighter she held in her hand to Seth and Missy standing in the doorway to the minister’s private office.

“Go away,” Charity said. “Do not interfere with the work of the Lord.”

“This isn’t the Lord’s work,” Seth told her. “This is the Devil’s work. How can you even think about killing your own father?”

Charity laughed, the sound frighteningly maniacal. “That’s just it, you see. John Earl Harper isn’t my father, just as Mark Cantrell wasn’t your father.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but whatever you’re thinking, you have to know that your dad—that John Earl—hasn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t having an affair with—”

Charity screamed. “Don’t say that woman’s name!”

Seth’s heart stopped for a millisecond. He glanced down at where his mother lay on the floor, her eyes pleading with him to be cautious, to do nothing to send Charity completely over the edge. He nodded to his mom so she’d know that he understood.

“You don’t want to do this,” Missy said. “Whatever you think your father has done, it can’t be as bad as what my father did.”

Charity glared at Missy. “That’s just it. What my father—my real father—did was every bit as bad and then some. At least your father didn’t get you pregnant, did he?”

“What are you saying?” Seth asked. “Are you pregnant?”

Charity screeched with laughter, the sound utterly hysterical. “Not me, stupid. My mother. My grandfather raped her over and over again from the time she was a little girl, and dear, devout, good Christian woman that she is, my Grandmother Long didn’t do anything to stop him.”

“Yes, I know,” Missy said, drawing Charity’s attention directly to