Page 93 of Crossed

And I did far more than juststranglethem.

In fact, it was almost cathartic in a way that atonement never is to reenact every single step of how I murdered Andrew. I got to replace the random man’s face with his, reveling in the satisfaction of broken bones while I snapped every finger for touching what should have been mine.

For thinking he could have her. Hurt her.Touchher.

I ache to go to Parker and demand to know whether Amaya’s name has been cleared, but I resist. There’s honestly no good reason I could give for beingthatinvested, and I’ve been far too messy with my kills to give anybody any ammunition.

Especially someone like Parker.

Other than the murmured whisperings of a killer on the loose, the rest of the week passes without much fanfare, one day bleeding into the next until it’s time for another Holy Mass. And there she is, appearing out of thin air in one of the front pews with Parker on her arm and her chin tilted high.

It takes everything inside me to not rush to her side. To treat her as though she’s just another random face in the crowd, when she’s anything but. Visions of me dropping to my knees in front of her, spreading my arms wide and begging, “Do you see what I’ve done for you? What Iwilldo for you?” hit me with force, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve done to keep myself away.

I force my mind to jump from her to Him, where itshouldbe while I quote the Bible passages to the people.

But the power behind my prayers is weak when she is near.

She’s consumed me wholly.

My sickness grows strong in her presence, until I never wish to feel well again.

When I walk into my back office on Monday morning, Amaya’s already there, waiting for me.

My stomach flips but quickly falls to the floor when I see Jeremiah sitting behind my desk, his arms crossed and his brown eyes narrowed into slits.

I put him in charge of setting up the Festival of Fools accommodations. It will be cold, and people will want an inside area to keep warm, and I told him we could meet for an update at some point today. I just didn’t specifywhen.

“Jeremiah.” My voice cuts through the air.

I don’t like the way he’s looking at her.

His gaze swings over to me and softens before he flicks it back to her one more time. “Sorry, Father. I wasn’t aware you were expectingvisitors.”

Amaya smiles, but her fingers curl into fists. She reins herself in well, the way I’ve seen her do countless other times with the people in this town. She seems to have an extraordinary amount of control with everyone she encounters…except for me.

“That’s right,” I say, moving farther into the room. “Miss Paquette is here on the request of her fiancé, Mr. Errien, for tutelage.”

Jeremiah’s brows lift. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Because it’s not your concern,” I snap.

A brief look of shock flashes on his face before he schools it, and I sigh while I try to figure out what to do. It isn’t his fault I didn’t tell him ahead of time, but Amaya’s anxious energy is skittering along the walls, like she can’t wait for an excuse to escape me.

I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. “We won’t be long. You can just wait here and work on the homily for Sunday.”

A grin takes over his face, and I know I’ve made the right decision. It will be the first time I’ve given him the lead on something like this. In all honesty, I’ve barely spent any time with him, little more than I’ve spent focused on Festivalé in general, so letting him spread his wings is the least I can do.

Especially since I’ve decided to leave Festivalé for good as soon as I know Amaya’s name is cleared.

Amaya stares between us, but she keeps quiet.

“Miss Paquette.” I turn toward her and my lungs cramp. There’s so much I want to say, so much I want to do. So many things I wish I could tell her and even more I know I never will.

“Father Cade.”

A smile plays on her lips, and a spark of heat whips up my legs and through my middle.

She’s so beautiful.