A Journal of Sin Read Online Free Page A

on its side, and a brown freestanding wardrobe. A lack of windows made the room feel cramped and tight, a feeling the weak torchlight did little to lift.
    ‘Where do we start with this? I’ll take the left side, you take the right. Search his clothes too in case there are any notes or receipts scrunched in the pockets.’
    He started with the wardrobe. It was a tall and made of dark oak with two large doors and two drawers at the bottom. The clothes had been emptied onto the floor; some were still on hangers. They were mostly casual clothes and vestments, numerous polo shirts in muted colours and faded blue jeans. A black rucksack had been opened and left on the floor. He searched every garment that had pockets but found nothing.
    ‘Some of these pockets have been turned out.’
    ‘Whatever they were searching for, it must be pretty small.’
    She stood the bedside cabinet up. The open top drawer contained a notepad, a small blue pen – the kind you get as a freebie in crossword magazines, a pendant of St Christopher, two small laminated prayer cards and four small sheets of lined paper with handwritten notes. The bottom door opened to two small shelves; on the top was a pair of soil-covered garden gloves and on the bottom was a roll of five twenty-pound notes.
    ‘Shine the torch over here.’ She held the money up to the light. ‘So much for theory B.’ She picked up the handwritten notes. The direct torchlight on white paper hurt her eyes, but they soon adjusted. ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ - Galatians 6:2.’
    ‘Bible verses. More sermon notes?’ he said, looking at the pages. ‘If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld - John 20:22-23.’
    ‘They were looking for something small, something that can fit into a pocket. Given that every inch of this place has been searched they either found it in the very last place they looked, or didn’t find it at all. I’m leaning towards the latter.’
    She shined the torch along the walls and began tapping. The first wall sounded strong, the second just the same. She finished the third and fourth walls with a dismayed look on her face.
    ‘Nothing?’ he asked. ‘They’ve done a thorough search of the place, maybe they found whatever it was they were looking for?’
    Sarah wasn’t convinced. She marched into the main room without saying a word and John followed. Three large pot plants stood untouched below the window. A thick layer of dust covered the rims and the dry, cracked soil wouldn’t be able to keep plants alive. She removed her jacket, rolled up her sleeves and reached down into the first pot until she had earth up to her elbows.
    She pulled out a thin blue notebook. ‘1st November to 30th November 2009. Sean’s one look like this?’
    ‘Yeah. Exactly like that. How did you know they’d be there?’
    ‘I didn’t.’ She enjoyed maintaining the mystery, but in truth, it was simple deduction. The old ladies maintained the garden; these were the only pot plants in his quarters and the gloves in his bedside drawer had soil on them. The soil in the pots wasn’t suitable for growing, but was suitable for concealment.
    All three of the pots hid thin blue notebooks. The top few were covered in soil, but the ones at the bottom were clean, if a little tatty and yellowed. Sarah dusted the soil from her arms and it joined the clumps from the pot on the floor. She spread them out in date order: March 1991 to December 2009. Two hundred and twenty-five books in all.
    ‘What do you think’s in them?’
    Sarah read another passage out loud. ‘She didn’t want to and he knew she didn’t want to, but he continued. He couldn’t say why he did and seemed in a real bother over his reasoning to continue. It was an odd sentiment, not knowing why he was doing something that he knew was wrong. I worry for this one.’ She picked up another one. ‘She knows she