Authors: Lisa Jackson
Devious (52 page)
S
ome deaths are worth great risk.
ome deaths are worth great risk.
But they are necessary, if revenge is to be served.
It takes time, and patience, of course.
I had to wait for five months, had to be quiet, to tamp down the most basic of my urges while each night I listened to the radio and listened to
her
give out her pathetic advice.
her
give out her pathetic advice.
But I did.
I waited.
I planned.
I checked schedules, shift changes, routines, and how one could get into the prison.
It wasn’t as hard as I expected.
For priests still travel to other parishes, and they give counsel to inmates, so with false ID I was able to walk through the doors of the prison where Sister Devota, née Darlene Arness, is incarcerated.
With the same ID and a confident smile, a little glint in my eye for the woman guard, and my hands folded over my Bible, it’s an easy matter to gain access to Devota, in her cell, where she wants to make confession.
Of course, it’s all on camera, but I’m not worried. She opens her arms and heart to me, confessing all, even the murder of my beautiful and wicked Camille and the others. She’s not worried, as I am a priest; her confession is safe with me. She doesn’t see the rage, the telltale tic beneath my left eye, the way my knuckles turn white as I hold the Bible. She not only murdered my child, but also the woman I loved. And I loved Camille, make no mistake. My love for that witch was insatiable.
But, of course, I try to look calm, to act the part of the understanding priest and hear her confession. I’m here to mete out my own special justice, and when she explains about Camille and the baby she was carrying, my child, I feel the need rise.
I remember first spying Camille at St. Elsinore’s, when I was searching the old ruins for items I could use, and she mistook me for a traveling priest. I saw the glint of interest in her beautiful eyes, the tiniest of smiles, and I felt her desire, one quickly hidden but, over time, elicited. Even when she realized I wasn’t a priest.
She never knew my true identity, of course, just thought I was a rogue priest, one who wanted women too much not to have been cast from church to church.
And she didn’t ask too many questions, perhaps suspected and didn’t want to know the truth. Besides she was too smart, had lived in New Orleans too long not to have speculated on my true identity.
But she didn’t check; or at least she never told me she did. Maybe my sordid reputation, if she even considered it, only added fuel to her already unquenchable fire, the heat of her sexual needs.
The nunnery was not for Camille.
But I miss her, wretchedly so, and it is all I can do not to scream at this lump of twisted womanhood who so blatantly killed her—using my own technique, no less!
Insidious bitch.
It’s all I can do to hear her confession and to know that after this night, I will have to submerge again, become invisible, tamp down my needs. Though this idiotic copycat has stolen my thunder, I will rise again, but not for a while, not until this night, too, has passed and I have become but a legend.
To everyone but Rick Bentz.
My teeth grit as I think of him, and the pain from his bullet seems to sear my flesh again as the pathetic nun mumbles her confession. Yes, I will become a ghost again, and only reappear when the time is right.
As Devota breathes her last vile words, I bless her, but then, before she looks up to my face again, as her head is bent, I place one hand over her mouth and quickly snap her neck.
I prop her up in the chair, and then, while the cameras are rolling, knowing Rick Bentz will review the footage, I slip out of the prison.
I’m not far away when the sirens begin to screech, but it’s already too late.
I disappear into the thick, welcoming Louisiana night.
When I write a book, there are many people who help me pull it all together, whether it’s in editing or research, moral support, or technical advice. I trust many individuals and professionals who know far more than I about certain subjects, but any mistakes in the book are clearly my own.
I would like to thank those people who have helped me with
Devious
. There are more behind-the-scenes workers, of course, but the following people come to mind, and I can’t say how much I appreciate their help and support:
Devious
. There are more behind-the-scenes workers, of course, but the following people come to mind, and I can’t say how much I appreciate their help and support:
Alex Craft, Ken Bush, Nancy Bush, Matthew Crose, Michael Crose, Niki Crose, Wayne Kreitz, Carol Maloy, Arla Melum, Ken Melum, Trevor Melum, Roz Noonan, Robin Rue, John Scognamiglio, Larry Sparks, and Celia Stinson. Thank you, and if I forgot someone, my apologies!
As ever, I have made some alterations to the facts, bending the rules a bit for the purposes of story.
Also, at the time of the writing of this book, the horrific accident in the Gulf Coast occured. The oil spill was fouling the incredible waters of that part of the world and threatening the wetlands of Louisiana, probably flowing its way to New Orleans. As I write this, the spill (really an explosion like an unending volcano) is still pouring out of the seabed, and I’m sick with worry for not only the Gulf states and countries surrounding the area, but also for the entire world, ecologically, financially, and morally.
New Orleans, and all of Louisiana, is very dear to me. Though I’ve never lived in the South, my characters do, and I’ve spent many happy hours in the beauty and vibrance of that incredible part of the world.
I did not address the oil spill in this book but will in later Bentz/Montoya novels, when I know more about how this whole catastrophe plays out. My heart goes out to the people who reside and work in the area—strong, courageous people who stood on the soil they loved and fought the devastation and disaster of Hurricane Katrina only to face this new, unthinkable calamity, a tragedy for us all. It takes incredible and brave people to fight the battles of nature and man. I applaud you all.
Lisa Jackson
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2011 by Susan Lisa Jackson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Library of Congress Card Catalog Number: 2010942790
ISBN: 978-0-7582-6844-0
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