Jessica Stephenson was a heavier girl than he’d assumed. She was short and thin, but quite muscular, as he noticed when he began undressing her with his gloved hands.
With efficient moves, he took everything off except for her underwear. He had no desire to see or touch what hid beyond those thin layers of fabric. In fact, he never understood the so-called common but lowly desires men had toward women. Sure, some had beautiful facial features, but the rest? Good thing he’d chosen a path toward God.
Of course, he understood that all creatures, men and women included, had been shaped by God. They were beautiful in that sense, but that didn’t entice him in the least.
Whenever women approached him—and they did more often than he cared for—a single line had always sufficed to push them away: “My heart belongs to Him.”
As he slid the green nightgown he’d lifted from the church’s donation bin, he realized he could save the women that came onto him instead of turning them down.
Maybe…
He lifted her body so the fabric could slip underneath her, then let her be for now. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not with the dose of cleansing solution she’d just ingested. He had a few hours ahead of him to clean up.
He headed down the hall and back to the kitchen to drink the rest of his wine. He found the garbage underneath the sink and thought about dumping the two travel-sized bottles he’d brought with him. He’d learned one thing from Lori’s cleansing, the larger wine bottle wasn’t very discreet. Either getting there or back. But putting two travel-size bottles in his pants was much easier. He put them back in his pockets for now, not wanting their existence to clue anyone in.
The sinner’s father would be home shortly. He didn’t have as much leeway as he’d had with the last soul he’d saved. Time had been on his side then. But now, he had to hurry if he wanted to keep his freedom.
He could dump the small bottles into someone else’s garbage a few blocks away. Nobody would be the wiser for it.
But solving that one problem still left him with dishes to do. Opening the dishwasher, he noted it was nearly full. He popped in the two glasses, found the powder detergent under the sink, filled up the dispenser, and began the cycle with the hottest setting.
“Done,” he said aloud before grabbing a handful of paper towels and a bottle of window cleaner.
Revisiting the living room where they’d sat minutes earlier, he proceeded to wipe every surface he could have touched before donning his gloves. He walked back to the door and wiped the handle as well.
Satisfied he’d left no trace there, he headed back to the bedroom to continue his cleaning ritual.
There were no chairs in her bedroom, but he could bless her soul while standing. After retrieving from his pocket a small container he’d filled with his concoction of olive and essential oils he’d consecrated at his private altar, he traced a small cross over her forehead with his gloved finger.
“God, accept this child into Heaven. Let her sit next to you, in your Kingdom. Welcome her with open arms so she can join you and forever rest in peace. Forgive all of her sins for she has already confessed to them. With the following words, I shall cleanse and bless her soul and grant her direct passage to your Kingdom.”
He opened the Bible to the Second Epistle to the Corinthians and began reading aloud:
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, through the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
For as the sufferings of Christ abound to us, even so our comfort also abounds through Christ.
But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation.
If we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer.
Our hope for you is steadfast, knowing that, since you are partakers of the sufferings, so also are you of the comfort. For we don’t desire to have you uninformed that we were weighed down exceedingly, beyond our power, so much that we despaired even of life.
Yes, we ourselves have had the sentence of death within ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead, who delivered us out of so great a death, and does deliver; on whom we have set our hope that he will also still deliver us; you also helping together on our behalf by your supplication; that, for the gift given to us by means of many, thanks may be given by many persons on your behalf.
For our boasting is this: the testimony of our conscience, that in holiness and sincerity of God, not in fleshly wisdom but in the grace of God we behaved ourselves in the world, and more abundantly toward you.
For we write no other things to you, than what you read or even acknowledge, and I hope you will acknowledge to the end; as also you acknowledged us in part, that we are your boasting, even as you also are ours, in the day of our Lord Jesus.”
He crossed himself then pulled three rosaries out of his pocket. Gently lifting her head, he passed the colorful strings between the pillow and her neck. Crossing the ends together, he tightened his grip and pulled as hard as he could.
“May you rest in peace. May you rest in peace. May you rest in peace.” His voice had begun with a soft whisper but continued in a crescendo until he watched her life force escape from her eyes.
Remaining immobile for a few seconds, he took in her vacant stare then finally released the pressure around her neck. He watched her body, peaceful and cleansed, for a moment to confirm that her chest was no longer rising and to let his own heart slow down.
Somehow, her cleansing had given him a bigger high than the one he’d done weeks ago.
Was God sending him a sign? Was he being rewarded with a pleasant and powerful sensation because he’d freed another soul from the evil sins she no doubt would have continued committing?
He inhaled deeply, satisfied by his work, then pulled the rosaries away from her neck. Looking at the selection of colors he’d used this time, he settled on orange. Taking her arms away from her side and placing them on her chest in a prayer position, he then wrapped the chosen rosary around her hands.
The Bible she’d given him still lay on the nightstand. He debated which verse would be more appropriate, then settled on the First Epistle to the Corinthians. He placed the ribbon on that page, then left it open at Colossians 3:3 after reading one last passage aloud:
“For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, our life, is revealed, then you will also be revealed with him in glory.”
Minutes later, he let himself out after carefully ensuring nobody was coming into the building as he exited.
He lucked out. It was minutes before he encountered anyone. While he did his best to act normal, he concentrated on slowing down his racing heart. He resisted the urge to look around and see if anyone was looking at him for he knew that such behavior could attract unwanted attention. The more distance he placed between the apartment and himself, the closer his pulse got to its regular rhythm.
He thanked the Lord for not crossing anyone’s path for five solid blocks, at which point he ran into a parishioner whose name escaped him.
A smile and a “good afternoon” were enough to look as though he belonged in the neighborhood. He continued his walk and stopped at a coffee shop.
Perfect alibi.
He ordered himself a cup of cappuccino and a slice of lemon pie, then sat down by the window, resting in his glory, reveling in his holy deed.