Read The Burning Time for Free Online Page B

sitting next to the chief. Showalter gave the old coot a narrow-eyed glare and returned his attention to Billy.
    “Thought you’d be on your way outta town by now.”
    Billy shrugged. “I can use the money the church is paying. Besides, it’s kinda nice being back in town.”
    Showalter stood up, his wide shoulders and belly blocking out the view of the people behind him. “A wise man once said ‘You can’t go home again,’ or something like that. Things here ain’t the same as they were when you was a boy. I don’t put up with no bullshit.”
    The waitress came back with Billy’s coffee and roll. He handed her two dollars and grabbed his bag. “Good thing I ain’t selling any.”
    He nodded to the girl to keep the change and walked out. He could feel Showalter’s beady squint on his back as he headed for the door.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Now, walking down the back hall to Helen Kapinski’s office, he shook his head and wondered if it was worth staying in Hastings Mills.
    Kapinski, Showalter, a crazy preacher, and now Tony Lopez. I’ll be lucky to grab the cash and get out of here without the cops on my tail.
    Then he thought about how nice it would be to waltz into Vegas with a suitcase full of money in his hand.
    C’mon, Billy. You’re plenty smarter than a dumb cop, an old bag, and a bible-thumper. And if Tony starts causing trouble, well, who’s to say he hasn’t been the one killing those girls? An anonymous note to Showalter might not be a bad idea.
    Feeling better than he had all day, he opened the office door and went inside.
     
    *   *   *
     
    John sat on his bed and tried to slow his racing thoughts. His attempt at finding out more about Cyrus Christian hadn’t been a complete failure, but it hadn’t made things any clearer, either. Just as he’d made contact, the new handyman at the church had jostled him before he could ascertain Christian’s true nature. An unlucky coincidence.
    Or was it?
    It was possible the handyman was involved somehow.
    I’ll have to keep an eye on both of them, while avoiding them at the same time.
    He knew well that the one he sought was not only a master of assuming identities, but in asserting his power over those around him, using mind games and dark magics to pull their strings, like some evil puppet master.
    So I’ll have to watch them both and still keep alert for the man behind the curtain.
    He sighed as a spiritual exhaustion settled on him like a heavy blanket, the weight of the years crushing his soul the same way the heat and humidity seemed to crush his body, sapping his strength from the inside and out.
    In the fading light of the late afternoon, he lay back and closed his eyes.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Sally Mundt twisted back and forth in her bed as the voice in her dreams spoke to her.
    Sally, it’s time. Damon is waiting for you.
    Damon? No, he left me. Dumped me for a cheerleader.
    He made a mistake. He wants you back.
    But...he treated me so badly.
    That’s all in the past. He’s waiting for you, to make everything all better.
    The open window carried the sound of distant dogs howling, and despite the heat, she shivered in her sleep.
    Hurry, Sally. He won’t wait all night.
    “Damon...” she whispered.
    Maybe this time would be different.
    Yes. Yes, it will, the voice said. The softly whispered words echoed in her head, over and over, until they pushed all other thoughts aside.
    Yes.
    Dressed only in her cotton nightshirt, she climbed the windowsill, catching a brief whiff of musky sex from between her legs. Just thinking of Damon made her wet.
    He’s waiting.
    Just as she had when she was a little girl, Sally scurried down the slope of the porch roof and into the branches of the old elm. From there it was a simple matter to shimmy down the branch and drop five feet onto the soft grass of the front yard.
    Where...?
    Go to the bridge.
    The picture appeared in her mind. The Main Street Bridge.
    Hurry.
    Running as if her life depended on