Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

92 :: JOHN R. MABRY
“Okay. I think we’ve got enough for now,” said Richard,
putting the phone in Dylan’s jacket pocket and fastening it.
He patted it and they both nodded—it was safe, and they
both knew just where it was. “Let’s do one final sweep of the
house to make sure we didn’t miss anything obvious,”
Richard said. “But let’s take different rooms this time—I’ll
take the bedrooms and bath, you take the garage and
kitchen.”
“Check.”
Just as Richard emerged from the bedrooms after a fruitless
sweep, he waited in the foyer for Dylan and felt a rush
of excitement. Between the phone and the books—and the
evidence at the scene—they actually had a lot to go on. As he
was musing, Dylan wandered out from the kitchen, an odd
and curious expression on his face. “Dude, what’s with all
the avocados in the fridge?”
:: 18 ::
Terry arrived at the hospital in full clerical dress. He was
always amazed at the nearly unlimited access his priestly uniform
afforded him in such places. As long as he was wearing
his priest’s collar, no one questioned him, no one stopped
him, and nearly everyone gave him a deferential nod whenever
he caught their eye. Only occasionally did someone look
close enough to notice his earrings, and he always enjoyed
the double-take that precipitated.
He strode confidently to the information desk. “Randall
Webber, please.”
The young student volunteer set her hand tentatively on
her computer mouse like it was a dangerous beast she did
not know how to control. “Uh...let me see...Webber...