Bess wasn’t interested in walking to her car alone, so she waved goodbye to Andy and attached herself to a small group of women headed for the parking lot together. The inside of her car was muggy. She turned the air on and let it blow full blast for a minute before putting the car into gear and pulling away from the church.
Detective Howland’s car was in front of her house when she arrived. He hopped out of the vehicle as soon as she was parked and met her in the middle of the lawn.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“I told you earlier I was going to church. Why are you here? I said I didn’t want any cops hanging around the place.”
“I’m not here as a cop. I’ve been thinking about earlier and, well, I feel a little guilty. I hope I didn’t come across like I was pressuring you in any way. It was unprofessional. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“You didn’t. It’s fine, Scott.” Bess allowed herself to relax a little. Here in her front yard, surrounded by houses and families, she felt almost normal. “I don’t really date much, to be honest. And under the circumstances, well, it seems… I don’t know the word.”
“It’s bad timing.”
“Yes, exactly. It’s bad timing.”
“And you don’t trust me.”
Bess blinked. She was apparently too easy to read because everyone knew her at a glance. “I don’t.” She was tired of lying and keeping secrets.
“Is it because I don’t want you investigating a series of murders?”
“It’s because you either don’t believe me about the things I’ve told you or you’re choosing not to believe me. I can’t shake the idea that you want Tam to be guilty, even if he isn’t.”
“Ouch.” Scott scratched his chin and turned his eyes to the sky above her head. “It’s not that you don’t trust me. You think I’m an altogether piece of shit.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“That’s fair. I don’t know you either. Which is probably why I’m not taking your intuition, or whatever you want to call it, as gospel.” He looked back into her eyes and Bess noted that the kindness was gone from them. She’d hit him where it hurt, right in the career. “I’m good at my job, Miss Jackson.”
“I thought we’d graduated to first names.”
“Maybe that was premature.”
“I hear you. It was nice of you to stop by, Detective. I’ll be sure to call you if any crazy killers break into my house or anything.” Bess turned away, not waiting for a response, and walked inside the house.
She peered out the front window as Scott’s car pulled away from the curb. He hadn’t wasted any time looking longingly back at her. She retrieved a beer from the refrigerator. She opened it with her tulip bottle opener and winced at the cold as it traveled down her throat.
She didn’t have time for Scott Howland.
She thought back to what Daniel Mills had told her after Bible study had ended. She let her imagination follow the breadcrumbs he’d laid out for her. Jesus Antichrist carefully setting up a religion full of zealots brought in by Paul the False Prophet. Martyring himself to ensure his legacy. The Dragon sitting back, relaxing as the world burns.
But it was all a distraction. She could lose herself for hours in the possibilities. And Mills knew it. He’d shown himself early on, and maybe he regretted it. The thought excited her. She was close to something, closer than he liked. The key was in the lesson, not the lines he fed her after. The Dragon was making up for what eluded him in the past. Saint Margaret may have crawled from his mouth, but poor Margot hadn’t been so lucky.
Bess finished her beer and padded out to the garage. Amy didn’t have much time left—maybe it had already run out. She turned on the radio, let the static settle over her and contemplated her next move. She needed proof, undeniable proof the police couldn’t ignore or sweep under the rug.
The static changed to a buzz and then a shrill whine. Bess winced and put her hands to her ears, muffling the noise.
SOS
SOS
My name is Amelia Earhart
Bess shook her head to clear away the false information.
This is Amelia Earhart
“The fuck…” She wasn’t misunderstanding this time. The woman on the transmission was saying Amelia Earhart.
Help me
Waters high
SOS
Help us quick
I can feel it
New York City
New York City
New York City
Oh, if they could hear me
Bess’s stomach turned over. The room spun around her, slowly at first then gaining momentum. She knew exactly what she was hearing. It was the supposed final message of Amelia Earhart, stranded on Gardner Island, desperate for help. She’d read those words a thousand times, she knew them by heart.
George
Get the suitcase in my closet
SOS
Will you help me
Will you please
New York
New York
The transmission cut out there. Static swelled back up and claimed the garage. Bess could barely breathe. Her hands shook. The voice still echoed in her mind. Amelia Earhart. Her life’s greatest obsession. The heroine and mystery she adored above all others. Tears first welled in her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. Amelia Earhart.
A low, hollow monotone rose up and replaced the static.
Act One. Margaret of Antioch spurns the advances of Olybrius.
Act Two. Margaret of Antioch is tortured.
Act Three. Margaret of Antioch is swallowed by a dragon.
Act Four. Saint Margaret of Antioch is disgorged by the dragon.
Act Five. Saint Margaret of Antioch is beheaded.
MARGARET!
The voice screeched across Bess’s mind like nails on a chalkboard. The voice was pain and torment.
You be GOOD NOW, Margaret!
And then it changed once more. The shrill rage quieted and a deep calm replaced it. It resonated in her bones, unnaturally low and painfully masculine.
But you’re not Margaret.
Her breath was coming in thin gasps. She felt like she was being watched. Bess whipped around to look behind her. The garage door was closed. She was alone.
Not Margaret. Not chosen. Not Margot or Ashley. Not Brandy, Emily, Bethany, or Olivia. Not Amy. Just a girl. Not special. Not chosen.
“Who are you?” Bess cried.
You know who I am.
I see you, Bess Jackson.
“Tell me who you are!”
I am the Dragon. I live inside the weak, but they do my will because they want to.
“You’re a psychopath and you kill people because you’re crazy.”
The world denies me until I am a harmless fairy tale.
And then I rise.
“You’re a sick man with a god complex. No matter how much you think you’ve changed, you’re still only yourself.”
You only make me stronger.
I see you now, Bess Jackson.
And you have done my will.
Yes, I can see you
Because it was also your will.
“No,” Bess screamed. “The Devil is a liar.”