The Apostate turned casually back to the front, hiding the thumping in his chest from his face.He heard the soft patter of the dog’s footsteps as it approached, heard one of the FBI agents say, “What is it, boy?What do you smell?”
God, please,he pleaded, oblivious to the irony of his choice to cry out to the God whose servants he murdered.Not now.I’m so close.
A part of himself chuckled at his fear.What did he expect?He wasn’t going to survive tonight.He was planning on killing a man in cold blood in front of a lot of people.At best, he was going to be caught and sentenced to death.More likely than not, the MPs would kill him immediately after he killed Brennan.
But he needed to kill Brennan.He needed to slay the false prophet.It was the only thing that could make his certain death worth it.
The dog’s breath was audible now.It sniffed and growled low in its throat.Sweat beaded on the back of the Apostate’s neck.
A shadow fell over him, and he nearly jumped to his feet and made a break for it when a rotund woman with a beehive haircut shuffled past him and plopped into the pew between him and the aisle.She was covered in a thick, cloying perfume, and the Apostate could have kissed her full on the mouth right then.
The dog stopped right next to the rotund woman.He looked down the pew, brown eyes drawn up in confusion.He was sure he had smelled something.
The overweight woman beamed at the dog.“Hi!”she said in a loud, obnoxious voice.
The dog looked up at her irritably, sniffed, then winced, overwhelmed by the scent of her perfume.The Apostate resisted an urge to laugh.His own cologne had nearly done him in, but this woman’s perfume had overcome his overzealous application.It was a sign that God really was on his side.
He stifled a laugh and ignored the dog.
“Come on, Turk,” the FBI agent said, her nose wrinkling at the overpowering odor of lilacs and peaches.
The dog—Turk, apparently—snorted and trotted along.The younger FBI agent whispered something to Turk’s handler, and they both laughed.
They spoke to a well-dressed couple at the front of the auditorium.The couple looked annoyed, but at a hard look from the older FBI agent, they sighed and yielded their seats.The FBI agents sat in the front row, and the Apostate breathed a sigh of relief.They wanted to be close to Brennan to protect him.That was a mistake.They should have sat in the back so they could watch the entire auditorium.If the Apostate had a chance, he could sneak close to the false prophet and kill him before the FBI agents noticed.
A recording of organ music started playing.The congregation fell into a hush and looked at the pulpit in rapture.Pathetic.Like goddamned rats hearing the Pied Piper’s goddamned flute.
Then the false prophet himself appeared.The Apostate was struck by his appearance.It had been only three years since he last saw the man, but he deemed twenty years older.He had gained considerable weight and lost much of his hair.His bright green eyes had lost their light, and his head hung slightly as he approached the podium.
The Apostate felt a surge of pride.You’re afraid for your daughter, aren’t you?You know that I hurt her, and you’re afraid.
He allowed himself to smile.Everyone was smiling now.Just not for the right reasons.
Just wait.I’ll get my chance.I’ll kill the false prophet.Not the way I wanted to, but this will do.
Oh yes.This will do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Faith half-listened to Walter’s message, but most of her energy was focused on scanning the crowd for any sign of their killer.In hindsight, it would have been better for them to sit in the back where they could see the entire auditorium.Faith had wanted to be close to Brennan so she could throw herself in between him and Jimmy, if necessary, but Turk could cover the distance of this entire auditorium faster than she could run from the front row to the pulpit.Maybe she could switch seats again and move to the back.
Turk sniffed and looked around again, growling irritably.He had definitely smelled something.Faith wasn’t sure if it was residual odor from the killer’s presence the night before or if the killer had been here earlier but been scared off by the arrival of the MPs.
Jimmy wasn’t here now, though, and that was what mattered.
“I wonder if I should go back to church,” Jessica said out of nowhere.“It was nice sometimes to be in the congregation and be a part of a group of people all believing the same thing.”She chuckled.“Said every cult member ever.”
She was nervous and talking to keep herself calm.Faith patted her hand, then looked around the entire room again since she was also nervous.
Turk snorted, then growled loudly enough that it brought the sermon to a halt.Faith’s ears heated as Walter chuckled benignly at the dog.“Not a fan of the Roaring Lion, I guess,” he quipped.“Well, dogs and catsarenatural enemies.I suppose the Devil should have thought of that before he chose to take that form.”
The congregation laughed politely at the joke.Faith wasn’t sure what was supposed to be funny about it, but she lifted a hand and smiled sheepishly.Turk looked chagrined and leaned against her, whimpering softly.
Then his head snapped up.He fixated on the pew across from them, staring intently at an ancient man in a full Army dress uniform.Faith frowned.“Turk, he’s gotta be closer to ninety than eighty.No way he’s, our killer.”
Turk ignored her.He jumped up and rushed to the old man, barking frantically.A gasp ran through the crowd.Faith leaped to her feet and cried, “Turk!Stop!”
Turk stopped just in front of the old man, whining anxiously.He looked pleadingly at Faith.Do something!
