The Taint Read Online Free Page A

road leading to Nathan’s, turning off the lights and engine and gliding to a stop well away from the house.
    The house had a different feel to it, even from a distance. If he closed his eyes he could see her at thirteen, when he and Tim had gotten out of the service and had come to this house to regroup. Her hair worn in pigtails, dark serious eyes—like Tim’s—and a coltish grace. Determined, even then, to be a doctor, and outraged that Tim was planning to go off to join the Los Angeles Police Department only days after coming home.
    And Rachel, again, a scant two years later, at Tim’s funeral. Standing beside Nathan, her face haunted, the new black dress rustling in the hot dry wind. He had given her the flag from the coffin and she held it to her chest, lowering her face but not before he saw the tears. He stood at her side as they lowered her brother into the grave, and put his arm around her to steady her trembling when the honor guard fired the salute.
    It took a few weeks to settle the details, but he quit the police department and moved to Crestview, willing to take Tim’s place as big brother, needing forgiveness in his own mind. The small town life was quiet and unhurried, and soon it was his home. This house was very much a part of it.
    “Welcome home,” he said aloud.
    He pulled back onto the main road and headed toward town, intending to go to the office and fill out a report. The radio was silent and there were no other vehicles on the road.
    He slowed to make the turn onto the old lumber road when he saw something move in the bushes, caught by the headlight beam. The Bronco lurched slightly as he braked.
    For a moment he waited, scanning the roadside. He cut the engine and turned off the lights. Then he stepped out, gun in hand, moving toward where he’d seen the disturbance.
    Whatever had been there was gone, he could sense that. A few snapped twigs, little else. He holstered the gun and walked back toward the road, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.
    There, off to the right, almost hidden, and two and a half miles from the accident scene was Louisa Ann Tyler’s other shoe.
     
     

SIX
     
    The hospital was settled for the night, the lights in the hallways were dimmed and the patient call board was silent. Joyce Callan walked through the building, listening.
    There were only seven in-patients tonight, all in the east wing, and she passed their open doors, shining the flashlight cautiously into the rooms. All was still.
    Had it been a cry that she heard?
    She switched off the flashlight and turned back to the nursing station. She was jumpy, as usual. Even after four years she was unable to get used to being the only night nurse on duty, to being the only one who heard.
    Pulling her dark blue sweater around her, she decided to go through the west wing. Check the empty rooms and the locked office doors along the hall. To reassure herself.
    She leaned over the counter, first, and switched the call board to audio. If any of the patients needed her, she would be able to hear the bell anywhere in the hospital.
    It was even darker in the deserted hall which led to the west wing. The chapel was on this hall but it was locked, the massive wood doors keeping comfort inside. She hurried along.
    As she neared the corner leading to the vacant wing she heard a loud click, like a door catching. From which direction? She hesitated, then began to run toward the southwest corner, to the morgue.
    There was nothing there. She stopped, reaching for the door handle, her breath caught absurdly in her throat. The metal was cool to the touch. The door was locked.
    It was getting to her. She shook her head and turned away. All of the long nights, the endless dark and quiet nights.
    Walking past the solarium along the south corridor, she saw something move in the enclosed courtyard, and chiding herself for her timidity, she moved carefully toward the entrance.
    It was Nora.
    “Nora,” Joyce whispered, coming up beside