“What do you think?” Nick said.
“Personally, his celebration of evil offends me. The author shows a lot of pain between the lines—a struggle to cope with disturbed, unresolved feelings. At a glance, I’d call him tortured. Someone taught to look at anger as wrong without defining or exploring the source. The text sounds like he moved to the dark side to justify his unresolved feelings and redefine himself to align with his pain.”
“Any comment on devil worship?” Nick said.
“As a therapist, I view it as an ineffective and troubled attempt to resolve complex internal issues. His devil imagery projects sexuality and anger,” I said. “How do you interpret this? Is his message meaningful enough to last thirty years? How would it relate to Laycee’s murder?”
“Rick’s message isn’t unique. He plagiarized the core spiritual principles of Anton LaVey, a magician and occultist from San Francisco who started an atheistic sect glorifying the self in the sixties. I’ve seen the triple cross notation in spiritual and Wiccan practices, a shorthand instruction to repeat an incantation or prayer three times, but never in connection with the LaVey sect or any theistic devil worship groups,” Nick said.
“Narrowing the field of possibilities for finding Laycee’s killer. How many devil groups are there?”
“Countless. Devil worship is widespread, without a centralized leader, and the individual groups are intensely secretive. It’s impossible to list or track down every sector. This is definitely the numbered inverted pentagram I remembered. I’ll get the images to Eagleton, but this part of the trail might end here.” Nick set the pamphlet on the table then repacked the rest of the box. “I wonder if the author is still alive.”
“I want to hear the rest of the story,” I said. “Who did Rick kill?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t remember. I’m amazed I recalled as much as I did. I don’t even know his full name.”
“I think I do.”
Chapter Eleven
I opened the pamphlet and showed Nick the title page. “Divine Right” was centered at the top in large capital letters. In smaller letters below the byline: By Herrick Schelz.
“Rick—short for Herrick,” I said.
“Can’t argue with the obvious,” Nick said, smiling.
“Now that we’re this far, don’t you have access to old newspaper articles? I’d like to read about his trial and see what happened to his family.”
“I love it when you challenge me.” He reached for his computer.
We curled up together on the sofa, my arm resting on Nick’s shoulder as he clicked the keys on his laptop. Soon the archive section of the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette filled the screen.
He drummed the side of the keyboard. “Let’s see. I was twenty-three the year I took the trip. The guy said the family moved to town…”
As Nick studied the ceiling to work out the math, I opened the pamphlet to the second page. “The copyright is 1984. Start there?”
In a few quick keystrokes, a list of choices appeared on the screen. Nick clicked on the first article, and we read together.
DEVIL WORSHIPER SENTENCED TO LIFE
The Fort Wayne Journal Gazette
June 23, 1985
Herrick Schelz was sentenced to 50 years to life this afternoon for the 1984 murder of an Indiana social worker.
Early this month, Schelz, 38, was convicted of the brutal stabbing death of Adan Hunter at the Schelz home outside of Greenburg. Hunter, married and the father of three young children, was 34 at the time of his death.
In closing arguments in the penalty phase of the trial, Elkhart County prosecutor Carl Cates asked that Schelz be given the death penalty for the killing. Defense attorney Kenneth Rosenfeld urged the jury to be merciful, citing Schelz’s extreme emotional disturbance as justification for a lesser sentence. He acknowledged his client’s beliefs were “bizarre,” then cited the right of religious freedom. He stated that Schelz could finish his life in prison without posing a threat to society.