Page 53 of So Wicked

“Let’s see.” His fingers danced again. “Okay, I’m on the Indianapolis Animal Hospital website. Let’s look at Emergency Medical Clinic. Check Carmel… okay, here’s Patel. Specialties: emergency surgery, preventive surgery, spaying and neutering… and euthanasia and end-of-life care.”

“Awesome. That’s three down. Now Dr. Summers.”

“Looking up her website. Well, would you look at that? Right on the front page. Dr. Summers is a leading expert on humane end-of-life care and euthanasia for the Greater Indianapolis region and has authored several acclaimed essays on appropriate end-of-life care for animals of many different species."

Faith was so excited she was bouncing in her chair. “That’s it. That’s our motive.”

“So now we need to find our killer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The Angel stared at the bulletin board, muttering softly at the different names represented there.

“Got to turn them away before they fall over the cliff. They’re rowing the wrong way. They’re heading left on a right turn.”

The Angel recognized that the words symbolized a wandering mind and quieted. Focus was critical right now.

These people meant to do well. They were just horribly misguided. They thought that murder was rescue, that death was rest, that pain was unconscionable. They tried, but they were too far gone to understand how dangerous their mindset was.

But they didn’t deserve eternal damnation for it. They didn’t deserve to suffer for their crimes. They meant to help.

Just like Dr. Robertson had meant to help Ralphie.

“He’s in pain,” the Angel whispered. “He’s suffering. There’s no hope for him anymore. He’ll only live in agony for years. Better to let him go now.”

And the Angel had listened. Of course. Because Ralphie didn’t deserve to suffer.

But the more the Angel thought about it, the clearer it became that they didn’t have the right to decide for Ralphie if he wanted to suffer or not. People suffered all the time. People lay in hospital beds clinging to life because they would rather suffer than die. People pushed oxygen canisters with them everywhere they went because getting outside was worth the risk of suffocation. People with no limbs screwed metal into their bodies and ran marathons because doing something was worse than being incapable of doing anything ever again.

People fought for every moment of life. Why shouldn’t animals fight too?

Ralphie fought. When the needle entered his body, Ralphie fought. His eyes flew open. His paws scrambled weakly. His eyes met the Angel’s eyes, and the Angel understood later that the expression they held wasn’t love but fear. He cried out for help. He didn’t want to go.

The Angel realized that too late. Punishment would come certainly, but the Angel would accept it. Or perhaps when the Angel finished with the others, the last dose would remain. The Angel could use that to atone. It was up to God and the Archangels whether that would be enough, but perhaps it was worth a try.

No, it was definitely worth a try. The chance to see Ralphie again was worth a try. The Angel would try.

In the meantime, there were a few others who needed rescue. No, there were many others, but the Angel would continue to focus on those who needed it the most.

“Amanda. Carpenter. Like Jesus was a carpenter. He built shelves and beds and cradles and headboards.”

The Angel didn’t try to stifle speech anymore. It helped with focus because all of those distracting thoughts could leave and stop interrupting.

“Amanda Carpenter built plans for pets, plans for sick pets to leave this world whether they wanted to or not. She meant to help, but she only hurt, and the pets couldn’t speak to tell her to stop. She misread their cries as cries of gratitude, not cries of fear. She thought she was helping, but she was only digging her hole straight to Hell, straight to Hell.”

The decision made, the Angel walked away from the board and fell silent. The pentobarbital sat on the desk next to the syringes as always. Amanda Carpenter was five-foot-seven and weighed one hundred forty-two pounds according to her driver license. The Angel would measure fifteen cc’s for her.

The poison prepared, the Angel checked the distance to the clinic where Amanda Carpenter worked. Twenty-six minutes.

“Twenty-six plus four to get dressed plus three to walk to my car plus two to walk into the building and see the doctor. The doctor will be alone because she stays late to eat ice cream and watch a movie before going home to her husband who doesn’t like movies or ice cream.”

The Angel packed the poison in its case, still muttering. "Twenty-nine minutes to kill the doctor, then nine minutes to take her to the car. Five minutes to drive to Fountain of Life Pet Cemetery. Five minutes to find a spot. Eight to lay the stones. Seven to lay the doctor. Then three to, place the honey and wine, and flowers. One more to say the prayer. Twenty-nine minutes to kill the doctor and twenty-nine to save her soul. Fifty-eight minutes to rescue another."

The Angel began to dress. “Good, good. Another saved and only an hour spent. Ralphie will be proud. Ralphie will forgive me. Ralphie knows I meant well. Ralphie is a good dog.”

The Angel fell quiet outside of the apartment. The pizza delivery boy had been too concerned to hear speech. He might have asked questions. People shouldn’t ask questions, or they would get in the way, and the Angel could not help people if there were others in the way. The Angel was not strong and couldn’t hurt people.

The words continued in the Angel’s head, though.Fifty-one minutes to rescue another. Fifty-one minutes to send another soul to safety. Please, God and the Archangels, forgive her. Please, God and the Archangels, let Amanda Carpenter go home to her pets and be loved and accepted by them. Please, God and the Archangels, let her tell Ralphie that I love him and will see him soon.

---