Bishop's Folly Read Online Free PDF Page A

waves.
     
    “Well, thank you for this conversation.” Stella bowed her head, her heart calming at Newb's sureness. However, she didn't want her relief to be blatantly advertised. Her feet already headed for the door as she spoke over her shoulder to Thomas, “I should let you get some rest, Mr. Shupe.”
     
    “Thank you, Agent Holmes,” the young man murmured. His tone was suddenly soft and exhausted. Stella paused in the doorway, glancing at the young man. Thomas Shupe pressed his head back against the pillow, his chest rising and falling with effort. Sympathy and regret wavered through Stella as she wordlessly watched him.
     
    “Excuse me, miss–” The sentence stopped suddenly from the corridor. Stella snapped her gaze to the two men who shifted from foot to foot. Both wore the kuttes of the Seven Tribesmen. One held a box of chocolates in his palms. Two names lit up in Stella's mind: Patrick McFarley and Ross Franklin, two intermediate members of the 7T.
     
    Both of their expressions darkened and became stiff. In unison, they muttered, “Agent Holmes.”
     
    “Mr. McFarley. Mr. Franklin.” Stella swallowed and returned the nod. Quietly, she stepped out of their way. Tension laid heavily between the three people as the two men sidled inside the room. As soon as they entered, their expressions lightened. They grinned at the sleeping Thomas, setting down the gift chocolates. The other gingerly tugged the blanket over Thomas's torso, smoothing down the blanket. Together, the men sat down near Thomas, like a couple of dogs next to a sickly child.
     
    Stella hurried off down the corridor. Her thoughts swung around what Thomas had said, Bishop's feelings, and the scenes she had witnesses today. Despite her paranoia and her sense of propriety, the woman began to wonder if the Seven Tribesmen truly were greedy or out to protect what they considered important to them.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    When Stella made her way into the police department, her thoughts continued to swirl around the Seven Tribesmen. Her head resonated with Stan's suspicions. Her heart fluttered at the very thought Bishop thought so highly to put himself – and, by proxy, the whole of the 7T – at risk for her. The swooning romance heroine in her thought it was romantic. Stella's practical side felt it was short-sighted and absolutely horrid to put the Seven Tribesmen on the line.
     
    She was still mulling over these thoughts when she realized her feet had landed her in front of Stan's office. Her hand hovered over the doorknob as sudden dichotomy took over her thoughts. Could she talk to her partner? Trust him? Or was Bishop weaseling his way into her head, her heart, and her trust? She nibbled on the inside of her cheek before her ears registered the voices inside Stan's office.
     
    “-no one saw me.”
     
    Was that Delilah Sampson? Stella's eyebrows furrowed, her senses picking up on movement on the other side of the door. She scurried away from the door, glancing around the corridor. A few feet away, a door loomed with “supply closet” along its front. Stella raced to the small room just as she heard the blinds clatter. She ducked into the closet, heart racing and gasping quietly. A sick premonition danced among her thoughts, and she moved toward the wall adjoining Stan's office.
     
    “I didn't have any make-up on, and I played the part of a demure nurse.” Delilah's voice wafted from overhead. Stella's gaze shot upward, eyes meeting a vent. Her heart shuddered as she hauled herself onto a metal shelving unit. If she could hear them, maybe she could even see them. As Stella climbed atop the shelving unit, arms wrapped around a supporting bean, she craned her neck. Peering into the grate, she could make out the inside of Stan's office.
     
    Delilah sat, legs crossed at the knees, on Stan's desk. She smiled coyly. Somewhere to Stella's right, out of her range of sight, Stan answered the redhead, “Are you sure?”
     
    The redhead