He bought a copy of the Boston Globe: a souvenir for his collection. He’d heard parishioners mention something about the mayor, once again, holding a press conference. Not having a television or computer at home limited his options, but the written word was always better anyways. He’d be able to add clippings to his collection. His work was beginning to be acknowledged. All of Boston and Massachusetts would soon know of his good deeds.
But once he began reading his coverage, sitting at his kitchen table, he nearly lost it.
“‘A mad killer is targeting innocent women.’ What’s wrong with them? Don’t they get it? I helped those whores. If only their souls could sing from Heaven and tell the world they’ve been freed.”
He tossed the paper aside, fury making his breathing ragged, then walked over to his altar and knelt down. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to calm down. He began to pray to the All Mighty, for he needed reassurance. He needed His wisdom.
“Dear Lord, give me the strength to continue the holy mission you’ve assigned to me. Grant me the determination and clarity of mind to choose the right people to save. Bless me with Your wisdom, Your knowledge, and Your guidance, for I am but a servant to You. Thank You, my Lord. Amen.”
With his right hand, he crossed himself then got up again, returning to the kitchen and fetching the scattered pages of the newspaper that littered the floor.
“She doesn’t get it, but I’ll teach her. I’ll show her my process.”
The detective had left her card at St. Alban’s church. He could easily call her to explain it all, but what fun would there be in that? Plus it would put an end to his role as a savior of lost souls.
No, he had a much better idea.
Not only would he make her understand, he’d prove it to her.
After rummaging through a drawer to find his scissors, he cut away the picture of Detective Murphy and pinned it on his board, next to the photo of his sister, the article about Lori’s Death, and that of Jessica’s. The detective’s face was half hidden behind her raised hands, but a house number was clearly visible in the background. He memorized it. Google could probably tell him where she lived.
Grabbing a handful of vials filled with his cleansing solution, a pair of disposable gloves, and a disposable surgeon’s cap, he tossed the items in his pants pocket and headed to church. He had some research to do to find the detective. But he was confident his Lord’s guidance would continue to bless him.
He would teach the detective a lesson she wouldn’t live to forget.