Free Jericho's Razor by Casey Doran Page A

what they do.”
    â€œYeah, well, this asshole is a celebrity now. Did you see that hood? It’s like he’s some wannabe Zodiac Killer or something.”
    â€œI’m not sure you want to make that connection, seeing as how the Zodiac Killer was never caught.”
    â€œTrue.”
    â€œHe said he’ll strike again. Soon,” I said.
    â€œYeah. I caught that. Any ideas on who this person is yet?”
    â€œWish I did. It’s not some random psycho, I know that much.”
    â€œHave you boarded up that door from the alley yet?”
    â€œGot it this afternoon.”
    â€œGood man. Keep the .45 handy. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I have a bad feeling it’s about to get worse.”

Chapter Six
    From the Peoria Examiner :
    River City Slasher Tells Peoria He Will Strike Again
    Death has fallen upon our community in the form a man who calls himself the River City Slasher. This mysterious individual used Action Channel Eight to announce that not only is he the person responsible for the heinous murder of Sean Booker, but that more victims will follow.
    Only speculation can be made as to this individual’s true identity. Many believe that it is local author Jericho Sands. Sands claims to have discovered the dead body of Sean Booker in his building, but has no credible alibi for the crime. According to Congressman Preston Masters, “The police are looking very diligently into Mister Sands’s involvement in this terrible atrocity.” When asked further if he believed that Sands would be capable of committing such a crime, the congressman responded, “This is an individual who has a record of violence and unprovoked attacks. It would not surprise me at all to learn that Jericho Sands was the perpetrator of this hideous crime.”
    As yet, the police department has not made an arrest, nor have they identified any other persons of interest.

    I ate breakfast standing over the kitchen sink, evaluating my current situation: “person of interest” in the worst crime to ever strike the city. Ex-boyfriend of the hot lead singer of Peoria’s favorite punk band. Sworn enemy of the most powerful congressman in the state. Target for a killer with an unhealthy fascination with my books. It was a lot to digest. Luckily, being a pariah was nothing new to me.
    From the window I looked down and saw news vans lined up on the street like beggars for a hot meal. Their logos glistened in the sun, antennas broadcasting to their home stations. I turned on the news and saw a reporter standing outside my building. A caption read REAL LIFE HORROR . A box in the upper corner of the screen played footage of Sean Booker’s body being wheeled out of my building on a stretcher—or rather what was left of his body. A black tarp prevented the camera from getting a good look. But something about the way the tarp folded abruptly at the shoulders made it almost as bad as seeing his head laying twenty feet away from his body.
    Along with the news vans, a mob gathered around a burning barrel. They tossed copies of my books into the fire like offerings to an angry god. The reporter interviewed a man identified as Pastor Albert Grimes from Sacred Virgin Church.
    â€œWe are here to let our voices be heard!” Grimes shouted. “The works of Jericho Sands go against everything a decent, God-fearing community stands for! We want him out of our bookstores! Out of our town! And out of our lives! It is because of him that this has happened! He has brought this evil upon us! He has brought this evil to our community and to our children!”
    I watched, grinding my teeth.
    â€œJericho Sands is an outsider! An invader! A cancer!”
    The protesters waved signs reading JERICHO SANDS WILL BURN IN HELL .
    â€œI am extending an offer. Let Mister Sands come down here. Let him explain himself. Let him tell these good people his reasons for poisoning our society. I want to