Page 114 of The Angel Maker

Blood began pouring down over her mouth.

“You brought the police,” he said.

She shook her head, half-dazed, then spat blood out to one side.

“Not me,” she said, slurring the words.

“Who, then?”

“Maybe you’re not as untouchable as you thought.”

He took a step toward her, the anger rising. While everything he had told her downstairs was true, the police being here right now meant it would be difficult for him to walk away unscathed. Money could buy many things, but even money had its limits. This was not what was meant to happen. It was not right.

Leland had the sensation of being a puppet.

Of his brother still somehow pulling everyone’s strings.

You can still burn the boy.

That was true. Not only would the fire send Christopher Shaw down to hell with his father, where the two of them belonged, it would have the benefit of confusing the scene up here. It might give him the chance to work out a story he could sell.

And if not… well. His faith was strong.

Deus scripsit.

He turned around. Shaw was staring at him with open hatred now. The fear from earlier was gone, replaced by rage at what Leland had just done to his sister.

“Leave her alone,” the boy said.

Despite everything, Leland actually laughed. The boy’s expression darkened with frustration. He knew Leland could do whatever he liked. And the fear resurfaced as Leland approached him.

Leland clicked the lighter on and—

The police won’t let you keep it.

Leland looked down at the book he was holding in his other hand. The realization was stark, and it sent a chill through him. Whatever story he told the police now, he would inevitably be placed into custody at first, and the book would be taken from him—perhaps never to be returned.The thought was intolerable, and it caused the fury inside him to blaze up once again.

Even now, Alan had thwarted him.

Except…

He had a couple of minutes, didn’t he?

Yes. If he was quick enough, he did—and that might at least be something. Keeping hold of the lighter, he began to tear the protective wrapping from the book. It came away almost too easily. If he had been thinking clearly, it might have occurred to him that the bookwantedto be read, but he was too distracted by the urgency of the task, and then any thoughts at all were knocked off course by the much stronger jolt as his fingers finally touched the leather cover itself.

His father’s words…

The book’s pages fell open easily. He flicked through, scanning a few of the entries. Every sentence was clearly visible to him, but for a moment he still couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

He turned quickly to the final page in the book.

And then Edward Leland read what had been written.

Forty-six

Katie.

Why had she put herself at risk for him?

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