Bad Samaritan Read Online Free Page B

and dry. By this afternoon, however, temperatures would soar and hit the high nineties. When the thermometer climbed like that, even their summer habits felt hot and heavy. Summers in New Mexico—that was one thing she wouldn’t miss in Denver.
    Glad to have found at least one positive thing about their move, she continued the drive south toward Bernalillo in better spirits. The sheriff’s home was on the northern outskirts, less than fifteen minutes from the monastery. Gloria, Tom, and their children lived in a modest home with a silver corrugated-metal pitched roof. Just east of the main irrigation canal, it was at the end of a shady graveled lane lined with enormous cottonwoods that must have dated back fifty years.
    She arrived in short order and pulled into the driveway behind a blue SUV. The Harley had a distinctive putt-putt, and by the time she’d turned off the ignition, Gloria was already at the courtyard gate. Her hair color had changed many times over the years, most of them variations of blond, but right now it was a truly unattractive auburn that startled rather than flattered. Her eyes were puffy, an indication that she’d been crying.
    â€œCome in,” she invited Sister Agatha as the nun removed her helmet. “I brewed fresh coffee, and I’ve even got some leftover meat loaf Pax might like.”
    Hearing the words “Pax” and “meat loaf” immediately gotthe dog’s attention. He barked twice and jumped out of the sidecar.
    â€œNow you’re stuck. He’ll hound you until he gets what you promised, no pun intended,” Sister Agatha said, laughing as she placed the helmet on the saddle.
    As they stepped onto the brick floor of the Territorial-style home, Sister Agatha glanced around. The living room was impeccable, a rare sight. With two boys—one a teenager and the other in middle school—she’d expected to find the usual clutter of sports equipment and shoes lying around, but today everything looked in perfect order. From what she could see and smell, Gloria had been cleaning the leather sofa and chairs with a spray dressing. The surfaces gleamed, even in the subdued light.
    â€œThe boys took a flight out last night to my mother’s in Phoenix. They protested like crazy, but I didn’t give them a choice. There’s no way I wanted my boys in the middle of all that’s happening.” She looked around the room and shook her head. “When I got up this morning I found that I couldn’t stand the silence, so I started looking for something to clean.” She met Sister Agatha’s gaze. “The quiet at the monastery—does it ever get to you?”
    â€œIt’s a different type of quiet,” Sister Agatha answered after a moment. “It doesn’t mark the absence of something. To us, it’s a reminder that He is ever present, and we commune with God in that peace. If anything, I’d call it . . . soothing.”
    Gloria sighed softly, walking toward the marble-topped island on the kitchen side of the room. “This kind of quiet—the absence of my children—is driving me nuts. The really frustrating part is knowing that with the Internet, my guys can contact their friends and find out what’s going on instantly. There’s no way I can stop that. Even if I said no, they’d find a way. Well, at least the distance will give them some protection from theconstant back-and-forth of allegations and the overall nastiness that’s bound to surface.”
    She waited for her hand to steady, then picked up a carafe from the counter and poured Sister Agatha a mug of coffee.
    Pax, who’d been very patient up to now, sat right in front of Gloria.
    â€œOh, sorry, boy, I nearly forgot.” Gloria opened the refrigerator, brought out a chunk of meat loaf wrapped in clingy plastic, then opened the cupboard. A few seconds later, Pax was busy gobbling up cold meat loaf from