Detective Jason Peppers was slowly walking around the crime scene, trying to figure out what had happened. Whoever had done this had erased the surveillance tapes, so he had to try to make sense of what was left at the scene and witness statements. Unfortunately for him, it seemed as if all of the witnesses were insane. All of them had said that the man who had stopped the robbers had been shot multiple times and wasn’t injured. At first, he couldn’t understand why they would all lie to him about what happened, but after surveying the bank, it looked like they were telling the truth.
He kneeled down next to a pile of spent rounds and picked one up. It looked like it had hit a wall. The problem is that there was no wall around. Approaching footsteps broke him out of his thoughts. Turning his head, he saw his partner, Detective Aaron Holcombe, walking towards him. “What do you got,” he asked.
“We’ve just finished the last of the interviews,” Holcombe stated. “According to witnesses, there was four people here during the incident who aren’t here anymore.”
“That’s including the guy who killed the robbers?”
“Yeah. He’s described as mid-to-late 20s, about six feet tall, with brown hair. There’s the woman who, according to witnesses, he called his daughter. She’s described as the same age, about three inches shorter than him, with blonde hair.”
“So she looked the same age as he did, and he called her his daughter?”
“That’s what they said. Anyways, the woman had her little girl with her. They said she was around five or six, also with blonde hair.”
“And the last one?”
“This is where it gets weird.”
“This thing has been weird since we got here. We have a guy who, apparently, is bulletproof, killing off bad guys. We have a woman who is his daughter, even though they’re the same age. How could it possibly get any weirder?”
“The last person missing is a priest. A couple of the witnesses recognized him as Father Michaels who preaches at St. Gabriel. They said that he jumped into a cab and followed the bulletproof guy.”
“You’re right. It did get weirder. Find the cab driver and get him to tell us where he dropped him off.”
“Already got a couple of guys on it.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here and let the crime scene boys finish up.”
Detective Peppers walked out of the bank and was quickly surrounded by reporters, cameras, and microphones. All of them were asking questions at once. He wanted to shove them all out of the way, but knew he’d get into trouble if he did. He also knew that if he didn’t say something, his police chief would rip him a new one. So, he decided to go with the usual, not give them anything, approach.
“Quiet,” he instructed. When they finally complied, he said, “We just got here. We don’t have all of the evidence yet. For now, we’re letting the forensics men do their job. When we learn something definitive, we’ll let you know. Until then, we don’t want to say anything that could jeopardize our investigation.”
“So, you’re not going to tell us anything about the priest who followed the man who killed the robbers,” one of the reporters asked.
Peppers recognized the face of Bradley Whiting. Out of all the reporters he had ever dealt with, he hated Whiting the most. Somehow, Bradley always found out things that Peppers didn’t want people to know. He suspected that Whiting was paying off people on the force for information, but he could never prove it. If he could, he would make sure that whoever was tipping him off was fired.
“I don’t know where you’re getting your info, Whiting,” he responded, “but you got it wrong once again.”
“I’m not wrong, and you know it.”
“How about I give you a big, ‘no comment,’ and you can go shove it up your…”
Before Peppers could finish his sentence, Holcombe pushed him through the mob of reporters towards their car.
“You get that,” Whiting asked his cameraman.
“Yeah,” he laughed. “That was great.”
“Ok, time to move on.”
“Where to now?”
“Where do you think? We go to the church. That priest has to come home sometime, and when he does, I want to be the first one he talks to.”
“Don’t kill me,” Father Michaels pleaded. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“About what, priest? Are you going to try to lecture me about how killing is evil? I don’t think so. I’ve been on this planet for more years than I can count, and I can tell you that killing is not evil. It is merciful.”
“How can you say that? You cut their lives short. They could have redeemed themselves in the eyes of the Lord had you just let them live.”
“I have a news flash for you: Your God does not exist.”
“Just because you don’t believe in him, doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.”
“It has nothing to do with beliefs. I know that for a fact, and I’ll prove it to you.”
“According to your bible, the only way to meet God is to die.”
Father Michaels slid himself backwards on the floor, pushing himself up against the wall. “Why would you want to kill me? What have I ever done to you?”
“Think about it for a second, priest.” Whether he was too scared to think, or he just couldn’t figure it out, Christian didn’t know, so he decided to help him out. “You took a cab here.” When Father Michaels still didn’t understand, he continued. “Do you really think the cops won’t find the cab driver? And when they do, what do you think he’ll tell them? He’ll tell them exactly where he dropped you off. That will lead them directly to me and my family. You just put them in danger and you know what happens to people who put my family in danger.”
All Father Michaels could do was pray as Christian slowly walked towards him. The look on Christian’s face made Father Michaels think that he had been wrong all day. This man was no angel. He was, in fact, a demon.