Name of the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page A

closest match to the symbols on his chest, and type them into a search engine. Of course, the results are all in Hebrew and make no sense to me. Well, duh. I’m not sure what I was expecting.
    â€œCheck the image search,” offers Knoll.
    I pull up the first image associated with the letters, and a ghoulish face stares back at me.
    The letters spell out a word.

    The name of a demon.

4
    â€œ S O YOUR THEORY is that these people were killed by a demon?” Vonda Mitchum looks up from the image I just showed her and turns to Knoll as if I’m invisible.
    â€œNo,” I insist, ignoring her slight. “I’m saying McKnight traced this on his chest, in his own blood, before he died.”
    â€œIt looks like gibberish to me.” She points to the upside-down body.
    â€œThat’s because it’s upside-down Hebrew letters, which are of course written right to left.”
    â€œTurn it another way and I’m sure you’ll find a different random match.” She hands the phone back to me.
    â€œIn what? Klingon?”
    â€œI think it’s random,” she says. “You’re trying to make something fit.”
    â€œIf it was the name of the 1986 NBA Championship team, I’d still think it’s relevant,” I reply.
    â€œYou’re not pinning this on Larry Bird,” interjects Knoll, trying to diffuse the tension.
    â€œMen,” Mitchum and I say at the same time. She cracks a smile. The awkwardness between us is broken briefly.
    The spontaneous moment changes my mood. “Listen, I know it’s nutty. I know it’s out of left field. But these people were in a church, and maybe they were performing some kind of ceremony. I think it’s worth noting.”
    â€œNoted.”
    I raise an eyebrow.
    â€œAgent Blackwood, I’ll put it in my case notes. All right?” It’s her way of making a compromise.
    â€œAnd the broken branch?”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.” She forces a smile and walks back to the forensic technicians working on the tree where Mrs. Alsop was found.
    Although she was found like McKnight, there are no symbols on Mrs. Alsop. Knoll stands back and studies her outstretched hands.
    â€œKnow what it looks like?”
    â€œUpside-down crucifixion. Isn’t that what they did to you when you were a really, really awful person?”
    Knoll checks his watch. “It’s what my wife is going to do to me if I don’t get back before the kids head to school in the morning.”
    â€œYou’re leaving tonight?” I ask.
    â€œWhile you were obsessing over that image, they released us. I got a desk full of kidnappings to look over. You got work too.”
    â€œYeah. I know.”
    â€œLeave it to Mitchum. She doesn’t make the same leaps as you. But she’s methodical. You need a ride?”
    â€œI’ll catch one tomorrow in the van. I want to watch the debrief tonight.”
    Knoll rolls his eyes. “Leave some work for the rest of us.”
    T HREE HOURS LATER, after grabbing a tuna sandwich at a convenience store and switching blouses in the bathroom, I’m sitting in the back row of the county civic auditorium as Mitchum lays out what we’ve learned so far to a roomful of local law enforcement and agents from the West Virginia Bureau of Investigation, ATF, local FBI, as well as the remaining stragglers from DC and Quantico, like me.
    She’s a confident speaker. A bit monotonous, perhaps to cover up a fear of not being taken seriously, but still authoritative. “We believe the time of the blast was around ten at night. The damage initially looks similar to that caused by a gas explosion. The blast pushed out all parts of the structure equally. Although no tank or pipeline has been found, it could well be the case that there’s a gas cylinder we haven’t found, sitting in a field somewhere, that went ballistic.
    â€œWe’ve found four victims so far.