Chasing Evil (Circle of Evil) by Kylie Brant Read Free Book Online

moving fast, his legs eating up distance across the ground.
    The vehicle was racing along the road in front of them, headlights perpendicular to the field but still giving enough light for Cam to see Price ahead. The man tripped, nearly went down. He righted himself, but the action cost him, allowing Cam to narrow the gap between them. Ten yards away now. Five.
    When Price stumbled again Cam dove forward, hitting the man in the back with the weight of his body. They fell hard and rolled, each grappling for the upper hand. Price swung a clenched fist and Cam threw up an arm, absorbing the blow with his bicep while he drew his weapon and pointed it at the man’s temple.
    The fight drained out of Price like steam escaping a boiling pot. Cam could make out the figure of someone jogging in the field toward them. Realized it was the sheriff. The vehicle he’d driven, headlights still cutting through the darkness was parked along the road beyond the field.
    “You’re making a mistake here,” Price wheezed from beneath him.
    Cam eased his weight off the man, yanked him to his feet, weapon still trained on him. “The mistake isn’t mine. Gary Walter Price, you’re under arrest for assault on a law enforcement officer and a host of other shit I’ll think of on the way back to the vehicle.”
    Beckett stepped forward and grabbed the man’s arms, cuffing them in back of him.
    “Okay, just wait a minute, will you? Wait…Jesus, not so tight.”
    “I’m sorry, you find these cuffs uncomfortable?” The sheriff turned him around and gave him a push to start him toward the Jeep. “Compared to say, a board to the head, I don’t think you have much to complain about.”
    “The thing is…” Price looked over his shoulder from one of them to the other. “I was lying back there. I’m not Gary Price. I’m his brother, Jerry.”
     
    “So where were you when this was all going down earlier?”
    The real Gary Price stood just outside the screen door on the front porch of the farmhouse, backlit by the light in the kitchen. He bore an unmistakable likeness to his brother. Unlike Jerry, though, he bore evidence of the fight the night before. The knuckles on his big hands were battered, and one eye was nearly swollen shut, ringed with shades of purple and blue. The two were the same general height, but he had a weightlifter’s build, thick through the shoulders and chest.
    “Been here all night. Must’ve been out in the shed. I do auto repair. Got a car out there I’m working on.” Despite the mild temperatures the man wore jeans, a torn t-shirt that strained across his torso and a watch cap. Price craned his neck to look at the darkened sheriff’s Jeep. Beckett was leaning against the vehicle talking on a cell. “You got Jerry out there?”
    “I do.” Cam gave a slow nod. “Made some calls once he stopped claiming to be you. Your brother’s in violation of his parole by being out of Nebraska.”
    A roll of the man’s shoulders passed for a shrug. “Not my problem. Can’t help what he does. And you had no call to be on my property in the first place. Got half a dozen witnesses last night who’ll swear I didn’t start that fight.”
    “Got a couple witnesses who will swear you threatened to brand a woman with your cigarette,” Cam countered. Now that adrenaline had faded, dozens of spots that had encountered the barbed wire were sending up a chorus of pain. “That something you make a habit of? You like to burn women?”
    The man’s mouth quirked for a moment in fleeting humor. “Bitch needed an attitude adjustment. Might’ve wanted to give her one, but I didn’t, so again, you got no call to be on my property.”
    “Oh, we weren’t just on the property,” Cam responded, testing him. “We were inside your house.” He watched the stillness come over the man’s features and knew he’d scored a hit. “That jacket hanging in the kitchen? The gun in its pocket gave us cause to enter. Your possession of a