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About ten minutes after they’d settled in, Kiernan Wendiss appeared at the entryway, tear-filled eyes bouncing around like a lost child looking for his mother. When he saw Jo his posture tightened, and he beelined for them.
“Madison’s mom told me there’s been another murder. Is that true?” he asked.
“A friend of Madison’s.” Jo gestured to the pictures on the wall. “Naomie Alexander.”
Desperation and anger battled on his face. “The article in the paper about Madison said something about a Satanic cult? Lucifer something?”
“We’re pursuing several possibilities,” Jo said.
“I looked them up, their group and their tenets and their sigil,” he continued. “I don’t understand. Why would they hurt Madison?”
As he spoke, Jo winced. Because over his shoulder Jo spotted Brad Pratt stepping into the room accompanied by another man—both wearing graphic tees with large silver Sigils of Lucifer.
* * *
Kiernan noticed Jo’s reaction and turned to follow her gaze.
“You have to be kidding me—” He swerved on his heels and bolted toward Brad. “Hey man, what the actual fuck?”
The entire room jerked around to see what was going on. Brad turned to face Kiernan, a smug grin spreading over his face. Brad’s friend lifted his cell phone to catch the interaction.
Jo and Arnett jumped to intercept, but Kiernan was faster than both of them. The second he was within reach, he pulled back a fist and swung.
Brad didn’t even try to dodge the blow. Kiernan’s fist landed solidly on his jaw with a stomach-churning crunch.
As Brad hit the ground, Jo grabbed Kiernan’s arm and threw him back toward Arnett. Arnett grabbed him, snapping a handcuff on one arm, then the other.
Brad’s hand flew to his chin, but he made no move to get up. “I want that guy arrested, right now. That’s assault, and you all witnessed it.”
“And I have it on camera,” the friend said.
Chris appeared at Jo’s side, face twisted with anger. “Assault? When you show up dressed likethatto my wife’s memorial?” He pointed down at Brad. “Arresthim.”
Brad laughed incredulously. “On what charge?”
Chris’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Disturbing the peace.”
“This is a public event, broadcast all over their website. I have every right to be here,” Brad said.
“Wearing that is intentional infliction of distress. You came with the intention of provoking a reaction.” His arm swung to the side, pointing to Naomie’s parents. “What kind of a sick asshole would want to do something like that to grieving people?”
“I have a constitutional right to wear something that represents my beliefs, particularly when my organization is being accused—”
Jo had had enough. She stepped between the two men. “Chris, step back and allow us to handle this. Brad, do you need medical attention?”
“No, but that’s not—”
“Then I need you to accompany me outside.”
“I’m not—”
She pulled out the handcuffs she’d stashed in her blazer pocket and closed them around his wrists. “Now.”
Brad stood, looking up at his friend. “You catching all of this?”
Jo crooked an index finger at the friend. “You, too.”
“What did I do?” the friend said.
