I pressed the pillow over his face and held it there tight.  He wakes up in a panic and his arms start flailing for protection.  I raise my knee onto his chest to keep him down.  One arm grabs mine to try to move it away while the other begins pounding any area it could reach on my body.  How poetic: This man preaches about the power of peace and God’s forgiveness, but when the chips are down he’s just like the rest of us.  He’s willing to hit, kick, claw, scratch and beat anyone who threatens him because, ultimately, he’s no closer to God than any of us.  I feel his grip loosen, his muffled yells soften, then I seize my moment.  I pull my right hand out of my pocket, gripping the handle of a jagged-edge knife.  Pressing the curved end of the blade to one side of his neck, I then rip it clean through to the other.  Warm blood scatters across my face and pours out onto the bed.  His body tenses for an instant, his limbs become less taut, until finally, they fall.  I step back from the bed and observe the mangled, life-less mess on it.  No earlier than this morning was this man sitting calmly in the living room answering questions about the Copeland boy. 

“What can you tell me about David, Father Adams?” 

“Well, he was a funny child.  Always could make me smile.  He loved singing too, but his voice was so soft.  His voice probably couldn’t even carry out past these walls.His father must be devastated by the loss, God only knows how much I am.”

“Did anyone you know in your congregation act strangely around David or for any reason dislike him.”

“Oh, good lord, no!  Everyone who knew him fell in love with him instantly.  He was such a giver too.  He would make little crafts for people at school or would give things he didn’t want anymore to people who did.  Little things he grew tired of, like this.”

Then he pulled a small Scooby-Doo wrist watch out of his pocket and showed it to me.  Looking at it sent chills down my back.  Time froze for what seemed like forever, where all that I could do was look at it.  I tried to stay calm when I looked back at him.

“He gave that to you?”

“Yes, only a few days before he went missing, poor soul.”

I stood up as casually as I could and made my way for the door.

“Well, thank you for your help.  Please let us know if you remember or think of anything that can help us.”

I looked back and gave a quick smile before I headed out the door.  It was all I could do to keep from shooting the bastard.  Now, looking at him laying there, covered in blood, with a look of scared confusion on his face, I’m overcome with relief.  I wash my face off in the bathroom on my way out.  I get home, change, and burn the clothes I was wearing in a garbage barrel in my garage.  Then I finally go to bed and sleep deeper than I ever have before.

It’s 8:00 a.m.  I turn my alarm off and shower before dressing for work.  During breakfast I hear the phone ring.  I pick it up and it’s my partner. 

“Jason, we need you to come over to Father Adams’ house right away, he’s been murdered!”

“Wait, hold on for a second Eddie.  What happened?”

“Father Adams was murdered last night.  Someone slit his throat.  We need you to get down here now.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

I take a final bite out of my bagel, grab my keys, and head out to try to discover the reason for another senseless waste of human life.