Guilt Read Online Free PDF Page A

order.”
    â€œBut I—” Jackie sank into a chair. “I know that. Damn. I just wasn’t letting myself think about it. Where are we going to go?”
    Already Annie was making a mental list of shelters to call. Worst case, they’d come home with her. “First thing tomorrow, Chip will go with you to file the restraining order. He’s got copies of the paperwork. I’ll find you a place to stay tonight and tomorrow night, until we know Joe has moved out.”
    Just then Annie remembered. Damn. She was supposed to meet her sister, Abby, for dinner. Abby was finally ready to talk about the new man in her life, the Mr. Wonderful who’d been monopolizing her evenings for weeks. Annie was dying to know, and given Abby’s track record, afraid to find out. If she had to cancel tonight, there was always tomorrow, she thought, fingering the white coffee mug on her desk. GOT GRITS , it said in black letters. Mary Alice had brought back a bunch of mugs like it from South Carolina after Christmas break. She’d filled each one with a baggie of what she said were the real thing—stone-ground grits. Something was missing from your life, she’d told them, if you’d never had them the way her mother served them, “hot as Hades” and slathered with butter.
    Annie felt a lump rising in her throat, the letters swimming beyond a veil of tears. Then Jackie and Annie were holding each other, trying to muffle the sounds so Sophie wouldn’t hear.

4
    D ETECTIVE S ERGEANT Joseph MacRae gave a tight nod as he strode past Peter and into Chip’s office. His face was taut, and his red hair cut military-short. He was not a big man, but he filled the space around him like a charged wire.
    Peter gave him a throwaway “Good to-see-you.” Though not Peter’s favorite person, MacRae was a pretty decent police detective.
    Annie shepherded Jackie into the office, too, and closed the door behind them, leaving Peter in the outer office with Sophie. Peter checked the wall clock. They were expecting him back at the Neuropsych Unit in a half hour. He didn’t like leaving the folks he worked with hanging, and he wasn’t thrilled about being left to watch a seven-year-old.
    He called Gloria Alspag, the nurse in charge of the unit, to say he’d be getting back late. She gave him a thorough chewing out. Why hadn’t he called in earlier? She’d been frantic with worry when she heard about the bombing, everyone had, since they knew he’d been heading over to somewhere in the Harvard Square area. By the time he hung up she’d made him feel thoroughly chagrinned.
    Sophie was on the floor drawing. She gave him a frank, appraising look—a man she’d never seen before today—pushed back her hair, and went back to her picture. Peter didn’t have a lot of experience with kids, so he hung back. Child Psych 101. Meet them at their level and don’t be threatening.
    â€œHey, that’s pretty neat,” he said.
    Sophie drew eyes on the smallest of three figures. She concentrated and gripped the blue marker, the tip of her tongue visible between her lips. She’d already finished drawing a big black creature with short, pointy ears, and a medium-sized blue one with tall ears. A family?
    Peter checked the clock again. Two minutes had gone by. He wondered how long he’d be stuck there.
    â€œHey, mister, you don’t have to babysit me,” Sophie said. She looked up with sharp eyes. “I’m not a baby.”
    He felt properly chastised. Sophie went back to drawing red lines radiating from a red sun. She didn’t have a yellow marker. With her nose so close to the paper, he hoped she wouldn’t get high off the chemicals that permeated the air. She shifted so her back was to him.
    What was the matter with him, anyway, getting intimidated by a little girl? Let’s see, introducing yourself is always good. He pulled over a