And the screams.The screams, the screams, the screams, the screams, thescreams!
“God, please,” he whispered, aloud this time.“Please help me.”
A branch snapped to his right.He froze, and his eyes snapped open.He sat stock still, listening intently.
He was coming!His sheep was coming!The minister could hear his footsteps crunching along the dirt path that followed this creek.
The minister forgot about the screams and the faces of the dead.Tonight was about eternal life, eternal freedom from death.Tonight, he would minister to another sufferer.His own suffering could wait.God would call him home when it was his time.
He drew his knife and waited until Jameson passed him, jogging steadily down the path, his breath escaping in even puffs through his mouth.Once Jameson was past, the minister moved.He had been spared combat even if he hadn’t been spared its horrors, but he had trained well and kept up with that training after his departure from the service.
Jameson never saw him coming.There was no fear, no pain, no grief.One moment, Jameson was tethered to this world, and the next, his soul was free.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
As the night darkened, Faith became clear about the impossibility of their task.Each agency they called met them with an interrogation.Why do you need our help?How do you know that there's a risk of murder in this area?Do you have a description of the suspect?Why can't the FBI handle this?Several other questions were all different variations of, but is this really necessary?
Once the questions were answered, the excuses began.We’re stretched thin as it is.We don’t have the budget for this.We don’t have enough vehicles.All different variations of “We don’t wanna.”
Faith knew it wasn’t fair of her to think like this.Law enforcement agencies really did operate on strict budgets, and with all of the other responsibilities that they had to handle on a daily basis, devoting a significant amount of time, manpower, and money to the possibility that someone might be killed was sometimes just not possible.
But it was frustrating because she was right.Someone was in danger.Someone was going to be buried in a shallow grave somewhere.It just really sucked that someone somewhere was all they knew.
The field office seemed to be having the same trouble.When Michael called to check up on their progress, he was informed that the local agencies had all dragged their feet or offered a token complement of a single patrol car with two officers to watch access roads to nearby locations.The field offices had politely refused to send any of their agents away from their own cases to help with one of Philly’s cases, and the state agencies had not so politely told the FBI to screw off.Philly was willing to send agents, but right now there were only six agents not actively working other cases, and nothing in the Philadelphia area was labeled anything higher than orange.
So once more, they were stuck.
Faith crossed her arms and sighed.“I’m not willing to just give up.We’re just going to have to figure out where he’s most likely to attack next and go there ourselves.”
“That’s like trying to catch a fish by dropping a spear from an airplane over the ocean,” Michael said.
“Well, we have a better chance of catching a fish that way than we do by not dropping a spear at all,” Faith said.“And I can’t just sit still and do nothing.”
Marcus lifted his hands, “I think I can help with that.”
Faith really didn’t want to hear his voice anymore, but once again they were beggars who didn’t get to choose.“How?”
“The past two burial sites have been at archaeological digs, right?”he said.“Battle sites, yes, but also archaeological digs; places where the killer knew that people were digging into the dirt and would eventually discover the bodies.”
Faith blinked.She had said several times before that the killer was choosing places where the bodies would be discovered.She had been so worked up by their lack of progress that she had made a simple problem more complicated than it had to be.
And it had taken a pedantic niche historian to remind her of that.She hated to admit it, but Marcus was turning out to be pretty damned useful.“Yes.You’re right.How many of these sites are active archaeological digs.”
He grinned.“Just one.”
Faith’s heart leaped.“Which one?”
He got up and pointed at one of the southernmost dots on the map."Right here.Appleton, Maryland, near Chesapeake Bay.The Smithsonian is sponsoring a museum there honoring the battle of Dall's Point.They're digging up the site to break ground for the museumandto find any remnants of the battle that haven’t already been recovered.”
Faith didn’t care at all what the battle of Dall’s Point was.The rest, however, interested her greatly.
“All right.That’s where we’re going then.Michael, contact local law enforcement and tell them we’re on our way, and they can either help us or be mentioned by name in the paper if someone dies because of their lack of assistance.”
She turned to Marcus.“Dr.Sullivan, I can’t take you with us, but I want to thank you again for your help.I’ll make sure the Bureau knows that you’ve been of service.”
He smiled, and for once, his expression didn’t grate on Faith.“I appreciate that, Special Agent.Good luck.”
The four of them left the building.Marcus lingered for a moment while the other three got into Michael’s car, but he satisfied himself with just a wave goodbye before climbing into his Honda Accord and driving back east.
