I turned that way. I spotted Mrs. and Mr. Drake right next to Shelly Brooks.
The second victim Karen Brooks had been taken right before ballet class. Her mother had dropped her off in the front but didn’t get out of the car. She’d watched her daughter walk inside and then drove off.
All of the victims went to this church.
In front of us, the church choir rose. Everyone wore royal blue robes. The congregation stood too, signaling me to get up from my seat. The piano played. Drums boomed. And a man strummed a guitar.
Okay. This won’t be too bad. I’m liking this song.
We all clapped along as the choir began to perform an upbeat tune. Those soulful voices filled the air and moved through me. They traveled up to the rafters. They echoed along the walls. Never before had I experienced something so powerful, so harmonious that my bones tingled, and my heart warmed.
This is God.
I imagined their song coming close to bursting open the door and shattering all of the car windows in the parking lot.
Now I see why everyone drags themselves out of bed in the morning. This singing is worth the price of admission.
Unable to help myself, I moved to the music, stomping my feet like I saw a few and clapping my hands to the drummer’s beat.
Haven giggled.
Her mother shoved her. “Let that boy enjoy himself.”
I shook my head at Haven. “You’re just jealous of my moves.”
This choir was different compared to other choirs I’d experienced. Their voice was almost like angels. Their high notes soared over the clouds. The graceful lyrics danced as if they sang for God only.
And they crooned about how God was the creator of it all. The hope. The power. The love. I did my best to keep the beat with everyone else. In some moments, I actually wanted to add a little jump and a kick. I was close to falling into the rhythm and losing control.
Yet, those first two pews on the left caught my attention again. While a few of the parents stood, most remained seated. A few swayed, but sorrow covered their faces.
That brought my spirits down. It forced me to push back my enjoyment of the choir’s songs and remember why I’d come to this church in the first place.
Maybe, I shouldn’t even be here. I should be out and looking some more.
And then that earlier thought hit me again.
But all the victims went to this church.
Unpopular opinion or not, the Unsub was probably here right in this moment, enjoying this song, and staring right at Haven and me.
I scanned the place.
While many of the congregation sung along and clapped, others stood and glared at me.
I returned my view to the Fullbrooke Six’s parents. There were kids in the pews too. Most of the victims had sisters and brothers. Some older. Some younger.
I spotted the Waterson’s family. The third victim, Ariana Waterson had been at Sunday School that morning when the Unsub snatched her away. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Waterson, but not her older brother. The one I had caught at the scene of the last victim’s reveal—Melody. We’d heard a noise and chased the sound. In the end, it was just a teenaged boy who had thought he could help find his sister’s killer. I’d failed at keeping the disappointment out of my heart. For one beautiful minute, I’d thought we might’ve had the maniac.
The boy shook. “I’m trying to help anyway I can.”
I leaned in closer. “Help do what?”
“Find my sister’s killer.” His bottom lip quivered. “Ariana Waterson.”
“What were you doing in the building?”
“Seeing if he was around or. . .maybe if there were any clues.”
“Damn it. You could’ve been shot and killed.” I let him go. “And you’re wasting our time!”
Stein cleared his throat and got between us. “Come on, kid. Where’s your parents?”
“In front of the building.”
Oddly enough, the boy didn’t sit by the Waterson family today.
Why isn’t he in church?
I leaned in Haven’s direction as she bopped from side and side to the choir’s song. “How well do you know the Waterson family?”
She stopped clapping and raised her voice over the music. “Very well. My mother not only was Ariana’s Sunday school teacher, but she would babysit her too when Tammy and Lewis had date nights.”
“Did your mother watch Ariana’s brother too?”
Haven gave me a strange look. “Ariana was an only child.”
Terror filled my chest. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. Tammy could barely have Ariana. I remember the church prayed over her. Once she had her daughter, she tried again, but couldn’t. The doctor told her she would have no more kids.”
I shook my head. “No. That can’t be correct. Please ask your mother.”
Haven widened her eyes. Still, she turned her mother’s way and whispered in her ear. Her mother shook her head no.
The song ended.
Everyone began to sit down.
Haven returned to me. “Yeah. Ariana was an only child.”
“Goddamn it!”
Several people in the front turned my way and scowled.
“Oh. Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll be right back.”
Looking like an idiot, I slipped out of the pew and headed to the back.
Behind me, a man began to speak in front of the church.
If Ariana doesn’t have a brother, then who the hell did we chase after days ago?
Once I got outside, I pulled out my phone and dialed Stein.
Stein jumped on the line. “King, you need me to save you from church?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t calling for rescue.”
“The singing is worth getting out of bed. We’ll see if the sermon doesn’t put me to sleep.” I walked over to the steps but didn’t go down them. “Remember when we found Melody’s body, days ago. The last victim.”
“Of course. I had a nightmare about that last night.”
“Remember the boy that was there.”
“The teenager. Yeah. He was Ariana Waterson’s brother. I walked him to the front of the building and handed him over to his parents. He hugged Mrs. Waterson.”
“Did she look like she knew him?”
“I didn’t really take the time to check. I just headed back. Why?”
“Ariana Waterson didn’t have a brother. She was an only child.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”
“Could he have been a cousin or—”
“If he was, why not say so? Something’s off about him being at the crime scene and then lying.”
“But do you think he’s the Unsub? The kid barely looked eighteen—”
“In India, Amardeep was eight years old when he killed his 8-month-old sister and 6-month-old cousin. John Venables was 10 when he killed—”
“Those kids killed babies and younger victims. Additionally, the cleaning and ritual of our murders don’t fall in line to being under a teenager mastermind.”
“Which suggests the kid has a helper.” I gripped the phone harder. “Caucasian female Jasmine Richardson was 12 years old when she started dating Jeremy Steinke who was 23. He convinced her that he was a 300-year-old werewolf and that it would be a good idea to kill her parents and little brother.”