Page 36 of The Reaper

He shut his eyes, shaking his sweaty head, his hair clinging to his forehead. “Okay, I will tell you.”

“Good call.” I walked back to the tripod and pressed record. “Where did you hide them?” I then enumerated each woman’s name.

Max was breathing hard, tears cascading down his bony cheeks. “Oh my god,” he said.

“What did you do to them, Max?” I repeated, glancing at the nightstand clock. He was royally testing my patience with his bullshit.

He stared at the camera and I zoomed in on his face. “I killed them,” he confessed. “All of them.”

“Where did you bury them?”

Max sobbed, a pitiful sound accompanied by tears and snot.

“Max!”

“A cement factory in Arizona.”

“Arizona is big. I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

He nodded, telling the camera about their exact location. As he spoke, I grabbed the hotel-issued shower cap from the bathroom, stood on a chair underneath the room’s smoke detector, and covered it with the cap.

I lit a cigarette, taking a lungful of smoke. “See how easy that was?” It never failed to amaze me what people like Max would do or say when faced with false hope about their inevitable end. Did he really think there was a way he could confess himself out of this shit? “Any final words for your fans?” I asked as I attached the silencer to the barrel of my gun.

“You said you’d let me go!” Max bucked his body up and down, tugging his roped hands in another desperate attempt to escape the conclusion of his story. Thankfully these beds were bolted to the wall and floor.

“You know there’s only one way this ends. See you in hell, fucker.” I ended the video with the muffled shot and Max’s bloody face in the frame.

One last thing left to do. I directed my attention to the MacBook hooked to the video camera. The screen brightened when I tapped it. Within a few clicks, I uploaded the recording to his prized site on the dark web where he’d posted his grisly snuff videos. After clicking publish, I flushed my cigarette down the toilet and headed out.

I fired a text to Zero to let her know it was over: Done. One word. Max didn’t deserve anything else.

Nineteen: The Priest

I’ve got to get some sleep. After consuming my tenth cup of coffee, I resumed examining the files with a fine-tooth comb. At first glance, nothing was remarkable about the photos and the grid with names and random numbers. Photos of me during the last two weeks of my mission in Albuquerque and my arrival in Boston filled my laptop screen. In many of the pictures I was alone, while the majority included parishioners in the background. All of these images looked like candid shots, taken by someone I hadn’t noticed. The one inside my house was unnerving, because it was clearly taken from outside.

Feeling violated, I quickly stood up and closed all of my curtains and made sure my windows were locked.

How did Andrew get these photos? Why would he send them to me? What was I missing?

A soft knock on the door startled me, making my heart thump painfully against my ribs. After seeing dozens of photos of myself, my paranoia was off the charts and fueling my already high anxiety. I glanced at the clock and groaned. I was late for the confession. I’d been consumed by trying to piece the puzzle together and had completely forgotten about my obligations.

“Father Saint James?” Jessica called from outside, before she knocked again.

I tightened my robe and headed to the living room. “Hi, Jessica. I’m running a little behind. My apologies,” I said, hiding behind the slightly opened door. Priests were modest and I wasn’t about to let the church staff see me with just a robe on.

“That’s okay. No one’s here yet so you’re fine. I just wanted to check on you and let you know that your schedule has been updated. Make sure you check it.” She smiled. “I won’t keep you. See you shortly?”

“Yes. Thanks for this.” I waved the small stack of envelopes before closing the door. I pulled my phone from my robes and opened my calendar. Grimacing at the back-to-back meetings that filled the rest of the day, I exhaled an exhausted sigh. Spending an all-nighter staring at the computer wasn’t a smart choice considering how hectic the day was.

I beelined to the office and pulled the USB from my laptop. This would have to wait.

***

“That was the last one,” Jessica said once the principal from the affiliated elementary school exited the church. He’d personally dropped off the invitation for an upcoming fundraiser. It was our first time meeting, and although he was kind, he kept stressing the importance of my presence, and insisted I would help generate higher funds for the school. No pressure.

“Thank goodness.” I twisted in my seat to face her.

“You must be tired.” She sat in the pew behind me, checking off a list on the notepad I had gifted her.

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