Still Lake - Anne Stuart [100]
He simply closed his eyes and waited, listening to the sounds of the night, while sweet, soft Sophie slept safely in his arms.
20
Doc hadn’t meant to hit her so hard. He had a long night ahead of him, and he didn’t want to rush things. He hummed beneath his breath as he carried her through the rubble-strewn hallways of the old hospital annex. She barely weighed anything, and Doc was a strong man. It was easy enough to toss her over his shoulder and make his way through the candlelit passage.
The electricity had been turned off long ago. He wasn’t surprised—the wiring dated from the early part of the century, with exposed black wires and white porcelain insulators up near the ceilings. It was one of the reasons the hospital had been closed in the first place—the danger and the cost of replacing the electricity. Sophie had told him she planned to open the place, fix up the rooms when she could afford it. In the meantime it was tightly sealed, so no one could get in.
She hadn’t bothered to board up the main door, relying on the substantial locks that were still there. And of course he had the key.
Marty groaned, and Doc quickened his step, heading down the narrow wooden stairs to the old hospital kitchen. It wasn’t the first time he’d used the place, but it would be the last. He was going to finish the night in a blaze of glory. Like the fireworks over the lake on the Fourth of July, he thought fondly. A final burst of multiple rockets and then all would be silent.
He’d killed three in one night, long, long ago. He preferred to take his time, choose his subjects carefully, but twenty years ago Lorelei, Valette and Alice had given him no choice.
Valette had come to him first, bleeding from a botched abortion. He’d used the knife on her, a fitting justice. And her father never had to know that his daughter was capable of such a great crime. Alice had shown up a few hours later, looking for her missing friend, her makeup smudged, her hair mussed, smelling of sex and sin.
And then he went hunting for Lorelei, the third of the town whores, determined to finish it all, finish God’s work, and take his punishment.
It hadn’t worked out that way. No one even guessed that he was the one who’d dispensed justice. No one had known Lorelei was coming to visit him except Valette. No one had seen any of the girls in hours. Except that hellion who worked up at his sister’s place.
He’d never meant for anyone else to take the credit for his work. He’d acted wisely, sparingly before that dark night twenty years ago, and he’d always felt a certain pride in his deeds. But the Lord worked in mysterious ways, and the boy had appeared guilty as sin. He was, of course. Guilty, sin-ridden, a thousand crimes on his young, twisted soul. Murder would have followed soon enough—he was simply paying for his crimes ahead of time.
Since then he’d been careful, more selective, and no one had ever guessed there was any connection between Abby Ling’s car accident, Sara Ann Whitten’s disappearance and Doc’s frequent trips out of town.
Tonight there would be four of them. Three were sinners, all in one tainted family. He should have known there was deep wickedness there. He’d chosen Marty at first glance, knowing she had come to Colby to be cleansed of her sin by sword and fire. He had no idea the wickedness ran clear through the family, striking the witless mother, even devouring sweet Sophie. She would be better off dead than living in whoredom. It was only his duty.
And Rima. She lay in her bed at home, her sightless eyes staring out into the night. She’d wept when he told her. He couldn’t make her understand that this was his calling. He brought life into the world, and he took it from them when necessary. It was his love for humanity that made him do it. Wickedness must be sought out and destroyed. Surely she understood that?
But she didn’t. He knew his saintly Rima hadn’t been corrupted—after all, she’d suffered as he had, the loss of their unborn children, blameless infants destined never to walk this vale of tears.