Paul heard the venom in her voice and wondered how they’d gotten from a kiss to this. He studied her mulish profile and tapped his foot on the floorboard irritably, then he decided to change the subject. For now. “You reacted so strongly when I told you
“It’s bad.” Keren nodded. “Evil is permeating every aspect of this case. Nothing bothers O’Shea, but the crime scene, the blood… it really shook him. And I’ve never seen Dr. Schaefer lose her cool. They don’t know it, but they’re sensing the demon in this, too.”
Paul thought of the ME’s unsteady voice during the autopsy.
“I’ve never had an experience like this,” Keren said. “Where I could feel the demonic presence even when the person hosting the demon isn’t around. I felt it at the explosion, at the fountain where we found Juanita, at the autopsy, in LaToya’s apartment…”
“Do you think you could sense him if he were near?”
“I don’t know. Whatever is inside of him is incredibly powerful. If I could focus on him with some internal radar, it would be the first time I ever have.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure? What do you mean?”
“Maybe you aren’t aware of it. Have you ever been pursuing a criminal and you picked the right alley to go up or the right door to look behind? You told me once that O’Shea says you have great instincts. Maybe, without you being aware of it, you’ve been able to track down evil better because of your gift.”
“I’ve never considered such a thing. You know, not every criminal I arrest has a demon. You’d think they would. Sometimes I see demons in the strangest places. I’ve seen the struggle in some people, and, if they are open to it, I’ve helped them.”
“Can you cast demons out?” Paul’s heart started pounding.
“I don’t cast them out the way Jesus did. The people I’ve helped have done it themselves. I’ve encouraged them and prayed for them, but I’ve never found an ability to just tell the demon to come out and it works. Remember the demon that the disciples couldn’t cast out?”
“Yes, the story is in Matthew and Mark. I’m always particularly interested in the seemingly small stories that occur in more than one book. They must have left a strong impression. And I think God wants us to understand that they have special meaning.”
“Well, in Matthew, Jesus is pretty hard on His disciples, saying they don’t have enough faith. But in Mark He says this kind of demon only comes out with prayer and fasting. That’s the way I approach demons. I begin praying. I only speak in the kindest way to the person who is possessed. I pray every second I’m with them. I can tell if they are interested in my help or not.”
“And if they are?” Paul prompted.
“Then we pray together.”
“And it works?” Paul was fascinated.
“It works. It works a surprising amount of the time, because part of my discernment seems to be… well, usually… I think I can discern a spirit in someone who is open to being free of it. Because I usually help them, so it stands to reason, right? God gave me that type of understanding as the true purpose of my gift. Leading them to Jesus Christ always has to be part of it. I’m afraid I’ll leave them empty and more demons will come and take up residence.”
“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
