Page 1 of A Society of Traitors

Prologue

Hypnotic Suggestions

Chris Tilton

He stood in front of the bulletin board, his hands on his hips.

His mind was racing, almost burning.

He had last been here six months ago, and as always when he entered this room, he felt a chill run down his spine.

He saw her everywhere. Mental images of her. With every book he touched, he heard her clear laughter, still smelled her subtle perfume.

After all this time.

Never could he have imagined seeing her pretty face next to these ridiculous newspaper clippings.

A red thread connected the individual fragments of the bulletin board, making it look like a jumbled mess.

He had come here because something inside him told him that he didn't know the whole story.

Something about all the events had always seemed strange to him. Nothing had ever made sense.

She was dead. He couldn't change that, no matter how much he wanted to. But he could do his best to find out the truth before the lie could consume him like all the other shadows of his family line did.

Usually, he was resilient, in control of his emotions. But right now, he felt his eyes watering.

He wouldn't cry. He had only cried twice in the last thirty years of his short life.

Filled with pain, he looked away from her beautiful eyes and over to his face.

The anger still burned inside him.

That boy with the ash-blond hair. How could he have put her in such danger?

He clenched his teeth, knowing full well that he should be angry at another man. The one who was really responsible for her death. Not the one in the picture in front of him, whose pale appearance made him look like a ghost.

The man turned away from the evidence board and left the room.