Read The Burning Time for Free Online Page A

it was John’s turn. He approached the younger man, his hand outstretched.
    “Reverend Christian, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed your sermon today.”
    The reverend’s black eyes narrowed. “Thank you, sir. And your name is?” He extended his own hand.
    Just as flesh touched flesh with an electric spark, someone bumped into John, breaking the contact.
    “Sorry, dude.” The tall, skinny man with the braided goatee gripped John’s wrist to keep him from falling.
    “No problem. Good day, Reverend.”
    John hurried down the wide steps. Several dozen people still mingled at the bottom, and he wove his way through them, eager to put some distance between himself and the church.
    Christian’s voice followed him. “What’s your name, sir?”
    He ignored the question and continued walking, crossing the parking lot as fast as he could.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Billy Ray Capshaw had been approaching Reverend Christian when the unmistakable figure of Tony Lopez caught his eye. Towering several inches above the people around him, Tony’s Caribbean complexion and long pony tail stood out among the farmers and townspeople like a dog among cats. Even worse, he hadn’t bothered to hide his tattoos, blatantly flaunting them by wearing a wife-beater T-shirt.
    Christ. In a farm town like this, he’s as subtle as a fart in an elevator. What’s he thinking? Focused on his old partner in crime, he’d walked right into a guy talking to Reverend Christian and never even thought to snag the man’s wallet.
    Losing your touch, Billy.
    “Who was that?” Reverend Christian’s voice burst through Billy’s musings, startling him.
    “What? Who?”
    “Get your head out of your ass, Billy. Him.” Christian pointed toward a man with silver hair descending the church steps.
    “The old man? I don’t know. I’ve seen him around a couple of times.”
    “Find out for me.” The reverend entered the church.
    Billy tagged along. “You mean right now?” Following some old geezer wasn’t high on his list of priorities. He had to get Tony alone and make sure the idiot kept a low profile.
    Christian turned around so fast Billy fell back a step. “Is that a problem, Mister Capshaw?”
    The preacher’s eyes were like two black lasers. Billy practically felt their hot gaze boring into his skull, cutting through flesh and bone, exposing his deepest secrets to the light.
    “N...No, it’s just that they delivered the shingles for the roof yesterday, and I need to open them up so I can get started tomorrow….”
    “Billy Ray.” Christian’s voice went low and soft. “How hard can it be to find one man’s name in a town this size? In the name of the Ancients, do I have to do everything myself?”
    “No, I’ll take care of it.”
    The Reverend’s narrow head nodded once. “Good. Ask Mrs. Kapinski. She seems to know everything about everyone.”
    Christian strode away without another word, his boots thumping on the worn carpet.
    Great. Helen Kapinski is the last person I want to talk to.
    Every time the old crone saw him, all she wanted to do was ask him what he’d been up to since he’d left town after high school. Her constant prying was worse than being questioned by that overfed chief, Showalter.
    Fat pig. Everywhere I go, he’s there.
    Billy had run into him just that morning at Rosie’s. Officer Big-Belly had been stuffing his porcine face with steak and eggs when Billy walked in for coffee and a buttered roll.
    “’Morning, Billy Ray. Heard you’re bunkin’ at the church these days.”
    A gob of thick, yellow egg yolk had dropped from Showalter’s lip onto his chin. One fat, sausage-shaped finger came up, scooped the escaping goo and pushed it back into the man’s mouth.
    Billy’s stomach did quick flip, and he was suddenly glad he hadn’t ordered his usual egg sandwich. “That’s right. Reverend Christian said I could stay as long as I want.”
    “Sure beats paying for a room,” commented an older fellow