Oddly enough, Elliott, who had not been inside a church since he was a teenager, encouraged her to pursue her goal. He had supported her in a way that she had never supported him, and as the years went by, she found herself falling in love with her husband all over again. He was her rock, her helpmate, the love of her life. And she thanked the Lord for their marriage every day of her life.
As she squeezed Elliott’s hand, she turned to him and smiled. When he returned her smile, she mouthed the words “I love you.”
Cathy had ridden to the prayer vigil with Lorie, and they had found empty spots on the last pew, several rows behind Patsy and Elliott Floyd, and on the same bench with Seth, her mother and her in-laws. Shortly after Donnie and Missy arrived, Missy managed to squeeze in beside Seth, who sat in the middle of the pew between his grandparents. Donnie dragged a folding chair up directly behind Cathy, who sat at the end of the pew. When he reached out and gently clamped his hand down over her shoulder, she turned and smiled at him.
“Great turnout,” he said. “Must be a quarter of the town here tonight.”
“I doubt anyone from our church would be here if you hadn’t encouraged them to see this not as a religious service, but as a community event.”
“It is a community event,” he said. “It’s a community prayer vigil that just happens to be taking place inside a church building.”
The choir leader came to the microphone and announced that before Reverend Phillips spoke, they wanted everyone to join them in one hymn. Within minutes the chorus and the visitors joined together to sing an old spiritual that had been popular for generations, “Sweet Hour of Prayer.” Halfway through the song, Cathy caught a glimpse of someone in her peripheral vision, someone who had set up a folding chair alongside the end of the pew, right beside her. When she turned to see if she knew the person, her heart skipped a beat. Jackson Perdue, still in his deputy’s garb, smiled at her.
Although he had called her a couple of times every day, she hadn’t seen him since Saturday night, when she had wept in his arms. She understood that he’d been working night and day with the task force, trying his best to find a killer who seemed to be unstoppable. And until this very moment, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him and how badly she’d wanted to see him.
She knew that Seth and her in-laws 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 I might show up.”
Cathy wondered if she had imagined the competitive glare the two men had exchanged.
“Are there any updates on the case?” Cathy asked, hoping to defuse any tension between Jack and Donnie.
“None that I can discuss,” Jack replied.
“I’m sure y’all are doing everything you possibly can,” she said.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Donnie said. “But we really should get going. I imagine, considering this crowd, that traffic is going to be a nightmare leaving here.”
“Call me,” Cathy told Jack, her voice little more than a whisper. A part of her longed to go with him, to forget about everything and everyone except Jack and the way she felt about him.
“Yeah, sure,” Jack said before he walked away.
Donnie came around from the back of the pew and called to his daughter. “Missy, honey, Seth and his mom are riding with us.” Then he turned to Cathy. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
She fell into step alongside Donnie, but she kept track of Jack as he made his way through the horde of people ahead of them. Before they reached the front steps, she saw Jack walking across the road to where his car was parked. He didn’t look back, not even once.