Still Lake - Anne Stuart [101]
He’d silenced her laughter. Not that night, when he longed to, but later, when she came to him complaining of headaches. June’s headaches came from her vain refusal to wear glasses, but the town had taken Doc’s diagnosis of a fatal brain aneurysm with sorrow and acceptance. And he’d followed God’s work ever since.
He thought Rima knew. He’d never told her, not wanting to share the burden. And it was a burden—death was a grievous thing to hand out, when he’d been trained to save lives. But there was no turning his back on his destiny, whether he wanted it or not. This duty had been placed on his shoulders, and he had no choice but to carry it out.
He’d always thought Rima would understand. Even knew, deep in her heart, what he did when he went off to the cities of New England and came home weary and grieving. He took no pleasure in killing, only righteous justification.
But he never thought he’d kill Rima. He’d sat by her bed, his head bowed, hands clasped, as he made his confession. This would be the final night—he was going up to the inn and finish his work. Destroy the last nest of vipers in their community, and then take society’s punishment. He had no illusions that the courts would understand.
There was always the chance that once more Thomas Griffin would be suspected. Doc had recognized him the first moment he’d seen him in Audley’s General Store, and he’d been half tempted to do something about it.
If he’d known the man would corrupt Sophie he wouldn’t have hesitated. He’d grieved over that mistake, though in truth he knew that if Griffin was able to corrupt her, then someone else would have done the same. She was ripe for temptation, another fallen angel, doomed to the sins of the flesh. He knew she would have to join her younger sister, and the others.
It was the mother who’d fooled him. He knew she’d lived a sinful life, but madness had touched her, and he thought it was punishment enough. But her madness had brought her special knowledge, and she’d known who he was and what he did. And he’d known she would have to join the children.
He set the candle he was carrying on the rubble-strewn counter and shifted his burden. She moaned again, but she didn’t wake. He opened the walk-in cooler, and the stale air rushed past him, making the candlelight sputter and waver. Grace was still where he’d left her, sitting in one of the abandoned cane wheelchairs, her thin hands tied to the armrests, her head sunk low on her chest. He set Marty’s unconscious figure down on the floor and moved to Grace’s side, suddenly worried. Things weren’t going as he’d planned. He might accidentally have given Grace a lethal dose of the powerful sedative. He might have fractured Marty’s skull when he brought the gun down on her black-and-pink-streaked hair. Whore’s hair, streaked now with blood.
But Grace’s breathing was even. She was just knocked out, as he’d wanted. Nothing more. And Marty moved restlessly, still alive. He needed them alive. And he needed Sophie with them. He needed them to feel the bite of the flame as it cleansed their souls and sent them to heaven.
He had no doubts that that was where they would go. He was cleansing them of their sin, sending them on so they would live in eternal blessedness and never know sorrow or pain or wickedness again. His mission weighed heavily on him, but he’d never shunned it. Even when he’d had to put the pillow down on Rima’s face to keep her from calling out, keep the screams from echoing over the peaceful village streets of Colby.
He had felt the tears running down his face when he’d finally pulled the pillow away. She didn