The Sinner Read Online Free PDF Page A

had
pursued
her as she fled in terror up the aisle, wrenching off her white novice’s
veil.
As his blows avulsed her scalp, her blood had splashed the pews, yet she had
staggered
onward, until at last she stumbled to her knees, conquered at his feet. Even
then
her attacker did not stop. Even then, he had kept swinging, crushing her skull
like
an egg.
    Avoiding Mary Clement’s eyes, Maura briefly lifted her gaze
to
the wooden cross mounted on the wall behind the desk, but that imposing symbol
was
no more comfortable for her to confront.
    Rizzoli cut in, “We haven’t seen their bedrooms
yet.”
As usual, she was all business, focusing only on what needed to be done next.
    Mary Clement blinked back tears. “Yes. I was about to take
Detective
Frost upstairs to their chambers.”
    Rizzoli nodded. “We’re ready when you are.”
     
    The Abbess led the way up a stairway illuminated only by the glow
of daylight through a stained glass window. On bright days, the sun would have
painted
the walls with a rich palette of colors, but on this wintry morning, the walls
were
murky with shades of gray.
    “The upstairs rooms are mostly empty now. Over the years,
we’ve
had to move the sisters downstairs, one by one,” said Mary Clement,
climbing
slowly, grasping the handrail as though hauling herself up, step by step. Maura
half
expected her to tumble backwards, and she stayed right behind her, tensing every
time the Abbess paused, wobbling. “Sister Jacinta’s knee is bothering
her
these days, so she’ll take a room downstairs, too. And now Sister Helen has
trouble catching her breath. There are so few of us left. . . .”
    “It’s quite a large building to maintain,” said
Maura.
    “And old.” The Abbess paused to catch her breath. She
added,
with a sad laugh, “Old like us. And so expensive to keep up. We thought we
might
have to sell, but God found a way for us to hold onto it.”
    “How?”
    “A donor came forward last year. Now we’ve started
renovations.
The slates on the roof are new, and we now have insulation in the attic. We plan
to replace the furnace, next.” She glanced back at Maura. “Believe it
or
not, this building feels quite cozy, compared to a year ago.”
    The Abbess took a deep breath and resumed climbing the stairs, her
rosary beads clattering. “There used to be forty-five of us here. When I
first
came to Graystones, we filled all these rooms. Both wings. But now we’re a
maturing
community.”
    “When did you come, Reverend Mother?” asked Maura.
    “I entered as a postulant when I was eighteen years old. I
had
a young gentleman who wanted to marry me. I’m afraid his pride was quite
wounded
when I turned him down for God.” She paused on the step and looked back.
For
the first time, Maura noticed the bulge of a hearing aid beneath her wimple.
“You
probably can’t imagine that, can you, Dr. Isles? That I was ever that
young?”
    No, Maura couldn’t. She couldn’t imagine Mary Clement as
anything but the wobbly relic she was now. Certainly never a desirable woman,
pursued
by men.
    They reached the top of the stairs, and a long hallway stretched
before
them. It was warmer up here, almost pleasant, the heat trapped by low dark
ceilings.
The exposed beams looked at least a century old. The Abbess moved to the second
door
and hesitated, her hand on the knob. At last she turned it, and the door swung
open,
gray light from within spilling onto her face. “This is Sister
Ursula’s
room,” she said softly.
    The room was scarcely large enough to fit all of them at once.
Frost
and Rizzoli stepped in, but Maura remained by the door, her gaze drifting past
shelves
lined with books, past flowerpots containing thriving African violets. With its
mullioned
window and low-beamed ceiling, the room looked medieval. A scholar’s tidy
garret,
furnished with a simple bed and dresser, a desk and chair.
    “Her bed’s been made,” said Rizzoli, looking down
at
the neatly tucked sheets.
    “That’s