Sympathy For The Devil Read Online Free PDF

finished removing the boards from the lower level windows late last week, this weekend he’d finish the upper level, and then he could get to repainting. Maybe do a bit of landscaping, get the property in order.
    It was the interior that was going to require a hell of a lot of work. Looters had kept out of the house during the past few years, at least, but there was some water damage in one of the bedrooms, the floors could use some refinishing.
    And there was still the question of whether or not anyone would even want the damn house—it would have to be someone out of town, someone who didn’t know the place. But still, there seemed a good chance that after putting in the work this summer, he could get it sold.
    He tossed the crowbar on top of the boards and climbed down. It was early afternoon and he could use a drink after a few hours of work.
    Devin rounded the old farmhouse, past the open shed and weedy gardens in need of tilling. Bugs buzzed in the trees around the property, their songs making the rising temperatures seem even hotter. The rear porch was enclosed with screens and he stopped a few steps from the closed door.
    KILLER.
    Spray painted bright red, lettering quick and choppy. He hadn’t been out back since yesterday afternoon—someone must’ve put it there in the evening or night. Probably while he was...out.
    His lips set in a grim line the longer he stared, rage burning through his veins. Fucking lot of good it would do to call the cops—hell, someone from the local police force probably did it.
    Another trip to the hardware store was in the cards this afternoon, he supposed—a pain in the ass, but nothing he could do about it. If he had the money, he had half a mind to install cameras and catch the little punks next time.
    And there’d be a next time. He knew it.
    Devin stomped up the steps, avoiding looking at the bright red paint in his peripheral vision. He jerked open the screen door and the hinges squealed; he winced, knew he’d have to be more careful because if he damaged anything, he’d just create more work for himself. Still, anger rushed through him and he needed to get out some aggression at some point. At least breaking a door wouldn’t hurt anything but his checkbook.
    Inside was no cooler than outside but at least he was out of the sun. He stripped off his sleeveless T-shirt, dragged it over his neck and torso to collect the sweat from his body, and tossed it at the bottom of the stairs. In the kitchen, he pulled a cold beer from the fridge, held it to his forehead for a moment, then took a long drink.
    Devin leaned against the fridge with a heavy sigh. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here.
    Sure, clean out the house seemed like a good idea at the time. He’d only been planning on doing it for years now—when he first boarded it up and left town, he intended to be back in six months to get rid of it then. But the time had never seemed right and soon years had gone by.
    There was no sense holding on to something dead and buried, though. The house had to go. He glanced around the open concept lower level; already he had boxes everywhere, loading up everything he hadn’t taken with him the first time he left. The few antiques could be sold and the rest would go to the Salvation Army, probably. Then cleaning, painting. He couldn’t get any realtors in town to give him the damn time of day, let alone consider showing the house, so he’d have to seek someone in another county to sell it. Hand off the keys and be done with it.
    Devin polished off his beer. He just could not get out of this goddamn place fast enough.
    The phone rang from across the kitchen—an old corded one he found in a drawer for emergencies, necessary since he hadn’t thought to bring one with him when he returned to town on Monday. He left the bottle in the kitchen, trekked across the creaky hardwood floor, and answered the call on the fourth ring.
    “Hello?” he said gruffly. His naturally deep