The Sleepless Stars by C. J. Lyons Read Free Book Online Page B

twisted plots?”
    “Since I started hanging out with you,” Ryder retorted.
    “If Grey is on the trail of Almanac and thinks they’re terrorists, then you need to be careful. If he thinks you’re holding out on him—”
    “What’s he going to do, arrest me?”
    “I’m just saying, terrorism is a hot button for these guys.”
    “I know, but I’m a cop, not one of your Russian mob friends.”
    “Keep me in the loop.”
    Ryder considered that. Trusting a civilian with definite organized crime connections more than his fellow law enforcement professionals? Talk about a world gone crazy. He glanced over his shoulder to where Grey was talking on his own phone—no doubt sounding just as paranoid about Ryder as Ryder sounded about him.
    “Okay. But don’t do anything drastic without talking to me. Last thing we need is to piss off the FBI.”
    “Right. Keep me updated.” Price hung up.
    Ryder stared at the phone for a long moment before pocketing it once more. He slogged back through the muddy street—the firefighters’ foam had turned into rainbow puddles covered with a slick of ice—and rejoined Grey. “My guys have nothing on any domestic terrorist cell. So why don’t you tell me what you have? Something must have brought you up here on Christmas night. Something that couldn’t wait until morning?”
    Grey was crouched, the remnants of a biohazard warning dangling from a silver ballpoint pen. He dropped the bit of yellow plastic and stood to face Ryder. “I wanted to see the scene fresh, but thanks to your fire department, I doubt there’s anything of interest left behind. Still, our guys will double-check, just to be certain.”
    Ryder waited, saying nothing, giving the Fed space. Grey pivoted, staring out over the river. Finally, he nodded to the mountain across the water. “Ever hear of the Sons of Adam?”
    “Fringe militia cult. Tried to blow up a hospital in Pittsburgh a few years ago.”
    “Right. They’re back. Under new leadership. More radical than ever. Basically, if you’re not a white, Christian male, you’re fair game.”
    “You think they’re behind all this?”
    “Their new leader calls himself Brother Tyrone. Real name unknown—that’s how good he is at covering his tracks. I’ve been trailing him across the Midwest and up through Appalachia. He’s a charismatic SOB, sets up shop in a blue-collar town, offers his followers thrills along with his own special form of social activism. Snake handling, fire walking... Hell, he’s led sermons from deep down in abandoned coal mines to the middle of a lake during a thunderstorm with tornados and water spouts racing past.”
    “Must make quite an impression. What’s he preach? This activism of his?” Could this Brother Tyrone be connected to Lazaretto and Almanac Care? If so, maybe there were more people infected with fatal insomnia. Ryder was half-tempted to reciprocate and share his own intel with Grey but decided it was better to play it safe. At least for now.
    “He calls it purifying, but it translates to vigilantism. Gets poor folks frustrated with the way things are in their communities all riled up and tells them they can stand up for what’s right, make a change, even if the police and government can’t. By the time he’s done with them, they’ve torn down crack houses, rousted the homeless out of town, burned out sex offender encampments, even firebombed a mosque. Whatever needs purifying—in their eyes—he empowers them to purify.”
    “Including murder?”
    Grey shook his head. “Not until now. Which is why I’m here. Because I have the feeling that this,” he gestured to the debris surrounding them, “is just the beginning.”
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    EVERY OTHER TIME I’d touched someone’s mind, I’d been consumed by darkness. More than black, less than emptiness. A void, infinite and ravenous.
    Not this time. Daniel’s mind was gray fog, swirling thick, so thick it was difficult to tell