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The same smell of copper and echoing drips of blood from Mr. Booker’s farm now filled the church’s nave. The scene was gruesome as they come: Father Jonathan’s green robes ripped open and nailed behind his blackening pierced palms like wings. That encircled star the detective had seen too often lately was carved on his…
The room was bright and dark at the same time, but silent more than anything. In front of Patrick Evans was a giant mirror where he could see his disheveled hair, muddy face, and shirt inflated from bandages wrapped around his body like a mummy. He tried not to look at it. He had a…
Thin rays of sunlight poked like spikes over the electrified wall of Perching Tree and twinkled upon droplets of blood thwacking into the mud. A musty decay wafted from the goat’s shredded torso that forced even the seasoned detective to lean back and hold his breath. He shone his flashlight over the corpse. “Well? What…
