Sleep No More Read Online Free PDF Page B

adrenaline rush, reached inside her purse. "Sorry. I forgot to turn it back on after the funeral." She turned the phone on, its cheerful welcoming tones ringing hollowly in the room.
    Father Kevin pressed a kiss on the top of Maggie's head and mumbled, "You're all right."
    "We didn't mean to worry you," Abby said.
    Father Kevin straightened and released his niece. He drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Sorry. I overreacted--with the rain-slick roads and all."
    As Abby handed him the cell phone, his eyes still held the glitter of agitation and his face was shiny with perspiration.
    "Are you all right?" she asked. "Let me get you some water."
    "I'm fine. Fine." He put a hand on Abby's arm and took a step toward the office door, escorting her out. His hand was trembling.
    Maggie said, "I'm going on to the house."
    Father Kevin's head snapped her way. "No!" He paused. "I'll only be another minute here. We can share the umbrella."
    Maggie shrugged and flopped into the worn leather chair across from his desk.
    He walked Abby to the office door. "Thanks for taking Maggie along. She always enjoys it." His voice had the tone of manufactured casualness.
    "They all love to see her come." Abby didn't have the heart to bring up the question Maggie posed on the ride home. "And she's great company for me."
    "She's a special girl." He looked toward his niece with heartbreaking tenderness. Not really surprising. Maggie could stir protective instincts even in the most callous heart.
    "Yes, she is." Abby agreed. The sheen of perspiration seemed to be disappearing from his face. "You're sure you're all right?"
    He nodded and put one hand on the doorknob, giving Abby a gentle nudge with his other. Clearly he was embarrassed by his behavior and was anxious to get her on her way. "Good-bye, Abby. And thanks again."
    "Good night, Father." Abby moved through the open door and it closed quietly behind her.
    She glanced toward the sanctuary on her way out. A dark figure huddled at the kneeling rail. Candlelight reflected the pale oval of his face. He was not bowed in prayer or gazing at the crucifix, but staring directly into the hallway where Abby stood. The instant their eyes met, he turned away and bowed his head.
    Feeling like an intruder on the man's solitude, an eavesdropper on his prayers, Abby hurriedly headed for the side door.
    Yet another feeling ran just beneath her embarrassment, the nagging of something being off, out of place.
    She nearly turned around and went back to knock on Father Kevin's door to make sure he knew someone was in the church. Recalling the look in his eyes as he'd hurried her out his office reinforced the fact that she was a visitor here; she needed to leave both the parishioner and the priest to their privacy.
    As Abby got in her van and started the engine, it dawned on her what had bothered her about the man in the sanctuary; he still wore his hat.
    Let Maggie get one look at that and she'd make certain the poor guy wouldn't make that mistake again.
    Jason leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. It had grown dark nearly an hour ago. The desk lamp in his office was the only illumination in the house. He got up, stretched his arms over his head, and shut the lamp off. If he was going to eat, he'd have to go out. The kitchen was bare, as it usually was on the weeks when he didn't have Brenna. He wondered why dining out by himself felt less lonely than grocery shopping for one. He supposed it had something to do with living in a small town; invariably, he ran into someone with whom he could have at least a passing conversation.
    The rain that had begun during Vera's burial had settled in like an uninvited relative. Jason ducked his head into his collar as he hurried to the detached garage, thinking that Lucy was having enough trouble with her grief without dreary weather compounding it. She'd seemed to fold in on herself as Bryce had helped her to the family car at the cemetery.
    Jason put up the garage door, but