The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

retrieved her pack of Camel Lights from her faux-leather purse. She lit a cigarette and hung her arm out the window of her red Jeep Cherokee.
    Her reflection blew a veil of smoke from between her thin lips. “I know,” Cooper said to the mirror. “You don’t look very sexy doing that.” She scowled at the burning cigarette. “I’m going to give these things up. Time for a fresh start, right?” After staring at the weathered brick building for a minute, she straightened the collar of her freshly ironed blouse and said, “Let’s go.”
    Cooper got out of the truck, put out her cigarette using the bottom of her shoe, and walked to one of the church’s side entrances. She paused at the trash can positioned several feet from the double doors.
    “Okay, I can do this.” She threw the nearly full pack of Camels and a plastic Bic lighter inside. The two items hit the bottom with a satisfying thunk. “I never smoked until I met Drew, so if I’m going to start over”—she dug around in her purse until she found a package of gum—“then I’m going to do it with a little help from Wrigley’s.”
    Hope Street Church was unlike any church Cooper had ever experienced. She was accustomed to the small, white clapboard structures of country churches, the pealing of bells at every hour, and rows of lovely stained-glass windows to stare at should the sermon become a tad dull. Hope Street was an impressive brick building whose cornerstone had been placed over one hundred years ago. The original chapel had been expanded after World War I and a roomy wing had been built in the early eighties for the Hope Street Christian Academy.
    Daydreaming students on the north side of the building were treated to a view of the church’s lush garden, while those on the south side were stuck gazing out at the vast parking lot. When the bells called people to worship, the sound was like that of a symphony. The powerful melody carried far across the rooftops and made its way into area subdivisions.
    “This is some church,” Cooper muttered to herself and looked around the deserted hallway. She noticed a bulletin board for Students Against Drunk Driving and a sign-up sheet for prom queen nominations. “I am so glad to be out of high school. I don’t think I could survive it a second time around.” Cooper tapped the bulletin board and listened to the sound echo around her. Where was everyone? She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. Didn’t the service start at nine? Which hallway would take her to the chapel?
    Aware of the noisy clip-clop of her only pair of heels, which had lain dormant in the far reaches of her closet since the office Christmas party, Cooper made an attempt to walk on the balls of her feet. Tiptoeing, she glanced down every hall she passed but didn’t see another human being until she ran smack into a long torso clad in a blue-and-yellow-checked button-down.
    “Sorry!” said a baritone voice coming from over her head. After collecting herself, Cooper glanced up into the face of the very tall man she’d collided with. She saw a pair of warm brown eyes and a slightly bashful smile. It was a pleasant face all around, though rather high in the forehead and sharp in the chin.
    “Are you new to Hope Street?” the man asked softly.
    Cooper nodded. “Yes, and I’m totally lost.” She laughed nervously. “This wing is like a rabbit warren, only I think their burrows smell less like Lysol.”
    The man’s grin widened. “Come on, I’ll show you where to go. I’m Nathan Dexter, by the way.”
    Pleased that she had an escort to the service, Cooper smiled in relief. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cooper.”
    “That’s an unusual name for a woman.” Nathan shook Cooper’s hand. “Must have been a barrel maker somewhere in your family history,” he said as though the idea was fascinating. “I really like familial names. I think it’s a great way to honor an ancestor, you know? A way of uniting people from different