“But at least I’ll have results. And as long as I catch the bastard, I really don’t care what my consequences are.”
“Look,” he said sounding frustrated, “you can’t do this. Not alone.”
“I have to,” she said. “We have no idea when he’s going to kill again. I can’t sit on this until Nelson is ready to talk to me again or until your guys decide it’s worth their time to come down here.”
“I could present the idea as my own,” Ellington said. “Maybe that would speed things up on the Bureau end.”
“I thought of that,” Mackenzie said. “But when’s the soonest you’d have agents out here?”
His sigh from the other end told her he knew she was right.
“Probably about five or six hours,” he answered. “And that’s being optimistic.”
“So you see my point.”
“And you see how you’re putting me in an awkward position,” he countered. “If you go out there and something happens to you, I have to say something to my supervisor. If you get harmed or killed and it’s discovered that I knew about your plan, that’s my ass on the line.”
“I guess I just have to make sure I don’t get hurt or killed.”
“Damn it, White – ”
“Thanks for the concern, Ellington. But this has to be done now.”
She ended the call before he could say anything else that might sway her out of her decision. Even now with the call ended, she wondered if this was being too reckless. She’d be on her own, venturing into darkness with specific orders not to get involved in the case. Worse than that, she’d potentially be on the turf of a killer they knew very little about.
She walked through the living room and out the front door before she could change her mind. Breathing in the crisp night air seemed to push aside any doubt. She ran her hand along the shape of the pistol holstered in her belt and it calmed her a bit.
Wasting no more time, she dashed to her car and started the ignition. She peeled out of her driveway and headed west, the night unrolling before her like some dark curtain on a stage that was finally about to open.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
She’d listened to him rummaging around in the house all day. On occasion, he’d sing hymns, one of which she knew from sitting on her grandmother’s lap in a small pew in a rural Baptist church. She was pretty sure it was called “How Great Thou Art.” Each time he hummed it she felt a fresh wave of nausea and fear, knowing what he had done to her – and what he would do.
As she’d listened to his singing and movements, she’d tried to get to her feet again. If she’d had on clothes, it would have been easier. She’d managed to roll to the far wall, place her back against it, and slowly lift herself up. Even then, though, her calves started to stretch and burn due to her ankles being so tightly tied together. Because she had worked up such a sweat by that point, her back would slip against the wall and she’d slip right back to the ground on her backside.
Now, wrists bleeding from the abrasions the ropes had etched into her skin, she backed up against the wall again. Her legs felt like putty and the scratches she’d gotten along her back stung like bee stings. Whimpering, she tried again, pushing against the wall while she pushed herself up by her feet. When she reached the point where her ankles and calves started to burn, she simply forced herself through the pain and extended her legs.
As she stood up fully, her legs wobbled and she almost fell right away. But she pressed against the wall and managed to keep her balance.
Okay, now what?
She didn’t know. She was just relieved to finally be on her feet. She figured if she could get through the doorway a few feet to her right, she might be able to find a phone and call the police. She’d heard him open the door and close it all day. She supposed he was going outside for small periods of time and coming back in. If she could get just a glimpse of what was going on elsewhere in the house, maybe she could get out of this alive.
She slunk against the wall and made it to the doorway. Her skin broke out into goose bumps as sweat coated her body. She felt her body trembling and she wanted to cry, to sink back to the floor. She scanned the room, looking for any sharp instrument with which she could sever her wrist ties.
But there was none.
She felt like giving up. This was too much, she though, too hard.
With her back to the door, she fumbled for the doorknob. When she had it in her hands, she turned it slowly. There was a slight click as the tumbler removed itself from the doorframe.
She stepped away from the door, letting it slowly swing open. She could feel the fresh air from the other side of the door and she wondered if anything had ever felt so good in her life.
She turned around slowly, trying to move as quietly as she could. She’d find a phone to call someone, or an open window. Sure, her hands and legs were tied up but she’d risk a fall just to get out of here.
But when she fully turned, facing the doorway, he was standing there.
Her scream was blocked by the cloth gag over her mouth. He smiled at her and stepped into the room. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder and caressed her there. Then, with his smile widening, he shoved her. She went sprawling to the ground and when she did, her shoulder bounced awkwardly. She screamed again and it turned into a deep sob.
“You’ll be free soon enough,” he told her.
He got down on his knees and again placed a hand on her shoulder, as if for reassurance.
“We’ll both be free, and it will be glorious.”
He left the room and when he closed it, she could hear an additional clicking noise as he set the lock. She wept, feeling like she might suffocate because of the gag. And all the while, he moved around downstairs, singing hymns to the same God that she found herself desperately praying to on his dusty floor.
He did not like working under pressure. He also did not like change, especially when things had been so carefully planned and thought out. Yet here he was, having to alter his plans halfway through his work. There were three more cities to raise, three more sacrifices. One was propped and ready to go but he still had no idea how he would carry out the other two.
For now, he had to take it one step at a time. For now, the fourth city was all he was concerned about.
He thought he’d adjusted well in light of recent events. It had been the work of God that he had driven by the planned site of the fourth city just in time to see the police presence. The men of the world were on to him and would do whatever they could to stop his work. But God, sovereign and all-knowing, was protecting him. He had prayed then, and God had told him that it was the work that mattered, not the location of the sacrifice.
He had adjusted accordingly. And he had done well, as far as he was concerned.
For instance, the woman was no longer in the upstairs room, the place he had left her in an hour before. Now, she was in the shed. She was in the fetal position, her arms pulled behind her and her knees drawn up. Her ankles and wrists were bound together, the rope given some slack so she would not accidentally pop her shoulder out of its socket. She had to be unblemished when he put her upon the pole. God would not accept sacrifices with flaws.
He studied her for a moment as he stood against the pole that he had just finished erecting in the shed. This woman was quite pretty, prettier than the others for sure. Her driver’s license placed her age at nineteen, and he read she was originally from Los Angeles. He did not know why the woman had come here, but he knew that God had placed her in his path. The girl did not know it, but she should feel honored. She did not realize that she had been selected even before she was born to be sacrificed for the glory of God.