From the corner of her eye, Liz saw Rick struggling against his ropes. Beyond him she saw the body of the slain officer. She shifted her gaze to the officer’s holster and gun.
Rick followed the direction of her gaze, then met hers again. He nodded, the movement of his head almost imperceptible.
He was going to do his best to get the gun.
“Smelling salts, Val. We can’t have the good pastor passing out before the main event.”
Val crossed to Rachel and waved the vial under her nose. Her head snapped up.
“Who did it?” Liz demanded in an attempt to buy time and keep Heather’s and Val’s attention diverted from Rick. “Which one of you sick bastards killed Tara and the others? Or was it a team effort?”
“I had the honors,” Heather murmured, her face changing subtly, shifting from beautiful to horrific. “Unlike my darling Gavin, Valentine doesn’t have the stomach for the knife. And it’s something I enjoy.”
Liz swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat. “What are you?”
Heather grinned, the curving of her mouth serpentine in the flickering candlelight. “A defiler of paradise…the snake in the apple tree. A soul collector.
“It’s so easy these days. What do you think worshiping money, power and beauty is? What is the pursuit of earthly pleasures but a turning away from God? Pride. Envy. Lust. Avarice. Sloth. Anger. Gluttony. They’re a girl’s best friend.” She giggled suddenly, the girlish sound bizarre. “Who am I? I’m a devil for the new millennium.”
“You’re insane.”
“Am I? Or do you just hope I am?”
A brilliant flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the church; thunder shook the building. Heather turned to Val. “It’s show time.”
“No!” Rick shouted, struggling to free himself.
Heather grabbed Liz from behind and dragged her back against her chest, her grip surprisingly strong. She brought the knife to her throat. “Deny Him!” she screamed. “Deny Him and I’ll spare your sister’s life!”
“Don’t do it, Rachel!” Liz shouted. “She’ll kill us anyway!”
Outside, the storm kicked into high gear. The heavens opened up; rain lashed against the building.
Liz felt Heather tense, preparing to strike. The blade burned her throat as it penetrated the skin. Liz went light-headed with terror.
“If he is truly Lord and Savior, let Him help you now!”
Rick threw himself toward the fallen officer. Val shouted a warning to Heather; he took aim at Rick. Liz screamed. A figure leaped from the choir loft.
Mark! Liz realized.
He landed on Val. They went down. The gun went off. She couldn’t tell if either of the men had been hurt. For one instant, the earth stood still, then Mother Nature unleashed her full power. Thunder shook the sanctuary. The window burst into Technicolor glory. A huge crack rent the air.
The window exploded inward as the ancient banyan tree outside it crashed through. Shards of colored glass spewed into the sanctuary.
“Cover your face!” Rick shouted.
A high scream of pain shattered the moment. Heather released Liz, and she stumbled sideways against the altar. Liz saw that a piece of glass had imbedded itself in the back of Heather’s neck. The woman clawed at it, the knife slipping from her hands.
Liz dived for the knife. Heather got to it first, caught her and dragged her back. Liz fought and kicked. A second gunshot rent the air. The bullet whizzed past her head.
Mark, Liz saw. On his knees, Valentine Lopez’s gun in his shaking hands. The lieutenant lay unmoving, half of his head blown away.
“Get away from her!” Mark shouted, pointing the weapon at Heather.
Heather reared up, her face contorted with hate. Blood streamed from her hand. She drew back the knife. Mark pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
The chamber was empty.
Rick cried out her name. Liz was aware of him dragging himself toward the fallen officer. He wouldn’t make it, she knew. It was over already.
Heather laughed. Thunder shook the sanctuary. A deep groan trembled across the floor, followed by a loud crack. Heather turned. The crucifix swayed slightly. Her face went white, then blank. She threw her arms up.
In the next instant, the crucifix toppled, crushing Heather beneath it.
CHAPTER 64
Friday, November 23
11:00 a.m.
Liz sat beside her sister’s hospital bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, creating bright patches on the white bedding. The storm had passed, leaving Key West only slightly worse for wear. Once again, paradise had been saved.
The city and her citizens had begun to clean up. Repairing the damages. Clearing away the debris. Moving on.
Liz glanced from the window to her sister. Rachel slept. She had been moved from intensive care just that morning. Liz drank in her sister’s face, throat tight with tears of happiness. She’d thought she would never see her again. Never be able to hold her, laugh with her-never be able to tell her how much she loved her.
She had been given a gift so precious her heart could hardly hold the joy of it.
The color had begun to return to Rachel’s cheeks. Liz, it turned out, had accurately diagnosed her sister’s symptoms: heatstroke, dehydration and malnourishment. She had also suffered some secondary infection caused by untreated wounds.
The doctor had proclaimed Rachel a lucky woman. It was a miracle her kidneys hadn’t shut down. That she hadn’t slipped into a coma and died. Liz, he believed, had arrived in the nick of time. An hour later may have been too late.
Lucky to be alive, Liz thought. They were all lucky to be alive. Gratitude swelled in her chest. Thankfulness. She would never take life or those she loved for granted again. Would never take God’s grace for granted again.
For by what else had her, Rick’s and Rachel’s lives been spared?
“How is she?”
Liz glanced over her shoulder. Rick stood in the open doorway. She smiled. “Good. The doctor’s amazed by how she’s responded.”
“It’s a miracle she’s alive.”
“I was just thinking that.” She shifted her gaze to the white paper sack he carried. “Please tell me that’s something to eat. Something that didn’t come from the hospital cafeteria.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “ Turkey sandwich from the Green Parrot. Dressed with cranberry sauce. Happy day after Thanksgiving, Liz.”
He crossed to the bed, bent and kissed her. So much to give thanks for, she thought. So many blessings.
“I just left a meeting with the chief,” he said, setting the bag on the bed table.
She searched his gaze. “And?”
“And…the loss of Carla and Lopez has left a huge hole in the department. He needs somebody with experience. Someone familiar with Key West and all her idiosyncrasies.”
And a local hero, Liz thought. Someone who had been wronged by Valentine Lopez but didn’t hold the police department liable.
Valentine Lopez’s trail of slime had, indeed, led all over the island. It seemed Larry Bernhardt was not the only local businessman blackmailed into feeding Val’s bank account. As he had claimed to Rick, Val had been king of his own illegal mini empire, run from his office at the KWPD.
“He offered you a job,” she murmured.
Rick nodded, his expression bemused. “Yup.”
“Are you going to take it?”
“I told him I’d think about it but…yeah, I might.”
Rick, a cop again. Truth was, he had never stopped being one.
“What about Rick’s Island Hideaway?”
He met her eyes. Something in them had her heart pounding. “I don’t need a hideaway anymore, Liz.”
She shifted her gaze, nervous. Hopeful. Wondering if what had occurred between them had been real or simply a side effect of the danger they had been in. She wondered if, given a chance, it would grow into something wonderful…or wither and die.
“Where
’s Mark?” he asked.
“Down the hall, visiting Tim.”
Rick shook his head. “Another who’s lucky to be alive. A bullet to his sternum, another to a rib. It’s hard to believe they weren’t fatal.”
“Thank God.”
“Yes,” her sister murmured weakly. “Thank God.”
They turned. Rachel had awakened and was watching them, a small, contented smile tipping the edges of her mouth.
“Hi, sweetie. Feeling okay?”
She nodded. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A while. The doctor says you’re going to be fine.”
“I was fine before. My Lord was with me.”
Liz laced her fingers through Rachel’s. “When you’re strong enough, the police need to speak with you.”
“Anytime,” she murmured, then shifted her gaze. Her eyes widened slightly, as with surprise. “You have my ring. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
Tears stung Liz’s eyes. “Glad to be of help, sis.” She slipped off the band and slid it onto her sister’s finger.
Rachel gazed at it a moment, then turned her attention to Rick. “Hello,” she said. “You must be one of my heroes.”
Liz introduced them and Rick crossed to the bed. “It’s good to see you looking so well, Pastor.”
“Please, call me Rachel.” She tightened her fingers on Liz’s. “Is Stephen…did they-”
“He’s fine,” Liz said quickly. “Under a doctor’s care in Miami. He’ll be home soon. And very happy to see you, I know.”
Rachel closed her eyes, then reopened them. “He got you the envelope? With the photographs? And the drawing?”
“He did.”
Rachel was quiet a moment. “I was afraid to involve Stephen that way, afraid to involve you. Afraid for my congregation. I tried to warn them through my sermons, but I only succeeded in alienating them. Then when I realized the police were involved, I didn’t know where to turn.”
“You did good, sis.” Liz squeezed her fingers, then turned as two sheriff’s officers entered the room.
“How are you feeling, Pastor Howard?” the first said, crossing to the bed. “I’m Deputy Newman, Sheriff’s Department. This is Deputy Paulson. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”
She said she was and the deputy looked at Liz and Rick. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to speak with her alone.”
Liz hung back. “I’d really prefer to stay.”
“Go on, Liz.” Rachel squeezed then released her hands. “Go on and check on your friends, I’ll be fine.”
Liz hesitated a moment more, and nodded. She and Rick slipped out into the hall. She glanced back as the door shut, then up at Rick.
“Did the chief say anything about the investigation?”
“They’re still piecing things together, but you were right, Liz. It seems that Heather was Taft’s accomplice. They believe she met him at FSU and that they became lovers. She had already dabbled in drugs and the occult, had become fascinated by the teaching of satanists Aleister Crowley and Anton LaVey. She was easily drawn into his belief in his own divine evil. They killed Heather’s sister, their first victim working together as a team.
“After Taft’s conviction, Heather traveled to Key West and started her cult, which they believe was a continuation of one she and Taft designed. Her first initiate was Lieutenant Lopez.”
“And his allegiance afforded her not only a steady supply of the drugs she used to control her flock, but also allowed her to operate with police protection,” Liz said. “Right?”
“Exactly. Like all cults, she seduced people with promises of acceptance, belonging and power. And pleasure. Sexual. Monetary. You name it. So far, they’ve rounded up a dozen members. They believe there might be three or four times that many.”
Liz recalled how Heather had proclaimed the seven deadly sins a girl’s best friend. She recalled, too, Father Paul’s words. She repeated them aloud to Rick. “The devil is crafty, indeed. He captures us through the things that make us most human. Lust. Pride. Sloth. Anger. Avarice. Envy. These we must guard against, just as the Lord warned us we should.”
He drew his eyebrows together in confusion and she explained about Father Paul, the things he had said. “We were there. What we witnessed was…I don’t know. A part of me can’t help but think…”
Again her words trailed off. She met his eyes. “What was she, Rick?”
“A psychopath. A schizophrenic with delusions of divine evil. We’ll never know for sure.”
Liz wanted to agree. How much more reassuring to believe Heather a terribly twisted individual than an ancient evil. Than the one true evil. From the things Rachel had managed to tell her, Heather really had believed herself to be the devil incarnate. She had believed herself indestructible, unbeatable. She had become obsessed with the need to break Rachel’s faith, as if in doing so she would have beaten her one real adversary: Jesus Christ.
“Liz, Rick!”
They turned at the sound of Mark’s voice. He was with Pastor Tim, pushing him in a wheelchair.
“How’s your sister?” Mark asked as he reached them.
“She’s good. Really good.” Liz smiled and shifted her gaze to the pastor. “Thank you, Pastor Tim, for saving her life.”
He returned her smile. “Thank you for saving mine. If not for you, Lopez would have finished the job. You scared him off.”
“But I left you for dead. If you had made a sound-”
“He would have killed us both. So I played dead and prayed for God’s help. He sent Mark.”
She cleared her throat. “Pastor, I’m sorry for all…for my dishonesty with you. For suspecting you of such heinous crimes.”
He reached up and caught her hand. “I’m sorry, too. When Lieutenant Lopez told me you were Rachel Howard’s sister, I was angry. That you had lied to me. That you were continuing to lie.”
“He told you?” she said, surprised. “When?”
“The morning after Tara ’s murder. I realize now, he wanted me to distrust you. I’m sorry. Instead of giving in to my carnal nature, I should have offered you help.”
“We should go,” Mark said. “It’s nearly time.”
“A member of my congregation is in for tests this morning,” Pastor Tim explained. “I wanted to offer my support and prayers.”
Liz watched them go, then turned to Rick. “I’m going to miss Mark. But he’ll make a good pastor someday.”
The day before, Mark had told them that he was leaving. Heading back to Texas to pursue his dream of college then the seminary.
“What are you going to do?” Rick asked softly, interrupting her thoughts.
She met his gaze. “Stay with Rachel while she heals. After that, I don’t know.”
He drew her into his arms. “I was hoping you might give paradise another try. We could use you here. The kids who got sucked into the Horned Flower could use you. They’re going to need you.”
“And what about you, Detective Wells?” she asked, searching his gaze. “Do you want me to stay?”
He was quiet a moment. She held her breath, so hopeful it hurt.
“Yes,” he murmured finally, cupping her face in his hands. “You make me believe in second chances, Liz Ames. You make me glad I’m alive.”
Tears of joy stung her eyes. Wordlessly, she stood on tiptoe and brought her mouth to his. For the first time, she understood the true meaning of paradise.
About Erica Spindler
Erica Spindler's bestselling novels include Dead Run, Bone Cold, All Fall Down and Cause for Alarm. She lives in the New Orleans area with her husband, an advertising executive, and their two sons.
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