In the Arms of Stone Angels Read Online Free PDF

it never hurt to stall. After all, I’d lived my life procrastinating. And that wouldn’t change anytime soon, not if I could put it off.
    But my biggest reason to stall was that I left home without ID. What the hell? Who knew?
    In the pale glow of my flashlight, I got a look at the badge of Deputy Will Tate. He wasn’t ancient like Sheriff Logan. This guy was much younger. If I had to guess, I would say he was in his mid to late twenties. And he definitely tipped the scale toward cute. He had short brown hair and kind blue eyes with a faint dimple on his right cheek when he talked. The deputy hadn’t been around two years ago when I had my troubles. If he had, I would have remembered him.
    The way I figured it, I had a slim shot at talking my way out of being hauled in for trespassing by this deputy, except for one obstacle.
    Talking. I hated talking, especially in sentences.
    It wasn’t my thing, but I had to give it a shot. I sure as hell didn’t want Mom to find out I’d gotten busted on my first night in Shawano. And when I thought of facing Sheriff Logan again, I would have preferred eating glass to spending more time in his jail.
    Talking. I had to talk. Shit!
    â€œHow did you know I was here?” I asked. A girl had to know where she went wrong.
    â€œI saw you scale the wall.” He didn’t look happy. “What were you doing in the cemetery at this hour?”
    It didn’t take me long to come up with an answer.
    â€œMy grandmother died and I came to see her. To talk to her.” I had plans to visit Grams before I left the graveyard. I hadn’t completely lied. “I missed her funeral and my mom and I just got back to town. I had to see Grams. We were close, real close.”
    I nodded and shoved my hands into my jean jacket, avoiding his eyes. I never knew what to do with my hands. And even though I was laying it on thick, what I’d told him hadn’t all been lies.
    â€œBy now you’re probably figuring out that I left home without ID. I didn’t figure I’d get carded at the cemetery. My name’s Brenna Nash. My mom and I just got in to Oklahoma from North Carolina today.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Using my thumbs, I keyed up the ID on my phone. “See? That’s the 411 on me. And my cell number has the area code for North Carolina. I live in Charlotte.”
    He eyeballed me sideways, like he still wasn’t sure.
    â€œWhere are you staying here?” he asked.
    â€œMy grandmother’s house. I’m helping my mom fix it up to sell.” I gave him Grams’s address and told him about my mom being a Realtor, like he cared. “Like I said, we just got to town and I couldn’t sleep. I had to see Grams.”
    I chewed on the corner of my lip, hoping to God that he didn’t ask me to show him where Grams was buried. If he knew I was blowing smoke, he’d bust me for sure. DeputyTate narrowed his eyes and focused them on me. I knew he was sizing me up.
    I suddenly wished that I hadn’t lied to him. He had the kind of eyes that made me want to tell the truth—like lying under the stars—but when it came to self-preservation and avoiding a night in jail, all bets were off.
    He handed back my phone and said, “I’m driving you home. Come on.”
    â€œBut here’s the thing, Deputy Tate.” I winced. “Mom doesn’t know I’m here. And if I come home in a patrol car on my first night, she’d freak and ground me for life. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was only visiting the grave of my dead grandmother.”
    Playing the dead grandmother card was getting old, even for me.
    â€œIs there any way you could cut me some slack,” I asked. “You know, as a welcome-home gesture?”
    â€œI’m not the welcoming committee, Ms. Nash.”
    â€œI know, but you’re a young guy. You know what it’s like,