And it always comes down to it. A bullet doesn’t have to leave it to be deadly. One bash on the head and you’re down like a stack of shit.
How do we protect every single woman in town—and even those in Austin? Do we publicize that there’s a serial killer and people should be extra vigilant? Avoid going out after dark alone? But that’s pointless, because both Toni and Melissa were taken during the day. For all we know, so was Annabelle. She was marked in the daylight, at least.
Are they random? How do the killers know their religion? Are they really picked out in church? Are they spread out, one here, one Austin? How do they pick who they’re going to sacrifice? Is there an age limit? Are they known to their victims?
Who in this fucking crazy world are they?
How? Where? When? Why? So many questions. So many we may never get our answer to. There are ten days left of the fair, which means ten to the solstice. Another six victims, if my theory is right. Another six catholic females could be killed purely for their beliefs—or maybe even for their lack of. For all we know, none of the girls were practicing. They were given the religion by baptism.
Just like I was.
I draw in a deep breath. We need to know. We need to know if they were practicing, because if they were and they came to church every weekend like good, honest girls, then we know how our victims are selected.
I bend forward and reach into my purse, drawing the attention of Nonna. She flicks her fingers against the side of my thigh, the sharp tap stinging. I wince but locate my phone and unlock it.
“Noella!” she hisses under her breath.
“Important,” I whisper back. I text Carlton. Practicing?
What? he responds immediately.
Victims. Church.
Nonna hits me again, and I jerk upright. I swear to all that is holy, if she hits me again…
“What are you doin’?” Drake asks me in a hushed tone.
“Information,” I grind back, glancing at my purse. My message blinker is flashing green. I’m itching to read it.
“Noella!” Nonna hisses again. “God doesn’t like phones!” she rambles in whispered Italian.
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t like murder either,” I shoot back in English, my tone as harsh as hers.
Hers somehow sounds scarier. I guess Italian is sexy as hell in bed when the guy is hot but scary as fuck when it’s your nonna in church. Go figure.
I bend down, ignoring her groan, and open the message. The single word from Carlton sends a crushing chill down my spine, one that spreads out and envelops my whole body until goose bumps are pimpled across my skin.
Yes.
I sit up again, slower this time, and touch my hand to my arm. I rub it frantically, but the chill won’t leave, so I try the other arm. Same thing.
In this room is at least one murderer. We have his semen. We have half a print of what might be his boot. But we have no idea who he is.
It could be someone I trust. It could be someone I smile and wave at every day. Someone who told me last summer that my dress was pretty. Someone happy to see me back in town. Someone I pass every day while walking into Rosie’s for my vanilla latte.
Someone is in here and every single female in this church could be next. Or the one after. Or the one after. Any one of us could have a number on our heads and all we can do is wait and see if we’re called to hell.
“Excuse me,” I whisper, grabbing my purse and darting around Drake. I quietly slip out of the door, unnoticed by anyone but Drake and Nonna, and step into the sun.
The closer it gets to midday, the hotter it gets. I’m thankful for the light-blue lace dress I decided to wear this morning, not only because it is Nonna approved for church, but because it’s the softest thing I own.
I take a few steps away from the church, through the flowers that line the graveled walk to the main door, and toward the cemetery. Holes are being dug, presumably for Toni’s and Melissa’s funerals. My heart jumps into my throat and sticks there. I’m no stranger to a funeral, but there’s something about seeing the holes being dug that makes it worse than the bodies even being lowered into them, safely inside their caskets.
“Noelle? Are you all right?” Alex steps out of seemingly nowhere, his dark eyes focused on me.
In my shaken state, caused by my own thoughts, I jump.
“Sorry—I keep startling you.”
“No, no,” I say quietly. “It’s okay. I really should start being aware of my surroundings.”
He nods slowly. “You should. It’s not exactly safe around town.”
“I… Yeah. That’s why I’m not aware, ironically.” I laugh weakly and push my hair from my eyes.
“You’ve been inside?” He points to the church.
“Yes. Stepped out for some fresh air,” I half lie. What? I do need it.
“Damn. I was hoping to stop by for the service. Ah well—always next week.”
My eyes narrow. I force them back to normal. “You could probably slip in. There’s a couple seats in the back pews.”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He shoves his hands in his pockets the way a teenaged boy would. “I don’t want to disturb anyone.”
“There’s another at five thirty if you have anyone to cover your stall,” I offer. “It’s the same one Father Luiz is giving right now.”
His lips tease into a knowing smile. “I sense a hint of frustration in your tone.”
I shrug a shoulder, smiling myself. “Too many years of being dragged to both by my grandmother, and too much time wondering if Father Luiz ever bores himself with the repetition every week.”
“Does he do other services? In the week?”
“Yeah… Wednesdays. It used to be more, but he’s getting old. Just don’t tell him I said that. He might recognize it himself, but he refuses to let anyone else see it. Anyway, it’s the same service, but only the old people attend. I guess they forgot it from Sunday. Both times.”
Alex laughs. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind if I can’t make it tonight.”
“Noelle? You okay?” The sound of Drake’s slightly worried tone comes from behind me.
I turn to him. “Yeah. I just needed a few minutes is all. Then Alex found me.” I crook my thumb toward the dark-haired man.
“Drake,” Alex acknowledges, holding his hand out.
“Alex.” Drake shakes. “How are you?”
“Good. I was just talking with Noelle about the services. I was hoping to make it this morning, but I guess that’s what I get for not checking first.” He grins. “Anyway, I’ll be off. Gotta go find some lunch somewhere before the fair opens. See ya.” He holds his hand up.
Drake holds his hand up, and I echo a small, “Bye,” but he probably doesn’t hear me.
Drake grabs my shoulders and looks down at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I shake my head. “For one, I don’t trust him.”
“Alex?” One eyebrow shoots up.
“Yeah. He just… I don’t know. He freaks me out a little. He’s pretty desperate to get into a service, and he knew a ton about Satan when he helped me with the runes. I just don’t like him, I guess.”
“All right, cupcake. First thing you need to know about Alex is that he wouldn’t even shoot a deer unless it was trying to stab him with its antlers,” Drake says softly, but I can see the laughter in his eyes.
“Neither would you,” I point out.
“Only because my mother would skin me, but she wouldn’t have the decency to shoot me first,” he argues. “But I know Alex. He’s a good guy.”
“So was Marshall. And Ellis was a great girl.”
Drake just about stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Not every good guy ends up being a murderer, and not every murderer pretends to be a good guy.”
“You sound like my brother.”
“Well, cops will be cops.” He smiles. “You trust me, don’t you?”
I sigh. “Of course I trust you.”
“Then trust me on this. You’re wrong about Alex.”