A Journal of Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t have time to prepare. We all knew this was coming and we all prepared in our own ways,’ Tom continued, the crowd responding with nods and mumbled confirmations. The lady with the purple shawl stood up again as he finished his water, but he waved at her to sit down. ‘I can see why you’re angry, but it doesn’t help the situation. We just have to be patient.’ Sarah wondered whether he was doing this because he knew the town needed a leader, felt some responsibility as one of the oldest residents, or whether he just revelled in being in charge.
    ‘Has anybody heard from Father Michael?’ asked a lady from the row behind her.
    ‘Ahh, I was just about to come to that. As I’m sure word has gotten round, Father Michael hasn’t been seen since the storm. As far as I know, he’s the only person unaccounted for.’ There were a few gasps, but the announcement wasn’t a surprise to most of the audience. Word spread fast around small towns and Sunbury was no different. ‘Now, we’re all very fond of him and I don’t want anyone to panic. He’s a very popular man with many friends here in Sunbury and I’ve no doubt plenty more elsewhere. It’s likely he waited the storm out in absolute safety and we’ll hear from him soon enough. It so happens, by pure luck, that we have PC Gladstone here with us looking into it. I’m sure she’ll be able to tell us more.’ He pointed straight at Sarah and the crowd followed the tip of his finger to the tip of her nose. Her fair skin made a blush hard to hide. She wasn’t prepared for this and had hoped Father Michael would have turned up by now. ‘Officer?’ Tom beckoned her up to the podium.
    She stood up, straightened her blouse and edged her way to the end of her row. The girl with the straight brown hair and baby-fat cheeks looked at her again and John waved from the crowd, but every other face was a blur as her mind raced with what to say. Everything entered her head at once: what she knew, what she didn’t know, what she knew that she couldn’t say and what she didn’t know that she didn’t want to let on to.
    ‘Don’t look so nervous,’ said Tom as she reached the podium, placing one hand on her shoulder. He may as well have given me a pat on the head and a pinch on the cheek, she thought. He was very tall up close and had a sharp face, a Romanesque nose with orderly wrinkles and thinning white hair. His small eyes looked straight through her, before a smile came across his face and he turned back to his audience, ‘PC Gladstone, everyone.’
    They all clapped. It was a strange response and more than likely due to not knowing what else to do. They didn’t often see a police officer here and, if they did, it was only the local bobby doing the rounds from shop to pub to street corner and back again. He was in his fifties, had let his standards go and was due to retire in a matter of months. Sarah was a tall, young officer standing up straight in front of them, who, they hoped, had some answers about what had happened to their friend. This, it seemed, had elevated her to a minor celebrity status.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Speak up,’ shouted a voice from the back.
    ‘Hello. Hello, yes, as Tom said, I’ve been looking into Father Michael’s disappearance. Like Tom said, and from my own experience, it’s often the case that people who are reported missing return soon enough safe and well. I’ve searched his quarters. There were no indicators as to where he was likely to have gone.’ She held onto the burglary and confessional notes. Some things were best kept confidential. Somebody in this room knew about the notes. Somebody in this room committed the burglary and that somebody was hanging on every word she said. Her nerves twitched. She couldn’t slip up. Enquiries, keep it short and sweet, tell them what you’re doing and wrap it up, she thought. ‘So, I’ll be looking to find out who saw him last and if anyone knows any friends or family outside of