Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF Page A

TWO
Interrogations
     
    1
     
    As Jake O’Reilly
pulled away from the crime scene, he shook his head in disgust.
    “A bunch of freakin’
idiots,” he mumbled to himself. Jake had been born and raised in Crimson Falls,
and was an avid hunter. How could they not have recognized human footprints?
Jake also thought himself above most people. Most of the townsfolk were simple
and arrogant, with no real reason to be proud of themselves. As he drove toward
St. Mark’s to question Father Matthew McMillan, he wondered if the town would
support him in a bid against Anna for sheriff next year.
    The church was
across town from the Brickton estate, but still only a distance of about five
miles. He passed a few rundown sawmills, most of which had closed their doors
and migrated to the Pacific Northwest for greener pastures. The majority of
houses in town were clumped together in three large neighborhoods at the center
of town. Jake’s father had been a lumberjack, working sixteen hour days for the
Brickton family before they sold most of their businesses. Alan had been the last
remaining Brickton in Crimson Falls, although there had been rumors that he had
a brother who had been given up at birth. Jake figured that there had been an
affair, and Alan Brickton, Sr., had forced his lover to give the child up for
adoption.
    F’ing rich
people ,
Jake thought to himself. He waved to a few pedestrians as he made his way
toward the church. As in many small towns in America, St. Mark’s sat on the
hill, quietly watching over its residents. It was the first building you would
see when driving into town via the main road, long before reaching the streets
that were lined with modest, working class houses. It was as if the lights of
St Mark’s welcomed you home. Although most people were Lutheran and attended
St. Paul’s down the hill and across the street, a sizeable Catholic population
had grown throughout the decades. Jake was one of those Catholics.
    He pulled into
the parking lot of the church and walked into the small administrative building
that also housed Father McMillan and his two Dobermans. As he walked down the
hall toward the offices, the priest appeared in the hallway with a wide smile.
Standing almost 6’7, Jake thought Father Matthew could intimidate people if he
felt the urge. But the black suit and Roman collar made him more approachable.
Not to mention the fact that Jake used to enjoy making fun of Matthew when they
were kids.
    “Well, Mr.
O’Reilly! How nice to see you,” Father Matthew welcomed.
    “Hi, Father.”
    “It’s been
awhile since I’ve seen you at mass,” Father Matthew grinned.
    “Right, I’m
sorry,” Jake said. It irritated him to no end when priests got all high and
mighty, using guilt trips so they can make money for the Church. He looked down
at Father Matthew’s shoes. Sure enough, there were small traces of mud along
the sides at the bottom.
    “No worries, no
worries,” Father Matthew said, leaning down to look Jake in the eye. “I can’t
imagine you’re here for the finance committee meeting.”
    Jake wondered if
the priest was getting nervous. “No, Father, I’m not. Can we talk in your office
for a moment?” The joy faded from the priest’s face when he realized it was
serious. Jake enjoyed using his authority as a police officer. He eyed the
priest for any signs of paranoia. People acted strangely when they know they’ve
been caught. So far the priest seemed normal. But Jake knew that looks could be
deceiving, especially with anything involving religion.
    As Father
Matthew led Jake into his office, he closed the door behind them and showed
Jake to a couch across from an overstuffed leather chair. The priest fell
heavily onto the chair with a sigh.
    “So what can I
do for you, officer?”
    “Alan Brickton
is dead,” Jake said with very little inflection.
    Surprise covered
Father Matthew’s thin face. Although only in his early forties, Jake thought he
looked old and tired.