“And I’m not listening to you either!” Devota glared at Val. “You’re as bad as the lot of them. All those stupid women. The girls in this damned orphanage. I tried to point them out to God so he could punish them, but he didn’t seem to listen! Turned a blind eye to their sinful deeds. I meted out punishment, even back then, showed him the sinners. I even broke one girl’s arm as she tried to steal from the bakery, but did he punish her? No! It was all up to me.”

“She was only three,” Charity whispered.

Devota grinned. “Too young to talk.”

Damn it all to hell!

Val had heard enough. This monster had been hurting others, trying to destroy them, since she was a child. She’d probably been building to this point, bit by bit, and if anyone looked hard enough, they would find other victims who had been “punished” by her over the years. She’d escalated, her deeds getting more cruel as time passed. But what had finally pushed her over the edge to murder? Seeing Sister Lea with Father Frank? Falling in love with him herself? Hadn’t Camille’s cryptic message, a heart encased CALLED, included Devota as the D? Who really knew? Probably not even the murderess herself.

Eyes focused on Devota, Val slowly inched her way into the direction the gun had skidded.

But it was far too late.

“There is no essscape,” Devota hissed, blood splattered all over her twisted, hateful face. She stood slowly, her bloody knife dripping over the bridal dress she’d brought with her. Like a monster from a horror movie, a hideous beast maimed but still bent on its hellish mission, Devota walked forward, dragging the damned dress.

Where’s the pistol? Where?! Val’s hands scrabbled over the rocky floor.

“Don’t . . . please . . . love of God . . . Valerie . . . she’s not . . . she isn’t taking vows,” Charity gurgled. Devota whirled on her.

Frantically, Val reached around her, searching for the .38, silently praying her fingers would encounter the barrel while her eyes were trained on Devota’s twisted face. She tried and failed to ignore the hideous dripping blade dangling from Devota’s blood-drenched fingers.