The 4:52 Bell

Four-fifty-two a.m. The temple bell rang eight minutes too early. Inside the office,

the silence was heavier than the drifting incense smoke. A damp rope. A wall clock

stopped at the exact moment of the bell. A shadow in the fog.

A killer moving with absolute, chilling purpose. The incense was lit just before

he died. The priest was waiting. He didn't just meet his death.

He invited it inside.