CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Faith half-listened to Walter’s message, but most of her energy was focused on scanning the crowd for any sign of their killer.
In hindsight, it would have been better for them to sit in the back where they could see the entire auditorium.
Faith had wanted to be close to Brennan so she could throw herself in between him and Jimmy, if necessary, but Turk could cover the distance of this entire auditorium faster than she could run from the front row to the pulpit.
Maybe she could switch seats again and move to the back.
Turk sniffed and looked around again, growling irritably. He had definitely smelled something. Faith wasn’t sure if it was residual odor from the killer’s presence the night before or if the killer had been here earlier but been scared off by the arrival of the MPs.
Jimmy wasn’t here now, though, and that was what mattered.
“I wonder if I should go back to church,” Jessica said out of nowhere. “It was nice sometimes to be in the congregation and be a part of a group of people all believing the same thing.” She chuckled. “Said every cult member ever.”
She was nervous and talking to keep herself calm. Faith patted her hand, then looked around the entire room again since she was also nervous.
Turk snorted, then growled loudly enough that it brought the sermon to a halt.
Faith’s ears heated as Walter chuckled benignly at the dog.
“Not a fan of the Roaring Lion, I guess,” he quipped.
“Well, dogs and cats are natural enemies. I suppose the Devil should have thought of that before he chose to take that form.”
The congregation laughed politely at the joke. Faith wasn’t sure what was supposed to be funny about it, but she lifted a hand and smiled sheepishly. Turk looked chagrined and leaned against her, whimpering softly.
Then his head snapped up. He fixated on the pew across from them, staring intently at an ancient man in a full Army dress uniform. Faith frowned. “Turk, he’s gotta be closer to ninety than eighty. No way he’s, our killer.”
Turk ignored her. He jumped up and rushed to the old man, barking frantically. A gasp ran through the crowd. Faith leaped to her feet and cried, “Turk! Stop!”
Turk stopped just in front of the old man, whining anxiously. He looked pleadingly at Faith. Do something!
Faith froze, confused. Then she noticed that the old man hadn’t reacted to Turk’s presence. He was breathing heavily, clutching his chest with his hand. The woman sitting next to him stared at him in dawning horror. “Dad? Dad!”
The man struggled to his feet. Turk immediately pressed himself against his legs, trying to offer support. Faith cursed and fumbled for her radio. “We have a medical emergency,” she said. “We need emergency services ASAP.”
The old man collapsed to his knees. Turk barked in alarm and started licking his face, desperate to keep him conscious. The old man’s daughter screamed and dropped to her dad’s side, grabbing his face and slapping it in desperation.
The congregation was in panic. They were on their feet, milling around, unsure how to help but unable to sit still. Several of them dropped to their knees and started praying, begging God to show their brother mercy.
Walter spoke firmly into the microphone. “Everyone, stay calm. Do we have a doctor in the auditorium? Can anyone help our brother in Christ?”
“God da—For Heaven’s sake, can we get an ambulance?” Faith said.
“One’s on the way, Special Agent,” a clipped military voice replied.
“Should we do CPR or something?” Jessica asked.
Faith started toward the suffering man, but she’d barely taken three steps when Turk’s head whipped around again, this time at a man working his way down the aisle. He stared at the man intently, then growled and sprinted for him.
Faith looked at the man. He was tall, maybe six-two, around forty years old. He was clean shaven and had close-cropped brown hair and dark intense eyes. He was Caucasian but heavily tanned with an olive tone that made him look almost Middle Eastern.
Oh, shit. It’s him. It’s Sullivan
That thought crossed her mind just before the man pulled a hideaway gun from his pocket. Turk leaped at the weapon, but the man shifted his feet and smacked Turk on the temple with the butt of the gun. He yelped and hit the ground, skidding down the aisle.
“Turk!” Faith cried.
She rushed to her dog while Jessica drew her weapon and aimed at Jimmy Sullivan, her hard eyes communicating her deadly intent.
“Wait!” Walter cried.
He jumped in between Jessica and Jimmy, spreading his arms and blocking her shot.
The crowd cried out again. Faith stared in utter shock. Jimmy blinked, showing the same shock.
“Sir, get out of the way,” Jessica instructed.
Turk moaned and shook his head, getting to his feet. He growled and rushed Jimmy again, but Walter commanded firmly, “Dog! Heel!”
Turk did, staring at Walter with an incredulous expression. Are you serious?
“Turk, take him down!” Faith commanded.
“No!” Walter shouted. “I know him! Don’t, please!”
“Sir, stand down now! Jessica, move him out of the way!”
Jessica stepped toward Walter, who pleaded, “No, please!” He turned to Jimmy. “Jimmy, I need your help. Will you help me?”
Jimmy, just as incredulous as the two agents that Walter was talking to him when he was advancing on Walter with a gun, snapped. “I’m gonna kill you, you false prophet!”
“Jimmy,” Walter said, his voice calm. “I need your help.”
Another gasp ran through the crowd. They started murmuring to each other, wondering what on Earth had gotten into the chaplain.
“Help?” Jimmy blurted. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Language!” a woman from the back of the crowd called.
Yeah, that’s important right now, lady.
Faith moved away, giving herself another clear shot on Jimmy. Turk started for him, and he flinched, but Walter said, “Heel!” once more.
Turk looked at Faith. Faith wrestled with her decision. Did she ignore Walter and have Turk try to take Jimmy down? If she did that, Jimmy might shoot Walter before Turk could stop him. He might shoot someone else. He might shoot Turk.
If she took a shot, then maybe she could stop him before he could kill anyone. But there were civilians behind Jimmy. If she shot him, she risked shooting a civilian too.
With a sinking feeling, she realized the only option that didn’t end with innocent people getting hurt was talking Jimmy down. She shook her head at Turk, and he backed off.
“There’s a man suffering a heart attack in the front row,” Walter told Jimmy. “It will be some minutes before help arrives. I need you to keep him alive until the ambulance gets here.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jimmy cried. “I’m here to kill you! You liar! You false prophet. You… Bastard!”
“I know you, Jimmy,” Walter said calmly. “You’ve fallen far, but you’re not an evil person. You were called by God to save lives, not end them.”
“Fuck God!” Jimmy snarled.
Predictably, the crowd of worshippers reacted badly to that. Several crossed themselves, and muttered prayers drifted through the assembly.
“Sir, step out of the way and let me take him into custody,” Jessica insisted.
“Please, Jimmy. This man has done nothing to wrong you. He needs your help.”
Jimmy’s hands were shaking now. He glanced at the elderly man, who was now unconscious and breathing harshly on the ground.
“Jimmy—”
“He’s not going to help you, sir!” Jessica shouted. “Will you please get the he—Da—Get out of the way!”
Walter ignored her. “Jimmy, please. Look into your heart. What do you really want to do right now?”
Jimmy’s hands were shaking badly enough that even at point-blank range, it was likely he would miss a shot on the chaplain. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill someone else if he fired the weapon though.
But he didn’t. To Faith’s surprise, Jimmy looked back at the dying man, tears falling from his eyes. Then he dropped his arms. “Damn it. Fuck.”
He rushed past Walter, shoving his way past the stunned Jessica and Faith. He dropped his gun next to Faith, and she watched it skitter across the altar and come to a stop in front of the pulpit.
Jimmy Sullivan dropped to the ground next to the dying man, no longer trembling. The confusion was gone from his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was strong and firm. “Clear a path. We’re taking him outside.” He looked at Faith. “You, help me.”
Faith walked to him, still unsure what had just happened. Jimmy grabbed his arms, and Faith asked, “Shouldn’t we perform CPR?”
“He’s having an ischemic attack,” Jimmy informed her. “Right now, he’s experiencing arrhythmia. CPR won’t help, and it could make it worse. If his heart stops, we’ll perform CPR. Grab his legs.”
Faith grabbed his legs, and the two of them carried the older man out of the auditorium. Halfway there, Faith opened her mouth to ask what had changed. How could a man who had so brutally murdered two people only days ago suddenly fight so hard to save a man’s life?
When they were outside, Jimmy lowered the man gently to the ground, then quickly unbuttoned his coat and shirt.
“Undo his belt,” she told Faith. “You don’t need to unbutton his pants, but the belt needs to go.
So does his watch. The buttons and medals won’t react with electrical devices, but the belt and watch will. ””
Faith removed both objects. The crowd from the auditorium spilled out onto the porch, but when Jimmy called, “We need room, everyone!” they stopped.
Faith heard sirens and turned to see the ambulance approaching. Behind her, she heard Jimmy counting softly to himself as he performed chest compressions on the dying man, whose heart, apparently, had stopped.
The man’s daughter was on her knees, weeping and praying.
Jimmy looked up at her and without missing a beat with his chest compressions said, “Don’t worry, ma’am.
This is a transient attack. It’s more severe for him because he’s elderly, but the paramedics will have no trouble restarting his heart. ”
The MPs on the porch looked at Faith and pointed at him. Faith shrugged. Walter Brennan, standing next to Jessica in the doorway of the chapel, smiled fondly at Jimmy. Faith decided to let it go for now. She was too thrown off to wrap her head around what had just occurred.
The ambulance arrived seconds later. Jimmy kept chest compressions going while calling information to the paramedics. The paramedics followed his instructions, completely unaware that they were talking to a man who only days ago had killed two people and only hours ago tried to kill a third.
The paramedics injected something into the dying man’s chest cavity. He gasped, and his eyes flew open. His daughter cried out and threw herself at him, but Jimmy grabbed her. “Give him space, hon. He’ll be okay but give the paramedics room to work.”
She nodded, unbothered by his touch. Hell, far from unbothered. She clung to his arm like a lifeline until one of the paramedics motioned for her to come into the back of the ambulance and join her father, who was now coherent and mumbling her name.
She climbed into the back, and just before the paramedic closed the door, she looked right at Jimmy, the spree killer, and said, “Thank you.”
Faith stood where she was, head reeling, and watched the ambulance leave. As the noise of it’s engine faded, Jimmy said, “You should probably place me under arrest now.”
Faith obliged. He didn’t resist. As she snapped the cuffs on him, she asked, “What happened?”
He smiled softly. “I came back. I guess God wasn’t finished with me after all.”
Faith didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
She handed him off to the MP officers, and they led him to a cruiser.
Walter Brennan trotted to the car and put a hand on Jimmy.
The officers waited while he spoke with Jimmy.
Faith received yet another surprise when Jimmy began weeping and laid his head on Walter’s chest. Walter held him like a child, rocking him back and forth and talking softly.
Faith noted his closed eyes and realized he was praying.
Turk trotted next to Faith and looked up at her in disbelief.
“No idea, Turk,” Faith said. “No idea.”
Jessica walked up to her and said, “What am I watching right now?”
Faith didn’t repeat herself. She just watched Walter separate from Jimmy and give him an encouraging smile. The officers placed Jimmy in the car, and Walter returned to the porch.
Faith couldn’t restrain her curiosity anymore. “What did you tell him?” she asked the chaplain.
“He asked me if a man like him could still find salvation. I told him that the Apostle Paul, the greatest servant of Christ in history, had murdered many prior to his service. God never forsakes His children.”
Faith and Jessica shared a look. Faith wasn’t religious, and she had never believed in God.
But there was no doubt in her mind that she’d just witnessed a miracle.