Glass Houses Read Online Free PDF

phase where this one thing rules their lives. It becomes a scourge of parents worldwide who lose sleep. This one thing is also a bonding opportunity between parents and offspring. Thing is, I never had nighttime soothing sessions. Mom and Dad never had to come to my room in the middle of the night because their daughter was screaming and afraid of the boogeyman under the bed, or ghosts in the closets. I’ve been dwelling on this one thing. Really thinking about it.”
    â€œYou’re talking about being afraid of the dark.”
    â€œExactly,” said Birdie. “I’ve never been afraid of the dark. For me, even as a child, the night brought safety. Night swallowed the fear. That’s why I’ve always had blackout shades on my windows.”
    â€œBut that changed. You’re afraid of the dark now.”
    â€œYes,” she said quietly. “It drives Ron crazy that the hallway remains lit and there’re night lights in my bedroom.”
    â€œIt’s a symptom of post-traumatic stress.”
    â€œThat’s what Ron keeps saying, too. And I know that. But the whole point is that I came to this thought on my own. Frank, it may seem trivial to you, but I’m proud about this realization. You always say to me that I have to own what happened to me because it is a permanent part of me now. And I’ll try. I promise. But for now, I’ve learned something. And maybe that something will help me become less afraid of the dark or lead to another something and eventually my comfort level and actions.”
    Birdie plopped into an overstuffed chair and a puff of dust floated upward and caught the window light of Frank’s rectory office. “You think me silly,” she said.
    â€œNo. I’m glad. Even if it’s a black pug that gets you there. You’re making progress. Slow and steady and forward.”
    â€œYes. That’s what I want.”
    A soft knock on the door announced its opening. A young boy with a mop of blond peeked in. “Father?”
    â€œI’m coming,” said Frank. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”
    The door closed with a soft click.
    Frank kissed Birdie’s head. “This is good. Thank you for sharing.”
    â€œYou know me, Frank. I always share.”
    â€œA little too much sometimes,” he said smiling. “Do you have a confession?”
    â€œNot this week.”
    His eyes shot to the cross hanging next to the window. “Miracles do happen,” he whispered. He made the sign of the cross over Birdie. “ In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti , Dominus vobiscum .”
    â€œ Et cum spiritu tuo .”
    â€œAmen,” they said together.
    â€œBy the way,” he said, “how did Ron command Louise to sit?”
    â€œHe said in a firm voice, ‘sit’ then ‘stay.’”
    â€œHow did he release her?”
    â€œHe said, ‘come.’”
    â€œOnly three words,” he mused. Frank then excused himself. He had a Mass to celebrate. A congregation to attend. Birdie was not his only customer today.
    After he left the room Birdie was struck by the feeling that her vulnerability was not a weakness. It was a strength she had to harness.
    Where did that come from?
    She gazed up at the cross.
    Really? Are you sure?
    One thing she did know for sure. Her lungs were beginning to work again.

eight
    Detective Thom Keane scanned the SID crew. “Who’s what?”
    A woman held up her hand. “Prints.”
    Another woman said, “Serology.”
    â€œI’m Reynolds,” said a man, pointing at the camera around his neck.
    â€œFilm or digital?”
    â€œWhat’s your choice?”
    Thom liked the idea of film for a media case. No one could accuse the department of altering a digital image. “Film,” he decided.
    â€œYou got it. I already shot the exterior, points of entry, generals, and compass points in digital. I’ll