The phone clattered to the floorboards as my door was thrown open. I was too startled to do anything but shriek as an arm reached across my body to unbuckle the seatbelt, then I was yanked out into the cold.
I fell hard onto my hands and knees. The snow did little to cushion my landing against the frozen asphalt, which bit into my palms and tore through my thin tights. A sharp, cold wind stung the back of my thighs—apparently a jacket wasn’t much protection against a snowstorm when you were wearing a dress underneath it.
“Shit,” I muttered as I sat back on my heels, wiping my stinging palms against my legs.
As soon as I was partially upright, the dark figure slapped me hard across the face. I reeled back, barely catching myself from falling on my ass in the snow, and blinked past the hot sting of tears to finally bring her into focus.
“Watch your whore mouth,” the woman hissed. The resemblance to my sister-in-law was there in the downturned mouth and permanent scowl—this had to be Sandra Billings, though she looked at least ten or fifteen years older than Isaiah’s wife.
I hoped, for my brother’s sake, that her sister had a kinder heart.
Distantly, I heard Milo yelling from my phone, but Sandra slammed my car door and all that was left was eerie silence. Snowcoated her hair and clung to her eyelashes, but it did nothing to disguise the fanatical light in her eyes.
She stared down at me like a terrifying angel and recited, “Your task is to single-mindedly serve Christ. Do that and you'll kill two birds with one stone: pleasing the God above you and proving your worth to the people around you.”
“I doubt Christ approves of lighting people on fire,” I muttered, then snapped my mouth shut when she lifted her hand again.
“You’re both sinners. You both have to be purified.”
Now that she wasn’t posing as a harmless shopper, I knew she wouldn’t get the drop on Milo again if she went after him after—well, whatever she was planning now. Besides, Rob was with him and the police would be here soon. I’d just try to keep her talking, even if it meant listening to her twisting lines from the Bible for her own purposes.
Then a ball of dread settled in my stomach. “Where’s Eve?”
“Lost.”
My head jerked and I asked, “What do you mean, lost?”
This woman might have taken a few too many things literally regarding purification by fire, but I hoped like hell she meant the kid waslostin a religious sense, not out wandering in the snowstorm.
Sandra started to pace in front of me, shaking her head back and forth. A tiny avalanche of snow tumbled down onto her shoulders with the movement. I didn’t see any weapons onher, but she was wearing a dark, oversized coat that could have hidden a rifle or a baseball bat, for all I knew.
“The girl has lost her way. I tried to keep her on the path. Mary, too. It’s too late for them both. They left me, they left the path.”
“Where is Mary now?” I asked.
Behind her, I saw a faint flash of light against the snow in the distance. Either the storm was about to kick it up a notch into thundersnow or the police were headed our way.
“Sandra, Eve is a good kid. She’s not lost,” I said, climbing slowly to my feet. “Is your sister involved in this with you?”
The woman continued muttering, but she didn’t rush toward me as I rose. My knees ached and a hot trickle of blood burned against my frozen skin as it oozed from the scrapes. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Sandra to check my palms, but I knew from the sting that they were probably shredded, too.
In light of Eve’s arrival during the self-defense seminar, most of Arnaud’s newest lessons from that night had been forced out of my mind. It was hard to forget the elbow and palm strikes I’d learned in my classes, though. I was no match for a weapon, and Sandra’s fervor might lend her more strength than I could contend with, but I thought I could hold my own against her until the police arrived.
Assuming they were as close as I hoped, anyway.
“Pastor Baumgartner is worried about you,” I lied. Then again, he seemed like a nice guy, so maybe hewasworried about her.
Sandra spun to face me. “He doesn’t know.”
I frowned and asked, “Doesn’t know what?”
“He can’t know,” she replied. “He’d never forgive me.”
“For stealing the car and the collection plate money, you mean? Or for trying to kill Milo?”
An odd cackle of laughter burst from her lips. “None of that matters. None of anything matters now. Once you’re both dead, my penance will be paid.”
“Penance for what?”
