“That’s from Luke.” Paul was impressed. “You’ve really done your homework on Biblical demons.”
“Can you blame me? It’s a huge part of my life. It’s why I became a police officer.”
“To chase demons?”
“No, because sensing them and seeing the damage they do, both to the ones they possess and those around them, gave me a special heart for the people who struggle with them. I’ve found my gift very useful as a cop.”
There was a lull while Paul considered the strange conversation. “And our killer’s demon is bad news?”
“The worst news imaginable,” Keren replied.
“So, Juanita was killed by a demon, and now he has LaToya at his mercy.”
“God is holding LaToya in the palm of His hand, Paul. And Juanita is being bathed in His love. No demon really has any power over God, you know that. Good is stronger than evil.”
“I do know that.” But Paul was glad she’d reminded him. “And I know that to live is Christ, and to die is gain. I tell Rosita that every morning when she scolds me for jogging through the neighborhood.”
“I like Rosita.” Keren grinned at him.
“I like her, too, but she’s a nag.” His eyes had adjusted to the dark until he could see every nuance of her face, the moonlight casting her skin in blue, her eyes a glowing, ghostly gray.
“So we do our best, and we leave the rest to God.” Keren shifted in her seat as if it made her impatient to accept that. “I’d lose my mind at work if I couldn’t.”
“I never could leave anything to anyone, least of all God, when I was a cop. I let the job consume me until it almost ate my heart out.” Paul snorted. “What almost? It did eat my heart out. I lost my wife. I lost my daughter. What were they if not my heart?”
Paul paused then whispered, “I was a bad father.”
“Hush.” Keren reached for him then pulled her hand back. “You know better than to waste time with regret. Your faith won’t allow that kind of wallowing. Turn to face God and the challenges of today, and let the past go.”
“Sounds easy.”
“Not easy, simple. There’s a difference.” Keren ran her hands into her hair and fiddled with her hair tie.
She was self-conscious now because he’d done something so stupid as kiss her. “Simple to say but not so simple to do.”
“Like I said, simple, not easy.”
She was going to quit touching him, and only now was he aware that almost no one ever touched him. He often rested a hand on the shoulder of the homeless people he served, but they didn’t touch him back. He suddenly missed the touch of a human hand desperately. And he knew exactly who he wanted to touch him.
He turned to face her. “Maybe it’s time we talked about that kiss.” He closed the distance between them.
A patrol car pulled up to Keren’s door. Paul threw himself across the car seat, away from Keren. He saw her gun come up to just below the window. She was on edge, even though the car was marked and both men in it wore uniforms. One of them got out and came up to her window.
“Are you Detective Collins?” He was young and eager. It saddened Paul to think how soon those eyes would become cynical.
“Yes.” Keren flashed her badge at him. “Let me see your badge, officer.”
Keren kept her gun out of sight.
The man tapped his chest where it was clearly pinned.
Keren studied it for a long minute before she slipped her gun into its holster without the young officer even knowing she’d had it ready. The kid wasn’t nearly scared enough.
“Were you informed of why you were needed here?”
“You suspect that the man who blew up that building downtown might use that pond over there as a dump site for his latest vic.”
Paul realized Keren had gotten used to saying LaToya. She glanced at him. He’d wanted them to be less detached when they talked about Juanita and LaToya. Keren had told him no, but somewhere along the way he’d converted her, and now this officer’s language chilled him.
“That’s right. This guy is a stone-cold killer.” Keren jabbed her finger in the cop’s face. “Don’t either one of you sleep. Don’t daydream. Don’t let your guard down for a second. Don’t let someone drive up to you or walk up to you. Assume everyone’s got a gun and will open fire as soon as they’re in range.”
The cop straightened and his face looked pale in the streetlight.
Keren continued. “He definitely studied the other dump site and waited until he was alone to leave the body. He’ll be watching, waiting for you to make a mistake.”
“Yes ma’am.” The cop stood at attention.
“And when you make a mistake with this maniac, you’ll end up dead.” She slashed one finger at him like she was slitting his throat.
The officer took a half step back. “Yes ma’am!”
“I’ll radio to have someone take over for you when your shift ends.” Keren pulled out of the parking lot.
“You went overboard a little scaring that kid, don’t you think?” Paul asked.
“I sure tried.”
Paul slumped down in his seat. “Good girl.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Preach your sermon tomorrow like you’re supposed to,” Keren ordered Paul as she pulled up at the shabby back door of the old brick mission. “It’ll remind you of who you are.”
Paul leaned over and kissed her good-bye, as if he’d done it a thousand times before and it was his right. He pulled back and his eyes ran over her face.
“What’s that thing you’ve got in your hair?”
Keren, flustered, reached up for her leather tie. “It’s the only thing that works.”
“Works? What does that mean?”
“Keeps my wild mop of hair under control.” She pulled the odd contraption free and her hair spread in a riot of curls all around her head.
Paul took the hair ornament. “Beads, ties, weird.” He looked up at her. “You ought to let your hair loose. I love it down.”
Reaching out he caressed it and closed in again.
It took Keren way too long to put a stop to that. She waited until he was inside then drove back to the precinct to sleep.
There was a light burning in the room where they’d met with the FBI, and Keren went to see what was going on. Higgins sat at the desk, Dyson on a folding chair. Both were poring over stacks of paper.
“You’re working late, gentlemen.” Keren wished she’d just walked straight to the room with the cots.
Higgins gave her that I’m-a-predator-and-you’re-lunch look, and Dyson did his odd impression of a mind reader.
“Can you give us a minute, Detective?” Higgins had a way of making requests that sounded like orders. “We’ve got some things we’d like to go over with you.”
Feeling every ounce of the weight of her long hours without sleep… and the poor quality of the sleep when she did get it, Keren said, “Sure.”
“The mayor has asked us to be part of a task force to deal with this.”
“I’ve been expecting that. The bizarre murder, the explosion combined with the second abduction—”
“We want Pastor Morris to be part of it.” Higgins was so alert, Keren couldn’t shake the sense that he was always on the hunt.
“I’m sure he’ll be agreeable to that.” Privately, Keren suspected they’d have more than they could handle if they tried to keep him out.
“Have you made any headway on the profiling?” She sat down on a folding chair next to Dyson. Higgins faced them from across the desk.