Rosary girls

80

In all his years in law enforcement, Byrne was always surprised to finally see the size and shape and demeanor of the people he sought. Rarely were they as big or grotesque as their deeds. He had a theory that the volume of someone's monstrousness was often inversely proportional to his or her physical size.

Without debate, Andrew Chase was the ugliest, blackest soul he had ever encountered.

And now, as the man stood in front of him, not five feet away, he looked small, inconsequential. But Byrne would not be lulled or fooled by this. Andrew Chase was certainly not inconsequential in the lives of the families he had destroyed.

Byrne knew that, even though Chase was severely wounded, he did not have the drop on the killer. He did not have the upper hand. Byrne's vision was clouded; his mind was a mire of indecision and rage. Rage over his life. Rage over Morris Blanchard. Rage over the way the Diablo affair had played out, and how it had turned him into everything he fought against. Rage over the fact that, had he been a little better at this job, he might have saved the lives of a number of innocent girls. Like an injured cobra, Andrew Chase sensed him. Byrne flashed on the old Sonny Boy Williamson track "Collector Man Blues," on how it was time to open the door, because the collector man was here.

The door opened wide. Byrne fashioned his left hand into a familiar shape, the first one he learned when he began studying sign language. I love you.

Andrew Chase spun around, red eyes ablaze, the Glock held high. Kevin Byrne saw them all in this monster's eyes. Every innocent victim. He raised his weapon. Both men fired. And, as it had once before, the world fell white and silent.For Jessica, the twin explosions were deafening, stealing the rest of her hearing. She folded to the cold basement floor. There was blood everywhere. She could not lift her head. As she fell into the clouds, she tried to find Sophie in the charnel house of torn human flesh. Her heart slowed, her eyesight failed. Sophie, she thought, fading, fading. My heart. My life.