Envy's Kindness (Seven Deadly Sins Book 2)

by R. A. Pollard

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  EPLIOGUE

  Upcoming Work

  Biography

  Publisher’s Note:

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  Contact RPauthor@rebeccapollard.net for questions

  Text Copyright © 2017 R.A Pollard

  Cover Copyright © R.A Pollard

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-946337-02-3 (Paperback)

  978-1-946337-03-0 (Ebook)

  First Edition

  Cover Art: Linda Boulanger

  Interior Designer: Manon Lavoie

  Proofreader: Sylvie Stewart

  Publisher: R.A. Pollard Publishing

  Library of Congress Control Number

  Houston, Texas

  Produced in the United States of America

  11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  For Andrew

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sera Holt had officially lost her mind. She always knew it would happen, that allowing the sick minds of thieves, murderers, and cruel humans into her soul would drive her into the loony bin. She had not, however, expected it to happen so soon, and in such a traumatic way.

  She sat in her sunroom, a cup of hot tea held between her hands, her feet poking out from under the edge of a huge blanket. She focused her eyes on a pair of deer quietly grazing on grass at the edge of the woods opposite her home. She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and rested her head on her knees. Her mind was blissfully blank as she enjoyed the peace and quiet of the moment, ignoring the ache in her chest. The remnants from her last and final reading still stuck to her like tar. Two years—had it really been two years?

  The memory popped into her head unbidden, and she felt the familiar, tense pressure in her chest as she once more re-lived that hell.

  Two years ago

  This monster was sick. The evil he emanated permeated the air around his chosen “hunting” grounds. Seeping into the very earth, Sera felt it in every action he took. He was frequenting local family restaurants and picking his victims from the children attending parties in the busy establishments. He would watch the children playing in the playrooms. Then, under the very noses of their parents, one little girl would vanish.

  The police chief appeared drawn and gaunt as he trudged toward her, an evidence bag in hand. The blood-soaked article of clothing had come from the killer’s last victim: a seven-year-old girl he’d taken from a local restaurant. There had been no witnesses—the cameras told them nothing. He was a damn ghost. Now, another child was missing.

  Three bodies over the last month, each one a small blond girl no older than seven. He always braided their hair, covered their little nails in red polish, and coated their rosebud mouths with lipstick. He made them into perfect porcelain dolls—hence his police moniker, The Baby Doll Killer. When he was done, he would leave them to be found in a public area. The cause of death, an obscene slash across their throats. The rest of their bodies’ vile torment was hidden under the frilly dresses he displayed them in.

  The police were out of leads. All the usual suspects had been questioned. The list of child predators had been checked and double checked, all alibis verified. Still, they had found nothing, so the police began to think out of the box and came to her.

  Sera Holt was well known in certain circles for her ability to read the psychic energy of objects. She had the power to find the killer, identify him, and stop it from happening again. So here she was, sitting in the Indianapolis police station, ten pairs of eyes watching her in judgmental silence. The chief stopped before her, his hands tightening on the bag containing the small item of blood-stained clothing.

  “I hope to God you’re not a fraud, Miss Holt. This goes against my better judgment. But I won’t have another child’s death on my conscience.” His voice was tight as he dropped the evidence bag on the desk. His rigid demeanor told Sera he didn’t want to leave this in the hands of a so-called ‘psychic.’ This was a significant clue they hadn’t been lucky enough to find with the last two victims. This time the killer had messed up.

  Sera slowly reached for the bag, her gloved hands picking up the precious article, cradling it to her chest. This would be the last few moments of someone’s life. She always needed to reinforce her mental walls before working with such a garment. She stood slowly, and one of the officers led her to a small room at the back of the precinct.

  The room was quiet and cool, perfect for the job she must now perform. A pen and a pad of paper waited for her at the table. The door closed behind her, but she still felt the eyes of the officers on her back, just beyond the glass walls of the room.

  Settling herself in a chair, she placed the evidence bag on the table. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a hairband, gathering her riotous hair into a loose bun. She locked her eyes on the bag, determined to block out everything but the task ahead of her.

  The one light in the room fell on the object, giving it an ethereal glow. For a brief moment, she imagined herself as Indiana Jones, about to remove the Holy Grail from the tomb, and a sense of foreboding stole over her. Hell, just touching it would probably unleash a curse upon her. Despite all her misgivings however, she might be able to find something to identify this killer. That was why she did this, the opportunity to prevent another child from sharing the same terrible fate.

  This sick bastard was taking children from the world, and she would do everything in her power to prevent that from happening again, even if it meant sinking into his madness and allowing it to swamp her. She took a deep breath and reached for the bag, popping the red evidence sealing tape along the edge and pulling open the zip seal.

  The scent of old blood filled the room. Sera took a moment to pray for the soul of the child whose life had been taken much too soon. With slow movements, she removed her buttery-soft leather gloves. The instant the air touched her skin, it began to tingle. Rubbing her hands together, she steeled herself for the onslaught. Then she reached into the bag. Her fingers brushed the blood-stiffened garment.

  Instantly she was hit with
a surge of terror so thick it sank into her lungs coiling, freezing, cutting off her ability to breathe. She forced her body to obey her commands as she sucked in the life-giving air, pushing past the terror of the child. Everything else about the girl she already knew, but the child’s fear saturated every fiber of what had once been her favorite shirt. Sera kept reminding herself, over and over, that she could do nothing for little Elaina now. She was dead, at peace. What she could do was find her killer while there might still be time, and find that last little girl who had been abducted.

  She was gliding through a plane of visions in her mind, each one rushing past her faster than the last—images of a birthday party only last week. Elaina had finally been given the Barbie she’d wanted. She was so happy. Sera could almost feel the happiness at the moment, seeing through the eyes of the child as she brushed the hair of her new doll. Moving forward now, her parents were taking her to a friend’s birthday. She had picked out the best present ever, so excited to be going to the Pizza Play House.

  Okay, almost there. Concentrating, Sera pushed a little more, settling into the vision of Elaina sitting at a table surrounded by other kids. She had her Barbie with her, feeding the doll some of her pizza. The party was in full swing, but her mamma had told her she couldn’t go into the playroom until she was done eating. Elaina wanted to go into the ball-pool. The other kids were playing, why couldn’t she?

  While the other mommies and daddies stood talking, she decided she would just go into the ball-pool for five minutes. Mamma would never notice. Leaving her doll beside her plate, she slid from her chair and tiptoed toward the play area.

  To Sera, it was like watching through a muted lens. The edges of the visions were always fuzzy, the voices sounded like they were heard underwater. She watched through Elaina’s eyes as she entered the play castle in Pizza Play House. Her heart was racing at the fun she was having, jumping in and out of the ball-pool without a care in her little world.

  She had been in here a long time. It was time she went back and finished her pizza. It would be time for cake soon. Making her way from the playroom, she stood in her socked feet, looking around at the milling families. She couldn’t see Mamma or Daddy anywhere. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she began to panic a little, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her pink and blue Disney Frozen top.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see a man dressed just like the people who worked there. Her mamma had told her not to talk to strangers, but this person wore one of the Pizza Play House shirts. He asked if she knew where her parents were, and she shook her head. He offered his hand to Elaina, his voice muffled to Sera’s ears, but she felt his malice through her link to the child. Little Elaina reached up and took his hand. Poor child, so trusting, believing she would see her mother soon.

  Sera pulled back from the memory, dropping her gaze. Tears stung her eyes as she took in a breath. Picking up the pen, she began to write what she had seen. The Baby Doll Killer had a nasty scar on the hand he had offered Elaina. She could almost smell something bitter like cigarette smoke; it clung to his uniform. A name flashed through her mind. Elaina had seen the name tag, but that name could be anyone’s if he stole the shirt. Still, it didn’t hurt to write it down.

  Closing her eyes again, she tightened her grip on the pink and blue blood-stained shirt, sinking back into the memory. She didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to know the pain the child felt as the evil man touched her and harmed her, but she needed to see his face—anything to identify him. Poor Elaina, so scared. Sera wished she could do something, but what she saw were just echoes of the past. Everything had already happened, the evil was done, and she was cursed to witness such atrocity.

  Unable to register the passage of time, little Elaina sobbed endlessly in the dark room where she was being held captive. Clad only in her polka-dot underwear and her favorite top, she didn’t want the bad man to come back again. He hurt her when he did. She heard the door open and cowered in the corner of the room. The smelly man dropped another little girl onto the stained mattress, his blue eyes moved and locked on her.

  Sera blinked, pulling back. So, he was a blue–eyed fat man with bushy eyebrows, who smoked cigarettes. Sera rubbed her mouth, bile rising in her throat. It was time; if she could get a clear image of his face, it would be now. Allowing the fear to surge over her, she let out a sob of her own as she felt the pain rushing through the child.

  The man had cut her, she felt something warm leaking down her favorite top. Numbness spread through her as death stepped in, embracing the child, taking her from the horror of this world. Elaina’s last thought was of her mamma and how upset she would be now. She would miss her new Barbie; she would miss her mamma and daddy. The last thing the child saw was The Baby Doll Killer leaning over her, pulling her top from her body, and the gentle tapping of red lipstick to her now cold lips.

  Sera pulled back violently. Shoving herself away from the table, she rushed to the waste bin, emptying the bitter coffee she had consumed earlier into its depth. Retching hard until she felt like she would follow the child into death, she sobbed and brushed loose strands of sweaty hair from her face. A glass of water appeared in her field of vision. The police chief gave her a small smile and offered a hand to help her up.

  “Please tell me you have something, Miss Holt. Anything.” His words were clipped and short, and there was a tense furrow between his eyes.

  Sera shook her head at his proffered hand, pushing herself upright. Reaching the table, she pulled her gloves back on before accepting the water from him. One great thing about glass, it didn’t hold psychic energy for very long. Sipping the water, she ignored the flashes she got from the police chief’s immediate past as her lips touched the glass. Her stomach rolled, the remnants of the pain and fear clinging to her skin. God, she hated the aftermath of a reading.

  It had been worth it though. Sera had seen him—finally, she’d seen his face. Grabbing the pen, she began to jot down the details—hair length, color. His teeth, slightly yellow from smoking. The scar over his left eye slicing through one big, bushy brow. Using the pen, she did a quick sketch of how the scar made his eyebrow jagged, how one of his front teeth was lopsided.

  She pushed the pad toward the chief. He grabbed it up like it was the cure for cancer, rushing from the room. They had a description—now they had another child to find. Sera sat back in the chair, staring at the blood-stained top inside the evidence bag. Elaina would be with her forever now, locked inside her. She would plant a rosebush for the child when she got home. It was the only thing she could think of to put her little spirit to rest in some way.

  The police station had become a bustle of activity. Sera took advantage of the chaos to snatch up her jacket and flee the room. She needed to be out of this city, back in the cool of nature, away from the pain she had felt from that poor girl. Sera shoved her way through the people and had almost made it to the door when someone crashed into her shoulder. A hand reached out and grabbed her, preventing her fall, fingers touching her bare wrist.

  Memories assaulted her mind in that second, surging into her brain. The most recent ones always came first. His family, his job, driving to work. He worked at the police station, a semi-retired officer just helping out. He was a family man, his children had children of their own—such beautiful little dolls. Then it hit her. Sickness clung to him, a terrible sickness of the mind. Sera pulled back quickly.

  Those blue eyes, the scar. His hair was neat now, brushed back. He was clean shaven, dressed in his uniform, and he didn’t smell like smoke.

  She felt it in that second. He needed to take the little girls so he wouldn’t harm his own grandchildren. They were so pretty, so innocent. He made sure they were clean, had their hair done before he left them to be found. They were his beautiful dolls. He could do what he wanted. No one would find him because he knew how to remain hidden. Sera’s eyes went wide as she looked at him, flashes from his perspective sinking into her brain like a
disease. Her stomach rolled, threatening to expel the water she had swallowed earlier.

  The latest girl was still alive. She saw in his mind that he was about done with her, though. She wasn’t innocent anymore; they always became dirty, filthy, so he had to find a new one. A sob burst from her throat, and the man frowned at her. Sera yanked her hand from his grip, stumbling into the wall.

  It couldn’t be! He was a police officer! Sera closed her eyes, the images from Elaina’s last moments rushing through her. It was him. The Baby Doll Killer. She knew without a doubt that it was him.

  He seemed confused now, unable to work out what was wrong with her. Voices were muffled as two other officers walked up and shook his hand. How could they not see it? How could they treat him as if he were one of them? She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. Her voice was frozen.

  “Hey, Jerome! I see you met our little psychic. She got us a description of the that child murdering sonofabitch. Can you believe it?” The two officers recounted to The Baby Doll Killer what had happened. Slowly his cold blue eyes settled on her again.

  She saw it, the moment he realized she knew who he was. His whole demeanor changed, his face shifting from that warm, grandfatherly countenance to twisted sickness. His hand moved to the gun at his side, and he brushed past one of the young officers. Their eyes went wide as he brought the gun to bear on her.

  Sera expected death in that second. Hell, she would welcome it. Anything to stop his sickness from sinking further into her brain. She closed her eyes, waiting for that shot to bring peace. Hearing commotion around her, she opened them once more to find the killer wrestled to the floor by the younger officers.

  “What the fuck, Jerome!” He struggled like an animal, glaring up at her.

  Her voice finally returned, tears burning her eyes as she straightened her back. “You will find the child in his cabin in the hills, locked in the basement. It’s him—he’s the one.”