Sweet, Savory and Spiritual
“It’s not a cult,” Reynolds said, his voice breaking. He’d been in the room three hours. The good cop/bad cop thing just didn’t work, but this new line of questioning seemed a bit more promising.
“Then what exactly is it, Mr. Reynolds?” Briggard crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. This was the closest they’d gotten to a member. He slipped up after leaving his teeth imprints in an elderly woman’s half-eaten corpse.
“Typical that a cop is obsessed with the organization. It’s about the spirituality.” Reynolds smiled, dried blood caked on his yellowed teeth. Briggard shivered.