Ten Plagues

Keren screamed. Behind the hood she shrieked with every bit of her strength. “Help! Call the police!” A hand clamped over her mouth.

Caldwell leaned close. “You can scream all you want. I’m only shutting you up so you can hear me explain. We’re in a completely private place. Now I’ll let you go back to your screaming so you’ll believe me.”

Somehow, whether from the certainty of his voice or an assurance from God, Keren believed him. “I suppose I did enough of it. If there’s anyone around to hear, the police will be on their way.”

“Yes,” Caldwell said in his crooning voice. “And if there’s no one to hear, you might as well spare further strain on your throat.”

Keren knew that with every passing moment she was being pulled deeper into Caldwell’s web. For now, there were no reasons to fight. She simply lay still and waited.

She was lifted out of the car. Her head hit the trunk lid and her legs scraped across rough metal as he struggled to drag her out. Her cop’s brain started filing information. He wasn’t overly strong. He wasn’t a big man. He set her on her feet briefly and steadied her with one hand while he slammed the trunk shut. He leaned close to her while he reached for the lid. He didn’t smell like a homeless man. She’d deliberately brushed her hand against his face. He had a short, stubbly beard. She tried to match that description with the pictures Higgins had taken. Murray had no beard. Except she hadn’t seen him lately and the picture was over a week old. He could have stubble like this.

Louie. Who’d killed his wife.

Maybe.

Buddy.

She’d seen pictures, read the police description.

Casey-Ray and McGwire had full beards in those pictures. But if they were disguising themselves as homeless, who knew? They could have shaved or worn a fake beard.

His breathing hissed, and she knew from the sound that he was about four inches taller than her. That made him five nine or ten. His hands were uncalloused. He was slender and of a slight build. She refused to believe it was Roger. She’d met him. She knew it wasn’t him. And Murray helped with the preaching. Keren would hate it if it was him.

She heard a jet coming in for a landing and she knew exactly where she was. He’d taken her out of the area surrounding the mission. She’d expected him to simply go into another neighborhood building. He’d used two of them already. But he was near an airport, which, with its open surrounding area, might explain why there was no one to hear her scream.

As she figured that out, she also knew O’Shea was not coming. She knew Paul wasn’t going to talk to someone from the neighborhood and get the final clue he needed to find this place. Higgins was not going to figure this one out in time. She was completely on her own.

Caldwell hoisted her over his shoulder with a soft “ummph.” His feet echoed on the concrete floor, taking her to the plague of darkness.

A still, small voice echoed in her head, and it was so clear and so pure that she smiled. “If I am with you, who can be against you?”

“No one,” Keren answered aloud. “No one can stand against God.”

“What?” Caldwell asked.

“God just reminded me that He is with me. You can’t do anything to me that isn’t God’s will.”

“Remember that while I’m painting my pictures.” Caldwell’s hands tightened on her.

Then she had an inspiration. It could only have come from God, because it was in complete opposition to everything in her head.

Always before when she could feel a demon, it was so she could help. She’d only thought of sensing Caldwell’s demon as a tool for tracking him. But what if she was meant to help him? Could she find it in her heart to try to save this evil, brutal madman? Could that be God’s will?

It was always God’s will that the lost be found. A soul be saved.

For a moment Keren clamped her mouth shut tight. She didn’t want to deliver him from evil. She wanted to get to her gun and blow him away.

She saw Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross, saying, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

She saw the apostle Paul persecuting Christians, even killing them, and going on to become one of the mightiest disciples in the history of the world.

Yes, God wanted to save Francis’s soul. Of course He did.

“I can feel the demon in you, Francis. I can help you be free. Don’t you want your life back? Don’t you want to be rid of this enemy who has invaded your soul?”

“Shut up!” Caldwell shook her and began walking faster. He was breathing hard from effort and anger.

“I know you think I’m here with you because you kidnapped me. I know you have a plan that you began formulating long ago.

I know you want to hurt Paul.”

“I did hurt him. It has been glorious watching him suffer. Killing his wife wasn’t enough. I wanted to do worse to her, but she was dead. I didn’t make her suffer enough. Then her husband interfered in my life and I found someone else who needed to be punished.”