Name of the Devil Read Online Free Page A

using to pick debris out of the trees. In the field just beyond, two techs have finally managed to get the aerial drone working so it can take over for the helicopter. Knoll and I search the earth around the tree for clues.
    â€œAny bets that we’re going to find the other four bodies at equidistant points from the blast and each other?” whispers Knoll.
    â€œIt’s not him,” I say sharply, hoping he’s wrong.
    â€œHe’s in jail . . . but he has friends.”
    â€œHe’s not Voldemort,” I retort. “He has a name.”
    â€œThe Warlock,” says Knoll.
    â€œNo. Heywood.”
    â€œThat’s an alias.”
    â€œIt’s a man’s name. Not some super-villain title from a comic book. He’s in jail in Texas awaiting trial. You know this because since we caught him, we’ve spent more time in depositions than actually solving crimes,” I reply tersely. “This has nothing to do with him.”
    â€œI never said it did.”
    â€œYou implied the other bodies might form a pentagram, insinuating he was involved.”
    Knoll holds up his hands. “All I suggested was a pentagram.”
    I roll my eyes. “And I guess the logical conclusion you’re suggesting is that Ozzy Osbourne did it?”
    Knoll lets out a sigh. “Wouldn’t this search be easier for you if you did it from your broom?”
    â€œI’m armed,” I growl
    â€œSo am . . .” Knoll reflexively reaches for his holster to make sure I haven’t pickpocketed his gun. I’ve only done that to him once or twice, but that was enough. He finds it on his hip and shakes his head. “And you wonder why you don’t have many friends.”
    I give him a half smile and keep walking as I think about what he just said. It’s a joke between colleagues, but it stings because it has the worst possible element of a burn: a kernel of truth.
    We come to a stop in front of a large elm tree, similar to the one in which Knoll spotted McKnight. The first branch is about five feet off the ground. At the base of the branch there’s a moist crack, as if someone recently put weight on it and then let up when it began to break.
    Knoll sees this and whistles to one of the agents holding the tape and sticks we use to rope off areas for close-up inspection. We pen the tree around the outside the radius of its furthest branches.
    â€œVantage point?” asks Knoll.
    I shake my head. “I think whoever placed McKnight in the tree may have taken a first attempt here. When the branch started to break, he tried over there.”
    Knoll nods. “Carried or pulled?”
    â€œI couldn’t guess. The autopsy will show us markings suggesting one or the other. Infrared can spot internal bruising under the skin.”
    â€œWhat if they come up empty?”
    â€œI’ll worry about that when it happens. Or rather, Mitchum will.” It’s her case, after all.
    We duck as the drone flies overhead. It weaves through the trees at high speed and vanishes into the woods. Inside a control trailer sitting on the side of the road, a technician watches the live feed from its camera for the other victims. It’s a morbid video game.
    An hour later, three more bodies have been found: Those of the Alsops and Reverend Curtis. Sheriff Jessup is still a no-show. I don’t let on to Knoll how relieved I am that the bodies were not found in anything that looks like an intentionally symmetrical pattern; I can tell he has been watching my reaction out of the corner of his eye. The tension releases from my neck muscles the moment we’re certain of that. We don’t need a replay of what happened before. There are already enough loose ends.
    Like McKnight, our other victims are found upside down and naked in the trees. After Mitchum vanishes to inspect the other victims, Knoll and I hop into the bucket to look at McKnight up close.
    From the ground