They by J. F. Gonzalez Read Free Book Online Page B

Steve Anderson is. Only these guys—kids, actually, ’cause they were no more than seventeen or so when it happened—were nowhere near the scum Steve Anderson is. Their biggest sin was that they were into heavy metal music.”
    Vince knew what was coming. “They were swept up in a witch hunt.”
    “Right. They were forced to confess and recanted their confessions during the trial. But the prosecution had them. Here they were, long-haired, rock and roller kids and they were the perfect scapegoats. The prosecution successfully branded these young men as Satanists and claimed that the crimes were ritual murders, despite the fact that the evidence said otherwise. The community this happened in is very conservative, and the jury bought it. The prosecution fed on the jury’s fear that these kids were ruthless devil worshippers and that they must be stopped. So they’re currently on death row.”
    “And your deputy didn’t want you to react in the same way?” Vince ventured.
    “Correct,” Tom Hoffman said. “But here’s where the similarities in both cases end. While the men convicted in the Arkansas case definitely had the sophistication to make the murder appear cult related if they wanted, there was no cult related evidence left at the scene to present such a theory. Steve Anderson, on the other hand, has no knowledge or understanding of cults, much less religion in general, and wouldn’t know a pentagram from a hole in his head.” Tom Hoffman paused, eyeing Vince gravely. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
    “For God’s sake, yes!” Vince exclaimed.
    “ This murder is a cult,” Tom Hoffman said.
    The words hung in the air with their grave clarity. Vince looked at Tom Hoffman with a sense of puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
    “You sure you won’t be squeamish?” Tom Hoffman cut off Vince’s impending question.
    “No.” He was more curious now than ever before, yet he could feel his stomach grow heavy with dread.
    Tom Hoffman regarded him warily. Then he turned toward the rear of the house. “Okay, follow me.”
    Vince followed Tom down the short hallway toward his mother’s bedroom. The door to the bedroom was closed, and Tom paused to cast one more look at Vince as if to say, are you ready for this? Are you sure you can handle this ? Vince’s expression told Tom that he was ready. Tom nodded, gripped the door knob with his left hand and opened the door.
    Vince followed Tom into his mother’s bedroom, the crime scene where she met her untimely demise. The drapes over the windows were drawn, making the room shroud-like, the shadows the furniture cast even darker and longer. Tom reached for the light and chased the shadows away with a flick of the switch. Vince blinked and almost stepped back in horror from the scene in front of him.
    The double bed his mother had kept as far back as he could remember was missing, along with the small bureaus that flanked both sides. There was a dried pool of blood on the floor where the bed would have sat, and a spray of blood on the wall where the headboard of the bed would have rested. Toward Vince’s right was a large bureau with a mirror over it. Toward his left was a small chest where he knew she kept her embroidery and crocheting equipment. There was a small closet next to the chest.
    On the wall where the headboard would have rested, directly beneath the spray of blood, was a series of symbols in maroon. There were six of them, drawn in a straight line. To Vince’s eye they were archaic and meaningless.
    “Homicide removed the bed and the bureaus for testing,” Tom Hoffman said, as Vince looked at the room in growing shock. “They’re still running tests on it. The rest of the room and its belongings have already been swept by homicide for evidence.”
    Vince got over the initial shock and took a deep breath. For some reason he expected it to look worse than it was. While he was expecting it to be bloody, Tom Hoffman had built up such a drama