Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (ereader iphone txt) 📖

I stood. “OK. How do you want me to do this?”

He hesitated. A small click echoed around the church as Dehan cocked her weapon. He glanced over in her direction. I spoke again, drawing his attention back. “Come on, Samuel! I keep asking you, but you won’t answer. What do you want me to do?”

I could see his hands were shaking. “She must be excised…”

“How?”

“You are God’s instrument…”

His lip was curling in and he had started sobbing again. I moved toward the altar. “You want me to come up there and do it?”

He nodded miserably. “No tricks… It must be the will of God. You must do His will…”

“I plan to.”

I didn’t rush. I walked deliberately. I climbed the steps to the altar and stood just four or five feet away from him, with Helen on her knees between us, staring at nothing with huge eyes. I held out my hand. “I’ll take it from here.”

He stared feverishly at me. “What are you going to do?”

“Come on, Samuel. You told me I am God’s instrument. Hand her over. I am going to lift her onto the altar, so it will heal and sanctify Helen’s soul and release her from Celeste’s Satanic hold.”

“She must die…”

“I’m coming to that: Then I will plunge the knife into her heart so that Celeste dies and is cast back into hell.”

He started shaking his head. The action was almost frenzied, almost convulsive. He started saying, “No…! No…!” his tone rising at the end, almost like a question.

I held out my hand, aware Dehan must be lining him up. I said, “Come on, Samuel. Let’s get this over with. Let me take it from here.”

His voice was becoming hysterical, verging on a scream. “No…! No…! You’re lying! You’re lying! She’s in you, too! She’s everywhere! She’s everywhere! Oh, God in Heaven, have mercy on me!”

I lunged for him and grabbed his knife arm, pushing Helen away with my foot as I did it. But he was immensely strong and she barely moved. He slashed with his arm and I saw thick blood ooze from her neck. She toppled sideways and lay motionless. I bellowed, “Get a medic!”

Then he hurled me away and I fell, staggering backward down the steps, sending two tall, brass candlesticks crashing to the stone floor. The air was knocked painfully from my lungs and I staggered gasping to my feet as he vaulted the barrier to the altar and ran toward the door, screaming for God to help him. I went after him, hearing his pleas echoing over my head as he plunged through the arched door, out into the rain.

I forced my bruised, aching body to sprint and burst out after him. The rain lashed into my face. Through the churchyard trees, I saw Samuel’s hunched, lanky body racing toward his house. I went after him. He plunged through the gate and up the stairs. I was halfway across the road when he pushed open the door and went in. He slammed it as I followed. I swore under my breath, but I didn’t hesitate. I knew Dehan had skills in the lock-picking department, but there was no time for that. There was no telling what Samuel might do in this frame of mind. I pulled my piece and blew out the lock with a single shot. Then, I kicked the door open and went in.

The house was dark and still. I called out, “Samuel? Where are you?”

There was no reply. I ran through possible locations in my mind: his bedroom, Helen’s room, Celeste’s room…

I remained motionless, listening for the slightest sound. I heard nothing. Then suddenly, I knew where he was, the logical, natural place for him to go. I moved to the living room and opened the door. They were both sobbing like a couple of kids. Samuel was on his knees beside his father’s bed, holding his father’s hand in both of his own. His face was pressed onto it, and he was weeping, begging for his father’s forgiveness.

His father had his face turned away, his other hand clasped over his eyes, and he too was sobbing. I stood in the doorway, watching them and listening to Samuel.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry. She had the devil in her. You know she had the devil in her. You said it yourself, didn’t you? We both knew it.”

The old man had started keening, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes. All he kept saying, over and over, was, “Oh, Jesus, Sammy… Oh, Jesus! Oh, sweet Jesus…!”

Samuel raised his head from the bedcovers, hugging his father’s arm and hand to his chest.

“She was killing us all, Daddy! You know she was! You said it yourself! She was going through us one at a time. She would have killed you. Sure! She’s nearly killed you already! I had to do something! I had to do something!”

The old man looked up at the ceiling. His face was bright where the dull light from the window reflected off the tears that drenched his face.

“Sweet mother of God,” he said. “Forgive me! What have I done to deserve this? What have I done to deserve this cruel punishment for my family? If I have done wrong, sweet Mother! Punish me! Don’t punish my children like this!”

“Daddy, don’t! Please, daddy, don’t!”

I said, “All right! That’s enough crazy ranting from both of you! What the hell is wrong with you, Samuel? You go storming into a church, demanding that an officer of the law murders an innocent woman? Get a grip, will you!”

He got to his feet and pointed a trembling hand at me. “You are an officer of the law. You need to get her out of here.”

“There is an