Free Colder Than Ice by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page A

control. Finally he drove out of town and got himself a different car.
    A few hours later he was back at Lizzie’s house, in a dark blue,late model sedan almost as unremarkable as the first car had been. He’d transferred all his supplies into this one. The trunk was filled with various controlled substances, some of them too powerful even to be carried by the average pharmacy—like the vial of salmonella, a bit of which he’d used on poor Nancy Stillwater’s picnic lunch. Cruel, but effective. It wouldn’t kill her, though she would be terribly sick for a week, maybe longer. That was all he needed.
    Mordecai didn’t kill unless Spirit dictated it. He wasn’t a murderer. He was a tool of God. Besides, Nancy wasn’t an evil woman. She’d even phoned him to see if he, too, had become sick. When he said he hadn’t, she ruled out her picnic lunch as the source of the food poisoning and wondered aloud where she could have picked it up.
    He parked the car in a pull-off, where autumn foliage concealed it from view. Then he walked back to Lizzie’s house and took up a position on a tree stump just inside the edge of the woods across the street. This time he had a video camera, a digital camera and a pair of high-powered binoculars.
    He never let her out of his sight for the rest of the day.
    A woman delivered groceries around eleven. Beth ate an early lunch, alone at a small table in her kitchen. Yogurt and a banana. After lunch, a teenage boy showed up, and Mordecai recognized him even before he raised the binoculars for a closer look. It was young Bryan.
    He and Lizzie worked over textbooks in the living room.
    I have a private tutor. The boy’s voice repeated the words in Mordecai’s memory. He closed his eyes, thanked his guides for putting the boy into his path, apologizing again for doubting them earlier. The boy was more than just an honest young man and heir to Mordecai’s gift. And more than a signpost,pointing the way to Lizzie. He was connected to her in some way. Connected to him, too. He marveled anew at the intricate web of the universe and the complex machinations of almighty God. The brilliance of linking Mordecai to Lizzie through this new child. The son.
    â€œNo wonder I couldn’t find her right away,” he whispered. “She barely goes out. She’s entirely self-contained. Except for that run in the morning.”
    When Bryan left, Lizzie worked out with a punching bag that hung from the ceiling in a corner of her living room, shocking him with the power and fury of her blows. Then she showered. Later she made herself a solitary dinner and went to bed. Alone.
    Always alone, Mordecai. She’s changed. Like a lone wolf now, she thinks she’s independent, thinks she’s strong.
    And you know why, don’t you, Mordecai? She’s waiting. She knows you’ll come for her, and she thinks she’s preparing. Thinks she’s going to be ready.
    Thinks she can defeat you.
    Defeat God.
    Mordecai lowered his binoculars and closed his eyes. “Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie. Don’t you know you’ve only made matters worse by adding the sin of pride to the list of things for which you must be punished?”
    He drew a breath. He didn’t want her proud and independent and strong. Before he revealed himself, Mordecai wanted Lizzie reduced to the needy child she had been once; the lost, confused runaway who saw him as a savior.
    She has to die, Mordecai. It’s her fate. You need to correct a terrible flaw in history. She’s supposed to be dead.
    He tightened his jaw. “She has to be taught. She has to bestripped of every ounce of pride and rebelliousness, and returned to a state of purity and humility. She’ll come to me on her knees then. She’ll beg me to take her back.”
    Are you questioning us yet again? Haven’t you learned better? She has to die!
    â€œStop!” Mordecai pressed his hands to his