Page 10 of Sinister Savior

“Well, well, well… Ms. Darling. I didn’t expect to see you here this morning.” The voice curdles my blood. I freeze, my body going rigid. I don’t recognize the voice, but I don’t have to look at the man to know he’s not a friend of mine.

I think of Father Clemmons now, in the shower, unable to hear my cries for help. Then the next thought I have is how to escape. My eyes search the small garden. Only two ways out—the gate through which this man came, which means he’s blocking my exit—or the door to enter the rectory only a few paces from me, but that leaves my back exposed. If he has a weapon, I’m a goner either way.

“What do you want?” I know what he wants. I’m not naïve. He’s here for something I don’t have, and I don’t even know where it is. Something that for all intents and purposes, I didn’t even know existed until my husband was gunned down in my home.

“You know what we want, Alice. Don’t make this difficult.” I hear his footsteps drawing closer. At first, I didn’t hear anything, only the twig which very well could have been a bird or a squirrel rousing from their slumber to awaken the dawn. Now I don’t know how I missed it. How this heavy-footed stranger snuck into this garden without alarming me…

“I don’t have the money.” I have no weapon, no way to escape, no way to defend myself. The coffee isn’t hot enough to scald anymore, but should I break the mug, it would at least have a sharp edge. But that would put me far too close to the attacker. A man—any man—would be bigger and stronger than me. There’s no way I would come out on top in a hand-to-hand battle.

His feet crunch the seeds and small nut shells lying on the walk, and I clench my jaw to keep it from trembling violently. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck are on full alert, standing on end with static-electric precision. My heart is racing, palms sweaty, mouth dry, but I force myself to stay calm. To run is to give chase, and I will lose in a road race. I’m barefoot and out of shape.

“Well, I know you don’t have the money on you, but I’m not stupid. There’s no way Tom took that much cash from us and you didn’t see it. We’ve searched your home, Alice. I know it’s not there. Where did he hide it? In a locker at the bus station? Bury it in your backyard? Maybe he hid it here at the church.” I picture the man gesturing at the old rectory and swallow hard. Mario is in there. They came for him, not me. I am just a bonus to his search.

“Leave me alone.” My words quiver like a bowl of Jell-O being taken out of the fridge. I want to melt, to drizzle down between the slats of this bench and drip to the soil beneath which I can soak in and disappear. I have no route of escape, no path to safety. I have to fight, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins is preparing me for that.

“Now you know I can’t do that, Alice.” He is standing right behind me, so close I can feel his presence deaden the sounds in this small garden. Any closer and I’d feel his warmth on the back of my neck. He rests a hand on my shoulder, and I jump again, growing more tense by the second.

I start to stand, but he pushes me back down, forcing me onto the bench in a power move to demonstrate how vulnerable I am, how strong he is. His hand remains there, and I glance at it. It’s scarred, knuckles covered in rough skin and bruises. And he wears several rings, one of which I’ve seen before. Tom had one just like it. He wore it all the time and never took it off. Though he said it was given to him by his father, which was probably another lie he told me. I’m appalled at how many lies I’m finding out my late husband told me.

“I can’t give you any money. I have none. Tom didn’t tell me where it is.” I’m starting to panic now. My options for escape are even slimmer. He has his fucking hand on me, for Christ’s sake, and how will I even move without him pinning me right back down to this bench?

“Then you’ll give me access to everything else. Bank accounts, credit cards, safety deposit boxes. Wherever Tom went, you’ll tell me and I’ll find it, and you’ll stay with me until I do find it.” He’s leaning downnow, speaking right into my ear. His breath is rancid, reeking of tobacco smoke and something rotten. “And maybe we’ll have a little fun in the meantime.”

I shudder to think of what he means by “fun”, and it’s my final straw. I won’t sit here while he threatens to victimize me. I have to fight back. It’s the only thing I can do. At least if I fight, I have a chance of getting away. If I just let him haul me off, I’m as good as dead.

“Fuck you,” I spit, then I turn and bite his hand hard, already pushing myself up off the bench.

The man screams and pulls his hand back, but before I take two steps he has a grip on my braid, using it like a handle to hold me back. I turn and grab my hair, pulling on it as I stumble backward.

“Let me go!” I scream, yanking on my hair as I tumble into a bush and feel the twigs scraping along my arms and my back. He laughs a wretched belly laugh and steps around the bench as I scramble to right myself, but I’m hung up on the branches.

“Now that’s not nice, Alice. I was trying to be a gentleman, and look what you made me do.” He reaches for me, and all I can do is lash out. My legs shoot out, kicking and flailing. If I could reach him to claw his eyes out, I would, but my biggest defense is my feet. I connect with his gut in a hard blow that doesn’t even deter him. So, I unleash the only thing I have left. I scream.

I scream at the top of my lungs, hoping to burst his eardrums or shatter a window. I kick and I scream and I fight until he has me hoisted over his shoulder, carrying me toward the gate, and then I feel someone grab my ankle.

The man turns around abruptly, spinning me so quickly I get dizzy, and my head almost slams into a tree branch that hangs low. I’m so taken by surprise, as is the man carrying me, that I gasp and brace myself, gripping his shirt, but I fall hard.

“Let her go!” I hear, and I know it’s Father Clemmons. Mario.

My body slams into the concrete, and I roll, scurrying away from the action as a fight ensues. The man pulls a knife, wielding it like a pro, and my faithful defender proves his agility, dodging the swiping blade. I cower like a fool, huddled up against the central air unit, crying and whimpering at how close I came to certain demise as I watch them pound it out. Each of them lands a blow, then the attacker jabs his knife forward, hoping to pierce skin. But Father Clemmons spins around, whipping his foot in the air, and connects to the man’s head.

“Oh, my God!” I screech, now hugging the damn machine as if it’s going to shelter me should this man kill the priest and come after me next. I try to back away farther, pressing my body against the brick exterior of the house, but I am trapped.

The fight continues, blood dripping to the ground as the man rights himself and spits a glob of the red liquid out. “You’re gonna pay for that, Mario. You’re dead to me. You hear? And Paolo’s going to have your blood.” The man is vicious, unrelenting. Stab after stab, he swipes at the air, moving closer to Mario with each jab until Mario grabs his knife hand and turns it on my attacker.

The blood that oozes from the man’s throat is grotesque, soaking his shirt, spraying out and coating Mario’s chest and neck. The knife is lodged deep into the man’s carotid artery, and Mario leads him, gasping and grunting as he bleeds out, to the bushes where he dumps the guy.

Then he turns to me and gestures, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, we have to go.” Without skipping a beat. Without a breather or staring in astonishment or shock, the priest takes my hand, hoists me off the ground, and points at the door. “Go get your things. We have to go now.”

“But…” I utter in protest. We should call the police, turn this man in before another body vanishes.

“I’ll take care of this.” He pushes me gently toward the door and moves toward the garden hose. There’s no way he can clean this up. There’sso much blood, and it’s still mostly dark. “Go!” he snaps, and I jump into action.

He had to do it. There was no way to get away from that man. But a priest who murders? I stumble into the rectory feeling like my entire life, everything I’ve known, is upside down. If these people are so vile a priest can murder one of them, who the hell have I gotten involved with? And how do they know him by name?

And can I even survive without this priest?

8

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