Exceptional a murderer zeroes in on his target Along the Jericho Road : A Blood-Red Moon by Writingfundimension

Previously: Father Brian DeShano is in the midst of a personal crisis when a killer pulls him into a twisted world of moral corruption, cover-ups and revenge. ******************** Responding to the promptings of i yo ki ca'ska - the thread which connects all of nature - Canada geese congregated in the neighborhood park. Taking flight, they settled into a V-formation, leaving behind the humans' dwellings as their ranks covered miles in mere minutes. The tragedy unfolding below held no interest or sorrow, for their hearts were attuned only to survival. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Debra and Earl Padget built their modest tudor-style home when Earl returned from serving in WWII. Anxious to fill it with children, the couple endured the pain of multiple miscarriages. Finally, at age thirty-eight, Debra carried a child to full term. But when their infant boy died just weeks after birth, Earl agreed that working outside the home might be a good antidote for his wife's grief. She became head cook in the cafeteria of St. Matilde's grammar school until she had a stroke in 1990. Her beloved Earl passed away several years later from a heart attack, but Debra refused to succumb to self-pity. She enjoyed people and had a network of friends and professionals that allowed her to remain in her own home.  However, her niece and only-living relative, Darcy Shaw, complained about her aunt's 'pig-headedness' to anyone who would listen. It irked her that the old lady would not do the 'sensible' thing and enter an assisted living facility. But Debra suspected her niece was more concerned about an inheritance than in what was best for her aunt. Unable to rise above the sin of unforgiveness, Debra confessed her feelings to Father Brian during his weekly visits with her. "I try to give her the benefit of a doubt, Father; but she's a cold fish with boorish manners and I simply don't trust her." Father Brian's response was the reason so many of his church family treasured him. "Nowhere in the Bible does it say that one should embrace gullibility as a replacement for common sense. If your gut tells you someone is not being honest, then trust what you are feeling, my friend. Do your best in the situation, then let God take over." Lying in her bed, Debra mentally replayed an ominous encounter with her niece earlier in the day. "I'm concerned about how vulnerable you are in your physical state, Aunt Debra. There are so many nuts out there willing to prey on helpless old folks like you. The locks on your doors are rusted and need to be replaced.  At least consider getting someone out here to take care of that." It was easier for Debra to dislike her niece when she wasn't making sense. Maybe she's right...or maybe she's just trying to scare me into doing what she wants.   She arranged her pillows to alleviate pressure on her neck and settled in to watch television. But worn out by her brush with her niece's toxic energy, the old lady was asleep on her back and snoring before eight o'clock, blissfully unaware of the intruder who entered her home. He watched her sleeping, taking time to calm his breathing. He was pleased that he'd gained access to the house without detection. Before doubt could nettle his confidence, he pulled a syringe from his kit and tapped it to be sure there were no air bubbles in the liquid. With practiced efficiency, he injected the paralytic drug into Debra's arm. A rush of pleasure inflamed his groin when he saw her eyelids flutter and her muscles react to the assault on her nervous system. ******************** After dispatching an ambulance to the home of Debra Padget, Father Brian punched out the cell phone number of Sheriff Derek Oleson who was, at that moment, reviewing case notes for a trial appearance. Even with bifocals, he had to squint to read the small type in the legal documents. This is such a bunch of bullshit. No matter what the facts are or what I say..this slimy turd could flip on one of the other gangbangers and earn himself a lighter sentence. Licking the tips of two fingers, he was in the middle of turning a page when he felt the phone vibrate in his uniform pocket. "Sheriff Oleson, here." "Derek...it's Father Brian." The sheriff crossed his ankles and leaned back against the burgundy Naugahyde booth he occupied at the back of Rhonda's Round Up. He raised a finger and the pretty blonde waitress he'd been working on asking out, came rushing over to fill his cup. "Father, it's great to hear your voice. We sure miss you at poker night..." "Something horrible has happened, Derek; or, at least I fear it has." The sheriff switched the phone to his left hand and reached inside his uniform for a notepad. Father Brian's voice cracked with emotion, setting Derek in professional mode. "First, tell me if you're in any danger, Father?" "Oh, good Lord, I hadn't even thought of that. I don't think...no I don't believe I am. But one of my parishioners, Debra Padget, has been murdered." "What the hell...are you sure...hold on will ya, Father," the Sheriff said. Brian could hear an anxious buzzing in the background and then, "Father, I gotta go. Just got the message about Mrs. Padget and I'm on my way to her home right now. Hey, how'd you find out before I did?" "I'm the one who alerted 911, right after getting a call from a man in Debra's house that I believe is her murderer." ******************** His state of arousal was begging for release. But he forced himself to concentrate on the emergency vehicles, police cars and reporters. For months he carefully orchestrated the crime scene in his head. Like an artist exhibiting his paintings, he imagined with what awe his handiwork would be perceived by others.  His sweat-soaked clothing became an icy sheath, and he shivered despite the heat pouring into the car. Anxiety began to leach his euphoria, when, at last, the one he'd been waiting for arrived. As Father Brian exited his black sedan, the killer made his escape, confident the message he left was about to be delivered.      Recognized Author Notes Terms: i yo ki ca'ska: A Sioux phrase that loosely translates to the thread that controls the flow of the natural world. Thank you Tillom for use of your great artwork, Pour L'amour De Vert

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