Silent Killer Page 0,102
expected her to leave here and go directly to Wednesday night services with them, and that had been her original plan. But now she wished she could slip away with Jack.
She listened as Reverend Dewan Phillips spoke to the crowd. The man was a spellbinding orator, the type who could charm the birds from the trees.
But he was full of himself. A blowhard. He claimed to give God all the praise, but she knew he lied, knew that in his heart all he cared about was himself. Since it was so obvious to her that this man possessed an evil heart, she didn’t understand why everyone couldn’t see him for what he was.
Is he to be punished next, Lord? Guide me so that I will know Thy will.
Taking the opportunity to search the crowd while the audience was mesmerized by this silver-tongued devil, she sought out the visiting clergymen and was surprised to see so many different denominations represented. Even Rabbi Tischler and Father Benedict were here. Black and white, Jewish, Catholic and Protestant, the clergymen—and clergywomen, counting Patsy Floyd from the Methodist Church—of Dunmore had come here tonight to pray for the life of Bruce Kelley. Didn’t they know that they were praying for a soul already lost to Satan? There was a special place in hell for people such as he, and very soon he would join Mark Cantrell, Charles Randolph and Brian Myers for the eternal punishment he deserved. They had all been false prophets, men professing to do good works, proclaiming they were chosen of God.
Liars! Blasphemers!
The Bible said, in the seventh chapter of Matthew, “Beware of the false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.”
Her gaze fell on Patsy Floyd, an attractive middle-aged woman who exuded warmth and caring. But was she truly the saint people believed her to be?
Show me the way. Point out the evil ones among us.
There were others besides Dewan Phillips.
A voice inside her head whispered a name. She scanned the audience so others would not suspect anything out of the ordinary when her gaze settled briefly on the demon sitting at the back of the church in one of the many folding chairs.
Yes, of course. It was quite obvious to her now who the next false prophet was that God wished for her to punish. A man who committed the most grievous sins, a man she should have already sent straight to the fires of hell.
How many unholy men of God were rapists? Pedophiles? Adulterers? Far too many. All of them needed to be wiped from the face of the earth. It was her duty to act on God’s behalf as His angel of death and execute the wicked.
I am blessed to have been chosen.
My life should have been an abomination, and if not for Thy great benevolence, it would have been. But in choosing me as an instrument of Thy punishment, I have been saved.
The prayer vigil ran over by a good fifteen minutes, which left the visitors who attended Wednesday night church services elsewhere approximately forty-five minutes to make their way through the crowd, get to their vehicles and drive to their own churches. Since she was sitting on one of the back pews, Cathy surmised that she should be able to exit the building fairly quickly, but once she stood and looked behind her, she saw dozens of people standing up, all the way from the final pew to the open doorway. And the crowd spilled outside onto the front steps and into the churchyard.
“There must be at least four or five hundred people here,” Jack said as he cupped Cathy’s elbow. “Did you drive or ride with Lorie?”
“I rode with Lorie.”
“I could give you a ride home.”
“Thank you, but I’m going from here to Wednesday night services,” she told him. “I’d planned to ride with Seth and his grandparents.”
Jack nodded.
“If you’d like to go to church with me…” she offered.
“I’ll pass.” He eased his hand away from her arm.
Donnie Hovater spoke directly to Jack. “Hello, Deputy Perdue. Good to see you and Sheriff Birkett and the other lawmen here tonight.”
Jack didn’t reply, just nodded again.
“Cathy, would you and Seth like a ride to church?” Donnie asked.
“I…uh…” She glanced at her son, who had his arm draped around Missy Hovater’s shoulders. “Yes, thank you. I’m sure that will be fine with J.B. and Mona.”
“We’d love to see you at church again,” Donnie said to Jack.
“Yeah, sure. You never know when