CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Imelda Coliya, Madeline Franks, and Stella Marchand. Three women dead, and the only connection is their link to the church,” said Ghost. “Someone attending that church knows something or is responsible for this.”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt they were all killed by the same person. All died of stab wounds. All were small except for large breasts,” said Gaspar.

“Do we really think that has anything to do with all of this?” asked Nine. Gaspar shrugged, shaking his head.

“No clue, but it was put out there, and I’m just trying to find something to help me understand all of this.”

“Can’t understand madness,” said Teddy. The men turned to stare at their senior statesman. Well past one hundred now, he was slowing down but still relatively healthy. “If you don’t mind me putting in my two cents, I think you should look into all these women’s pasts. Find out if they had something more in common.”

“What do you mean, Teddy?” asked Ian.

“Well, we know that Stella was a lady of the night,” he said, using the old-fashioned term. “Maybe the other two were as well.”

“They weren’t,” said Code. “It’s a great idea, Teddy, but we checked that. Madeline worked at the strip club, but she didn’t turn tricks. She danced topless to make a living, but that’s all. Imelda finished high school, married her sweetheart, and raised a daughter.”

“Damn,” muttered Teddy. “I was hoping there’d be a connection.”

“There is,” said Code. “They all went to that church. We just have to find what it is that connects them further. The problem is that the church congregation is so small that everyone knows everyone. So, in theory, they’re all suspects.”

“You guys need to get down to the coroner’s office,” said Sly, stepping into the room. “We’ve got another victim, and this one is a man.” Gaspar stared at the other men, shaking his head.

“Well, fuck me. That blows every theory out of the water.”

“Why are you doing this?” gasped the man, trying to catch his breath from the pain ripping through his lungs.

“Evil has to be wiped from this earth, and you are evil.”

“I’m not evil! Stop saying that! I sell cars for a living.”

“Used cars, and you don’t tell everyone the truth about them, do you? Don’t answer that. I already know that you don’t. You sold a woman a car two weeks ago and told her it had a brand-new engine. You lied. That engine was old and faulty, and that poor woman died from your lies.”

“God, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I just sell the cars. I don’t do the engine work. I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. I’ll make this right.”

“How? How could you possibly make it right? You can’t bring her back, and you can’t correct your past mistakes. No. No, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to die.”

“Please! I’m begging you! I can give you money, or I can owe you favors. I’ll do anything. I have a wife and son at home. They rely on me.”

“You should have thought of that sooner.”

The man watched in horror as his tormentor lit the fire and placed the iron in the flames. He was going to brand him. Dear God, he was going to brand him. He knew the pain that would inflict upon him, and all he could do was weep at the thought of it.

Just when he thought he’d pull the brand from the fire, he turned and rammed a knife into his abdomen, then pulled it out and slammed it back into his side between his ribs. The air from his body expelled, and he couldn’t seem to catch a breath.

“I wish I could help you. I wish you had been a better person, but I’m afraid men like you don’t deserve a second chance. You won’t ever change. You say you will, but you’ll go right back to scamming innocent people and stealing from them.

“That’s really what you are, you know. A thief. A liar, a thief, a scam artist. I can’t tolerate that behavior. I won’t tolerate it. Thieves, liars, whores, antagonists, you’re all evil, and you all deserve to die. It’s my job to rid this earth of you.”

“P-please,” gasped the man. “It’s not t-too late.”

“It is for you,” said the man, pulling the brand from the fire.

He circled around his hanging body and lay the brand against the flesh of his back. The smell was almost too much for him. The smell of burning flesh was like nothing else in the world, and it turned his stomach, but not enough to stop.

His victim didn’t have enough air in his lungs to scream, but it didn’t matter. The pain was so excruciating he passed out.

He woke briefly minutes later. He’d been cut down from the ropes and was lying on the floor staring up at the evil face of his tormentor. He was prepared to torture him again, already laying the brand back in the fire and cleaning his knives.

Looking directly into his face, his eyes fluttered and closed as he mumbled a few last words.

“What did you say?” asked the torturer.

He whispered again, his last words passing over his lips as the man stared at him in shock. Pushing the dead man away from him, he scrambled against the wall of the old home, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed that way, but finally, he stood, wiping the blood from his knife.

Carefully, he wrapped the body in a sheet and dragged it through the garage, placing it in the trunk of his car. This evil needed to leave his presence sooner rather than later. It would be a long night, but it would be worth it. There was more evil out there, and with the new year coming, he would be very busy.

“Busy, busy, busy,” he murmured to himself. “Busy as a bee.”