The Angel (The Original Sinners) by Tiffany Reisz Read Free Book Online

phone.
    “You’re the pro,” she said, giving her phone to Patrick. “I’m
just a war correspondent. Show me how it’s done.”
    Patrick sighed heavily and flipped his laptop back open.
Peering over his shoulder, Suzanne watched as he looked up the phone number for
the chief editor of the Wakefield newspaper. Patrick dialed the number and
talked his way past a few peons.
    “Patrick Thompson for the Evening
Sun, ” he said, and Suzanne was impressed he was using his own name
and newspaper. “I’m looking into an incident that happened at Sacred Heart
Catholic Church a few years ago. I’m sure you know what I’m referring to.”
    Suzanne covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. What a
bullshitter. She and Patrick knew absolutely nothing about anything that
happened at Sacred Heart in its entire history.
    Patrick had been smiling when he called but the smile faded as
he listened to whatever the voice on the other end was saying.
    “Two years ago,” Patrick repeated and scribbled something down
on the notepad next to his knee. As she read the words, the blood drained from
her face and hands.
    Patrick hung up and looked at Suzanne. Suzanne tore her eyes
from the page and looked back at Patrick.
    “Now you know why I’m going after this,” she said, and Patrick
nodded. “It’s not just about Adam. Not anymore.” She gazed down at the words
again.
    Michael Dimir, age fourteen, attempted suicide in Sacred Heart
sanctuary.
    One witness—Father Marcus Stearns.

3
    Nora waited until after dark and drove to Sacred Heart.
She parked her car in the shade of the densely wooded copse that shielded the
rectory on all sides. As she walked the short path from her car to the back door
of Søren’s home, she smiled up at the trees. She remembered sneaking out to the
rectory one Friday when she was sixteen, when she was still Eleanor Schreiber
and Nora Sutherlin didn’t even exist yet. She’d skipped school that day for no
reason in particular other than the sunshine called to her, and she’d had a
hunch that if she had to sit through chemistry, she’d end up chugging the
acetone in the supply closet. Strolling through the woods behind her church,
she’d come upon Søren in his backyard. Never before had she seen him wearing
anything other than his vestments or clericals. But that day he wore jeans and a
white T-shirt. Even in his clericals she could tell he was well muscled but now
she could see his sinewy arms, taut biceps and strong neck without his Roman
collar for once. His hands were covered in dirt as he dug holes with impressive
strength and efficiency and put three- and four-foot saplings into the ground.
In his secular clothes and sunglasses, the April sunlight reflecting off his
blond hair, her priest appeared a being of ungodly beauty. The deep muscles in
her hips tightened just at the sight of him.
    “Eleanor, you’re supposed to be in school.” He didn’t even look
up at her from his work as he squatted on the ground and covered the roots of
the sapling in black earth.
    “It was a life-or-death situation. If I stayed in school, I
would have killed myself.”
    “As suicide is a mortal sin, I’ll absolve you for cutting
class. But you know you are also not supposed to be at the rectory.” He didn’t
sound at all angry or disappointed, only amused by her as usual.
    “I’m outside the fence. I’m not at the rectory—I’m just near
it. What are you doing anyway?”
    “Planting trees.”
    “Obviously, but why? Are the two million trees around us not
enough for you?”
    “Not quite. You can still see the rectory from the church.”
    “Is that a bad thing?”
    Søren stood up and walked over to the fence. Nora remembered
how her heart had hammered at that moment. She thought for certain he could hear
it beating through her chest.
    Face-to-face with only the fence and a fourteen-year age
difference between them, Søren pulled off his sunglasses and met her eyes.
    “I like my privacy.” He gave her a