Mind Games by Christine Amsden Read Free Book Online Page B

especially the eyes, which gleamed with the same malevolent intensity. But Cormack stood at least half a head shorter than his brother, with a much wider girth. He had been by the sheriff’s department every few days since his brother’s murder, demanding answers when we had none to offer.
    “Don’t tell me,” Cormack said before I even greeted him. “No new leads.”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “It’s been a month,”
    “I know how long it’s been.” I also knew that without any new information, we would never learn anything about David’s death.
    He had been found in the woods past town where werewolves were known to run during the full moon. He probably had not been killed there, but rather dumped there by someone who knew about the wolves and had counted on them to help hide any physical evidence. It had worked, since we hadn’t been able to establish a cause of death or produce any useful DNA evidence.
    “Maybe if you and your father would give me some more information about David’s enemies?” I suggested. We’d had this discussion before and I had little hope that it would go any further this time than it had before. Cormack knew things that might help lead me to the killer, but he refused to talk about them.
    “You know we don’t reveal family secrets,” Cormack said.
    “Then what, precisely, do you expect me to do?” I tried to keep my voice flat and emotionless, but I’m sure my irritation showed.
    Cormack flung something onto the reception counter. It only took me a moment to recognize one of the pamphlets from Gateway Christian Church. On the cover, in big bold letters, were the words: “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Exodus 22:18”
    “I’ve seen these before.” The church had been giving out similar literature for as long as I could remember.
    “Open it,” Cormack said.
    Slowly, I opened the shiny red pamphlet, framed in fire, to the familiar text within. It warned against sorcery and encouraged people to fight the evil within our community. Since I’d read it before, none of that caught my attention. But thick, black, handwritten words immediately drew my gaze: “Repent by the next full moon or die.”
    “Where did you get this?” I asked.
    “I found it in the store when I was cleaning out some personal papers.” Cormack pointed at the pamphlet. “David was killed at the full moon, just like it said.”
    Closing my eyes for a moment, I tried to look at the new evidence in a logical, measured way. We didn’t know anything about the pamphlet except that Cormack had found it with David’s personal papers. For all I knew it had been there for years, in which case the timing of the attack at the full moon might have been a coincidence. A lot of magic culminated around the full moon – blood rites, werewolf transformations, and any number of spells.
    But it was a lead, and if there was even the slightest possibility that it might mean something then I had an obligation to follow it. The church changed the format of the hated pamphlets from time to time, which might help me narrow down the timing of the threat.
    “I need an evidence bag,” I called over my shoulder. A minute later someone thrust one into my hand and I carefully placed the pamphlet inside. After so many people had handled it there wasn’t much chance of finding fingerprint evidence, but a handwriting match wasn’t out of the question. Either way, I had every intention of doing this by the book to make sure the only lead in this case remained intact.
    “I’ll follow up on this.”
    “Good.” Cormack relaxed, slightly. “The pastor of that church has had it out for us for a long time.”
    I frowned, remembering something from my initial investigation of the case. “Isn’t he your cousin?”
    Cormack scowled. “He’s no relation of mine. If he killed my brother…” He let the implications hang.
    “In the unlikely event that he did kill your brother, he’ll go to jail.”
    “What if someone