Free Devil's Kiss by William W. Johnstone Page A

as always.’ Excuse me, ladies, Sam, but Walter said, ‘Joan had some good pussy.’ The deputy laughed and said, ‘Prime gash.’ Then they walked on. I didn’t know what to do, or even if they were talking about the missing Joan. I didn’t sleep much last night. Tossed and turned. I’m glad I’ve got it off my chest. But Sam, what’s a Coven?”
    Jane Ann’s eyes darkened as she stared at the book on devil worship and possession. She said nothing.
    â€œYou’re sure they said Coven?” Sam asked.
    â€œI think so, Sam.”
    â€œAnd now you believe they were talking about young Joan?” John asked, ignoring the question about the Coven.
    â€œYes, I do, John.”
    Sam made no more mention of the Coven, hoping that question would die. He wanted more time to think and act before answering that. Coven!
    Jane Ann sat wringing her hands nervously.
    John sighed. “I’ve never seen such a dramatic change in a man as has occurred with Walter. All in the past six months. Never been one iota of gossip about him—until recently.” He shook his head. “Call it a cop’s intuition if you will, but I’ve suspected for some time that Walter knew more about those kids than he was letting on. Now, this.”
    â€œBlack Wilder,” Jane Ann said.
    All eyes turned to her. “What?” John asked.
    â€œNothing happened until he came in, bringing his dig crews. As soon as Wilder came in, things began happening. Strange things.”
    â€œI agree with her,” Sam said. “We talked about this a couple of hours ago. John, can you run a check on this Wilder?”
    â€œI already have, Sam,” Benton replied. Weeks ago, as a matter of fact. I ran them all out at the Dig—just as soon as those kids were reported missing.”
    â€œAnd?” Chester asked.
    The Chief shrugged. “Nothing. They’re all clean. Oh, one thing did crop up: most of them belong to one of those kooky cults based in New York.”
    â€œWhat kind of cult?” Sam asked.
    â€œIt’s a church, or a religion, they claim. But I’ve never heard of it. It’s called the Church of the Fifteen. Some kind of French words after that. What was it? Oh, yeah, Le Diable. That’s probably the wrong pronunciation, my French is not very good. You ever heard of that church, Sam?”
    â€œYes, I have.” But he would not elaborate. Chester looked at him curiously. Jane Ann stirred, but said nothing.
    The Chief rose to his feet. “Well, I have a suggestion, folks. We’ve thrown a lot of assumptions around here this morning. A lot of hearsay, some gossip. But we haven’t proven a thing, so let’s just keep all this to ourselves. I’m going to call the FBI just as soon as I get back to my office. I’ll find out if Walter notified them as he claims he did. Then I’ll get back to you all.”
    â€œOne more thing, John,” Sam said. “Did you listen to the radio station much—while it was still operating?”
    The Chief shook his head. “No, can’t say as I did. Don’t like hill-billy music and can’t stand this new rock and roll. Why?”
    Just curious, that’s all.”
    When the door closed behind the Chief, Chester asked, “What’s all this about the radio station, Sam?”
    â€œJust a hunch, Ches. Forget it. It’s probably nothing.”
    â€œSam?” Jane Ann said. “The Church of the Fifteen. Remember what Best said to me?”
    â€œYes, I do.”
    â€œLe Diable?” Faye said. “What does that mean?”
    Sam’s gaze touched them all. “The Church of the Devil.”

SIX
    After being assured that Jane Ann was, of course, welcome to stay with the Stokes as long as she liked—they wouldn’t have it any other way—Sam left, heading for home. He felt . . . evil around him, and knew, somehow, it was not his imagination.