Chapter Eighteen

“Thank you for your time,” I say, turning to leave.

“Piper.” Mitchell hurries after me. “What are you doing?”

“Find out what kind of car Monique drives. We need to see if it’s here.”

Mitchell whips out his phone. “Okay, but I’m assuming she’d valet park.”

Valet park! That’s it. After taking the elevator back upstairs, we head outside to speak with the valet attendant. The doorman nods to us as we exit the building.

We have to wait a moment before the valet attendant returns to his post. “Sorry,” he says. “We’re short staffed tonight. I guess the new guy left.”

“New guy?” I ask. Did the killer pose as a valet to abduct Monique? My senses are ringing, telling me I’m right.

“Yeah, never saw him before. He went to park some lady’s car, and he never came back.” He shrugs and holds out his hand. “Do you have your ticket?”

“We’re not picking up a car,” I say. “We actually want to know about that lady you just mentioned.”

When he cocks his head, Mitchell shows him his badge. “I’m Detective Brennan, and this is private investigator Piper Ashwell. We’re looking for the woman you were just talking about.”

“I don’t even know her name. Like I said, someone else parked her car.”

“Did she go inside?” I ask, jerking my thumb over my shoulder at the club.

“Not right away at least. She was angry because she left her phone in the car and she had to go find where the other guy parked the car.”

“So she followed him?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Do you know where her car was parked?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. I was busy parking another car at the time.”

A BMW pulls up, and the valet takes the keys. When he gets in the car, he says, “It was a red convertible. That’s all I know.”

A red convertible shouldn’t be difficult to find in the parking lot. “What about the man? The valet? Can you tell us what he looked like?”

The guy huffs. “I didn’t really pay attention. I see a lot of people in the course of a day.” He bobs one shoulder and then pulls away to park the car.

“So we’re looking for a red convertible,” Mitchell says, covering his eyes with his hand to block out the sun as he scans the lot.

“This guy was in the car, so I’ll be able to get a read on it.” I start down the first row of cars. All of them are expensive, not that I’d know much about expensive cars. Mitchell, on the other hand, is oohing and aahing over them.

“Must be nice to be able to afford cars like these,” he says, and I can tell he’s resisting the urge to touch the cars as we walk past them.

I’m busy looking for a red convertible. I see a spot of red on the opposite end of the lot. “Over there.” I pick up my pace to a slow jog, and Mitchell falls into step with me. The convertible has the top on it, which doesn’t strike me as odd considering the time of year. Though even if it were warm enough to drive with the top down, if she treasures her belongings, she’d probably put the top up to avoid theft. I touch the top of the car and close my eyes.

“I don’t understand why we have to do this now. I’m on my way to my yoga class.”

“We can’t do anything until you sign this paper.”

“But I already gave consent to move my uncle’s grave.”

“Verbal consent. But we need it in writing. Pastor Evans is just trying to protect the church. It couldn’t survive a lawsuit.”

Monique crosses her arms. “You think I’d sue a church? I’m already rich. I don’t need the little bit of money the church actually has.” She scoffs, completely disgusted, but the gleam in her eyes tells a different story.

“You’d steal from a baby if it got you more of your precious money,” the killer thinks while trying to keep his outward composure. “Please, Ms. Dubois. I have the paper in my car. It’s just one row over. If you don’t sign this… I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“Speaking of jobs, when did you start working here anyway?” she asks as she follows him.

“Not all of us have huge bank accounts. Weltunkin is an expensive town to live in. I take whatever jobs I can get to pay the bills.” The killer mentally adds, “Except for this job. This one is purely for the gratification of ridding the world of sinners like you.”

“Which one is your car?” Monique asks.

“On the end over there. They don’t let employees take up any of the prime parking spots. We have to park by that patch of trees.”

Monique scowls when she sees the beat-up black Nissan at the edge of the lot.

The killer stops at the car. “Look, I could get in a lot of trouble for conducting other business in the parking lot. Would you mind getting in the car so no one can see this and report me? I can’t afford to lose this job.”

“Get in that heap of junk?” Monique crosses her arms again.

“I’ll pay you a hundred bucks. I know that’s not much to you, but it’s what I made in tips and it’s all I have on me right now. Please.”

“Fine. Monique looks around the lot to make sure no one is watching, and then she opens the passenger door and slips inside as quickly as possible.”

The killer smiles as he gets inside.

“Where’s the money?” Monique asks.

“So much for loving your uncle who gave you everything. You disgust me, you greedy little bitch.”

“Excuse me?” Monique turns, and the second she does, the killer injects her with a needle.

I open my eyes. “He took her in his car. He injected her with something to knock her out. Or kill her. I don’t know.”

“Did you see what he looks like?”

“No. The vision was from his perspective.” My breathing is labored as the anger I felt from the killer courses through me. “He hated her. Hated how greedy she was.”

“Was?” Mitchell asks. “Are you saying she’s dead?”

“I’m not sure. She knew him from the church. He said he needed her to sign a paper to move her uncle’s body.”

“Then he’s not a church member,” Mitchell says. “He works for the church.”

I nod. “We need to talk to Pastor Evans and get a list of all the people working on moving the graves. The killer is on that list.”

“One problem,” Mitchell says. “It’s late. There’s no way Pastor Evans is at the church.”

“Then look him up. Call the station and find a phone number or address. Do you remember if there was a house on the church property? He might live right there. We can go over and—”

Mitchell grabs me by my shoulders. “Slow down.”

“I can’t. We know how to find this guy now. We need to move.”

“We’ll go to the church and see if Pastor Evans lives on the property.”

I nod, and we rush off in the direction of Mitchell’s Explorer. I couldn’t go home and rest now if I wanted to. This is it. I’m so close to finding this guy. I know it.

Mitchell puts the police light on top of the car, and we race back to the church. There’s a house located on the very back of the property, but we spot the problem immediately. It’s on the area affected by the sinkholes. There’s no way anyone is currently living in the house. There’s even caution tape across the front porch.

“He could be staying with relatives,” I say. “Call the station and find out who he’s related to in the area.” I look all around, my hands on my hips as I try to control my erratic breathing. I can’t come this close just to hit another roadblock. I just can’t.

Mitchell has his phone to his ear, and I pull up a quick Google search, conducting my own research of the minister. I find several obituaries, leaving me to believe he has no remaining family in the area. I groan and pocket my phone.

“Nothing,” Mitchell says. “He’s the only—”

“Living relative in the area. Yeah, I know.”

“Time to head home, Piper. He could be with any one of the members of the church. We can’t go door to door searching for him.”

I know he’s right, and that only makes me angrier. This killer is beating me at every turn.

Mitchell brings me a cup of tea and sits on the other end of the couch so Jez can assume her usual position between us. Jez immediately puts her head in my lap, and I rest one hand on top of her to scratch behind her ear.

“This guy is almost all-knowing,” Mitchell says. “He seems to be aware of everyone’s routines. How is that the case when he works at the church? He might not even attend Sunday services. That’s probably why you didn’t sense him in the worship hall.”

“In his mind, he’s playing God. He’s exacting his wrath on those he deems to be the worst sinners.”

Mitchell sips his tea, and his brow furrows in thought. “Then what about him? Does he really believe his actions are justified?”

“I think he does.” Something tugs at my insides. “There’s more, though. He’s so...” I ball my free hand, and Jez’s head jerks up, sensing my sudden mood swing. I’m channeling him again. “Angry. He’s full of rage.”

“Isn’t anger another one of the seven deadly sins?” Mitchell places his teacup on the coffee table and turns so he’s facing me with his back pressed up against the arm of the couch.

“It is.” I sit up and place my teacup beside his. “So, let’s recap.” I hold up my hand and start ticking off on my fingers. “Maggie was targeted for her infidelity, which the killer defines as lust. Carmen was pride. Sky was envy. Monique was greed. What’s left?”

Mitchell has his phone in hand. “We’re missing sloth, gluttony, and anger.”

At the mention of anger, the killer’s rage fills me once more. “The killer is anger. This isn’t just about punishing others. The killer knows he’s sinning as well.”

Mitchell scratches Jez, who has moved closer to him now that I’m sitting on the edge of the couch. “Why is his sin prevailing over the others’, though?”

“Don’t you see? He’s the final victim. Anger. He’s going to murder six people to stop them from ever sinning again, and then he plans to kill himself.”

Mitchell’s eyes widen. “So, this killing spree ends with suicide?”

“Unless we stop it before it gets to that point.”