Читать книгу Look-Alike - Rita Herron - Страница 7

Savannah, Georgia

“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”

“And how may I help you, my child?” the priest asked.

“I have taken a woman’s life.” He stretched his fingers in front of him, the bloodstains still darkening his blunt nails, the scent of the woman’s fear still pervading his body.

Behind the curtain, he heard the priest shift uncomfortably, knew he was probably struggling with the need to see his face, with his sacred vows to keep his silence.

But finally, true to his calling, or maybe because his curiosity was spiked, he said, “Go on.”

“She is one of many to come,” he said, a singsongy note entering his voice. “She was a sinner, a home wrecker. She did not honor her marital vows and she had to pay.”

“Only our God can pass judgment on another,” the Father said. “We are all sinners. It is not for us to dole out punishments.”

Anger, vile and hot, flashed through him. An image of the woman’s sultry face followed. Her gaudy makeup. Her whorish laugh. Her wedding ring glittering as she slid into another man’s bed. “But there is a secret society of them that has sprung up. They haunt the big cities, the small towns, they are taking over.”

“You must turn to God for guidance. Seek help from others who understand your sickness—”

“I am not sick!” He slammed his fist on the wooden surface. “I am a chosen one. I must continue to serve in my own way by ridding the world of evil women.”

He stared down at his pinky finger, to her wedding ring. She hadn’t deserved to wear it so he had kept it for himself.

And he would have more, so many more, before his work was finished.