Page 74 of Devil's Hour
“I’m not nearly as brilliant as you think. I sought every documentary I could find regarding rituals, exorcisms, and cults. I needed to pass the time without you somehow, and I learned a lot.” Sawyer chuckled.
“Why would a religious zealot use the devil’s hour to conduct deeds they feel are good and pure? It’s harder to carry out their kind of crimes in broad daylight, but the timing feels more significant than just opportunity and avoiding detection.”
“Many experts say that the devil’s hour is a mockery of the number three, which represents holy trinity—the father, the son, and the holy spirit. Maybe, The Purists want to reclaim the number three back from them.”
Holy Trinity. An image of the priest, Father David, flashed in his mind. Candi and her friends had called him swoony on more than one occasion. He’d overheard one of the ladies talking about her fantasies of corrupting him. They’d giggled and called it priest porn and then immediately repented, praying for forgiveness.
Everything about The Purists screamed cult to Royce. Maybe it was an extreme label, but cults started small and gained power and influence as their numbers grew, not unlike a church. Charisma and good looks were two things most cult leaders had in common, and they used both weapons to manipulate and motivate. Father David had both those things in spades, and the first victim, Lynette Goodwin, had attended his church. Coincidence? Maybe, but Royce trusted his gut.
“I think I know where he’s going,” Royce said. “Instead of picking up his tail in another block, head over to Holy Trinity and see if he shows up there.”
“On it,” Sawyer said, not questioning his judgment. “I’ll park where I can see the east side and the rear, and you can take the west and front.”
“Deal.”
Royce was careful to hang back and cut down side streets, but it was probably overkill since Avery seemed hyper focused on his mission and unaware of his surroundings.
“I got eyes on Bradford riding toward the church,” Sawyer said.
Royce’s heart raced as he turned on to Broad Street and Holy Trinity came into view. It was a huge, white cathedral with gold trim and towering spires reaching toward heaven. Religious or not, Royce thought the architecture, both inside and out, was stunningly beautiful.
“Got eyes on you too,” Sawyer added.
Royce scanned the area and spotted Sawyer’s borrowed Blazer before parking the Mustang and focusing his attention on Bradford, who had stopped his bike on the church’s front lawn. He cut the engine and took off his seat belt, preparing himself to move fast.
“Looks like he’s going in hot,” Royce told Sawyer when Bradford dismounted and pushed his bike to the ground instead of using the kickstand. “As soon as he goes inside, we should get out and move into position. I’ll follow him through the front. You look for unlocked doors on the rear and sides.”
“Ten-four, Sarge.”
Bradford flung open the front door of the church and stomped inside.
“Go. Go. Go,” he told Sawyer, then disconnected the call so he didn’t tip them off.
Royce sprinted across the street and over the lawn toward the front of the church, but before he reached the steps, the ornate doors flew open and Avery ran back out, nearly colliding with him. Royce gripped the kid by his skinny biceps. “What’s wrong?”
The look of sheer terror on the kid’s face stirred a similar reaction inside him. Royce’s chest felt heavy, but he didn’t have time for a fucking panic attack.
“It’s Father David. Some man has him tied to a chair. He’s ranting about sins of the father and splashing him with something, threatening to burn the church down. You gotta get in there.”
“Do you have your phone on you?” The kid nodded. “Call 911. Tell them everything you just told me and let them know that Detectives Locke and Key are on location and need backup. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes,” Avery said, pulling his phone from his back pocket and dialing.
It might’ve been stupid to trust the kid, but he only had time to make one call as he sprinted toward the door, and that would be to Sawyer. “Don’t go inside the church. Come around front with Avery and wait for backup. Make sure the dispatcher is taking him serious.”
“What? Where are you—”
Royce hung up so Sawyer couldn’t talk him out of going in. He knew he was breaking protocol by going into the situation without a plan or backup, but he needed to know Sawyer was safe. He shoved his silenced phone in his pocket, pulled his gun from his holster, and entered the church.
Walking on the balls of his feet, Royce silently moved through the narthex, the fancy name for the entrance hall, which he’d learned during Marcus and Candi’s wedding rehearsal. A man’s angry voice snapped him back to the present.
“You told me that no one would be there. You said no one would get hurt.” Royce recognized John Bennett’s voice from their interview in the grocery store parking lot.
Bursting into the sanctuary without assessing the situation and forming a plan was a risk he couldn’t take, so he plastered himself against the wall by the door, then carefully poked his head around to look through the opening. Father David was tied to a chair, but the bank-manager-turned-arsonist splashing accelerant and screaming at him hadn’t gagged the priest.
“No one cares about whores and flesh peddlers,” Father David said, his voice calm and soothing as if he were talking to a wounded animal. From the sounds of it, Bennett had been reduced to one. “I can make this right.Wecan make this right, John. People are upset right now, but they’ll understand our mission. We can’t stop now.”
“You’re just like him.”Him who,Royce thought. “My father claimed to be the Lord’s faithful servant, but he was evil. I told Pastor Lovell at our church that he was touching me and my sister in bad places, but Pastor didn’t believe me. Why would he choose a child over his loyal deacon? He told me I was confused and misunderstood. Then he told my father what I’d whispered in confidence, and he took it out on my sister to punish me. She blamed me until the day she couldn’t take the shame anymore and ended her life.” Bennett started to sob, but he never stopped splashing the altar with accelerant. The stench of lighter fluid was so strong it made Royce’s eyes and lungs burn just by breathing. “I only wanted to help her.”