Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Two) by Rob Blackwell Page B

confronted Robertson at his home or in the bank and shot him. But slice off his head? That was a particularly brutal and unusual way to kill someone. The only person who had done that lately was… Quinn himself.
    Something isn’t right here.
    A dark and disturbing idea occurred to Quinn. For such an old institution, the bank’s headquarters were relatively new. The branch in town, the sole other branch of Leesburg National Bank, was clustered among every other building along Route 7. But the headquarters, built in 2002, were a little outside of town, sitting on top of a small hill. The path that led to the parking lot was short, but went through a grassy stretch.
    Quinn walked off the path and onto the lawn. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for: hoof prints. Someone had been riding a horse nearby, likely the killer.
    The police will see this too , Quinn thought. They’re going to think…
    The conclusion would be unmistakable. Last year, the spot where Lord Halloween was murdered was littered with hoof prints in the dirt. The story written by Kate and Quinn earlier this year had even made mention of a mysterious horseman. The police were looking for a killer who rode a horse.
    And thanks to Quinn and Kate, it wasn’t just the police. Their story had been a hit. It had worked to calm people down about the death of Lord Halloween, but—perhaps inevitably—it had generated its own wave of fevered speculation. All people knew about the Prince of Sanheim was that he rode through Loudoun County on a black horse, and had a penchant for decapitation.
    This would be tagged on them. Never mind that in their sole letter, the Prince of Sanheim had…
    Quinn stood frozen to the ground, still staring at the hoof prints. The letter had said the innocent had no need to fear. But the guilty?
    It had made it pretty damn clear they were up for grabs. And what could be guiltier than a man who stole from his own people?
    He had refused to admit the thought into his brain until now, but he could no longer see it any other way.
    The killer, whoever he or she was, was pretending to be the Prince of Sanheim.
     

Chapter 9
     
     
    Quinn practically burst through the back door of the Loudoun Chronicle . He took the steps two at a time. When he stepped into the newsroom, he saw Kate look up.
    Meet me in the conference room , he thought.
    Instead she shook her head and he looked over to see Tim coming right toward him.
    “I need that story as fast as you can write it,” he said. “This is going to get a lot of attention.”
    Quinn grimaced but nodded.
    “What is it?” Tim asked.
    Tell him , Kate said.
    But…
    You think the police won’t figure this out , she thought. We can’t look like we have something to hide. Just spit it out.
    “Can we talk in your office?” he asked Tim.
    Tim looked bothered by something, but nodded. Once they were inside, Quinn shut the door behind him.
    “It’s not an angry employee, is it?” Tim asked.
    Quinn shook his head.
    “I don’t think so, no,” he said. “Highly unusual crime scene. I can think of only two possibilities.”
    “Which are?”
    “The first is that an employee killed Robertson and wanted to make it look like the Prince of Sanheim,” Quinn said. “The second is that it was the Prince of Sanheim.”
    “What?” Tim asked. He seemed stunned. “Why in the world do you think he’s involved?”
    “The banker was decapitated, for one,” Quinn said. “I asked around a little—his head was taken off with a sword, apparently.”
    “Just like Lord Halloween,” Tim said.
    Quinn nodded.
    “Doesn’t necessarily prove anything, though,” Tim said.
    “Oh yeah? We have a lot of murders by sword in Loudoun County?”
    Tim frowned.
    “I see your point,” he replied.
    “That’s not the only thing,” Quinn said. “There are hoof prints in the grass and trees near the crime scene. So whoever killed him…”
    “Was riding a horse,” Tim