Powerhouse triumphantly dropped the evil invisible man on the sidewalk in front of Captain Welch and wiped his hands. “You’ll be going to jail for a very long time.”
The evil invisible man laughed at him. “That’s what you think.”
A sergeant handcuffed the man. “Can I have your name?”
“That’s okay; we’ll find out.”
Powerhouse flew back to Jones’ house. A chill slithered down his back at the napping police officers. He awakened them with jolts of electricity. One of them screamed, “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing? This is no time for sleeping on the job!” Powerhouse spotted darts in their thighs. They’d been drugged.
He ran inside Jones’ house.
Jones lay on the floor of the study. Blood trickled from his neck. Jones sang along with the music playing. “We’re marching to Zion. Beautiful, beautiful Zion. We’re marching upward to Zion, the beautiful City of God.”
“I’ll get a doctor,” said Powerhouse.
“No need. Let me be.”
The reverend sang the chorus once more before the light went out in his eyes.
The police officers came in. One said into his radio, “We have a homicide.”
Powerhouse brushed past the officers. He needed to be alone.
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