CHAPTER SIX

The Father sat motionless in his sedan, eyes fixed on the alleyway behind Chester's Bar and Grill.

I wonder what she looks like now, he thought. Is she as beautiful in death as she was in life?

The night enveloped him like a shroud, the darkness a comforting presence. He had been sitting here a while, watching as the two police officers entered the bar and then emerged into the alley. He'd heard the report go out over the police radio, and he'd felt…what was that feeling? Satisfaction? Validation?

No—purpose. Meaning.

He knew he ought to drive away, get himself as far from the dead woman's body as possible, but something compelled him to stay. He liked to linger, watching the aftermath unfold, seeing the shock and horror on the faces of those who discovered his handiwork. Watching the news wasn't even close to being there in person.

Besides, it wasn't as if anyone would recognize him. If anyone remembered anything about him, which he found unlikely, it wouldn't matter because he would soon change his appearance.

As he sat there, drinking in the scene, the Father began to remove his disguise. The wig came off first, revealing close-cropped gray hair underneath. He peeled off the prosthetic nose and cheeks that had altered his facial structure. Lastly, he removed the colored contacts, blinking as his natural eye color was restored.

He placed each piece of the disguise in a specialized bag designed to preserve evidence. He would dispose of it all later, in a place far from here. He had been meticulous, leaving no trace of himself behind: no DNA, no fingerprints, nothing that could lead back to him.

Confidence surged through him. They would never catch him. How could they? He was merely an instrument of a higher power, carrying out God's will. Divine protection surrounded him like an impenetrable shield.

The Father closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly. "Lord," he whispered, "I thank you for guiding my hand tonight. May this act of cleansing bring us one step closer to Paradise on Earth. Bless this mission you have entrusted to me, and grant me the strength to continue your holy work."

As he finished his prayer, a sense of peace settled over him. He was doing what was right, what was necessary. The world was full of sin, and he was the cleansing fire sent to purify it.

With one last glance at the chaotic scene behind Chester's, the Father started his car. As he pulled away from the curb, blending seamlessly into the sparse late-night traffic, his mind was already turning to his next target.

After all, his work was far from over. There were so many more sinners to judge, so many more souls to send to their final reckoning.

And he, the Father, would be there to deliver God's justice, one sinner at a time.