Blood in the Ozarks

10a. Take Me to Church

It wasn't really killing souls. It was more of sending them on to wherever souls go when someone dies. Getting rid of them would be good for anyone in the vicinity of that church. But that didn't stop Kayla and Hannah from being at the front of my mind.

"This has nothing to do with our case," I reminded Ortega, voicing some of my guilt.

His focus on the road didn't falter. Clearly, he'd already made up his mind about the necessity of this little trip. "I'm glad you see it as our case now. I was worried when I realized you were here that you'd be more difficult."

My response was a cold side-eye. If anyone was making things difficult, it was him. As could be verified by our current driving situation.

Shifting in my seat, I tried to ignore the casual way Ortega drove with one hand as the other rested on the gear shift despite the car being an automatic. "I thought you had a date or something tonight?"

"I did."

"Did you leave her disappointed? It's only 9pm."

"I can get a lot done in a short amount of time." He didn't take his eyes off the road, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward. "You remember. Right, Ross?"

Images of stolen moments in office store rooms and all too short lunch breaks flashed through my mind. I'd tucked those memories away in a box labeled "Caution: Do Not Unpack," and I'd be damned if he got me to admit I'd peeked in that old box at the way he used to reach out his fingertips under the desks to connect with mine in the middle of a training classes. Or the feel of my hand splaying out over his broad, hair-covered chest as I rested against his side at night. Or how he could start a fire in me with the slightest smirk, which he was obviously sporting now.

Heat crept up the back of my neck and I crossed my legs toward the car door.

The stupid smirk on his lips grew into a self-satisfied smile illuminated by the dim glow of the passing street lamps. Dammit.

I changed the subject. "So how did you find out about this? Have you been going around town looking for a problem as if we don't have enough going on right now?"

"I may have done a few laps around town. I needed something to—" He paused and glanced over at me before choosing his next words. "—relieve my stress."

"You mean you need something to kill."

His head nodded in the relative darkness.

"Most people would go to the gym or something for their stress. Hit a punching bag. Do some cardio."

"We aren't most people."

I scoffed. "Speak for yourself. I'm working on my ten-minute mile."

The car approached a stoplight on the empty street and slowed to a halt. In the brief wait for the light to change Ortega turned to me, giving me the full weight of his stoney stare and firm jawline. "Don't pretend you would have let this go. If we didn't clear out those souls, I know you'd be on the phone with your boyfriend to send some barely qualified agent to take care of them. This way we save people some of their federal tax dollars and I get to blow off some steam."

The light turned green, but Ortega continued to focus all his attention on me.

"I'm already in the car, aren't I?"

He took my words as approval and returned his gaze to the wheel as the car started to roll forward.

I sat back in my seat in silence, watching as we drove by closed storefronts and the edge of the local college's campus. Whether I liked it or not, he was right. A backup team wasn't needed for three or four souls that hadn't moved on. We could save everyone some trouble if we removed those souls ourselves.

It's weird to think things like this could be right in your backyard. We weren't heading toward some field in the middle of nowhere or an abandoned house no one lived near. We were going to one of their churches, a safe space for those seeking solace. And we were going to destroy the things they never realized caused them so much grief. Sometimes not knowing is better; sometimes you have to know the darkness in order to restore the light.