The Priest's Graveyard by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online Page A

you any longer.”
    “He’s going to come after me.”
    “No. I can assure you that Cyrus Kauffman will never be coming after you.”
    “How do you know?”
    He frowned but his eyes twinkled. “I have my means. There isn’t much money can’t buy. But enough about me. You should rest,
     and if you’re feeling up to it, you might try some soup. I had the doctor remove a temporary feeding tube this morning after
     he expressed concerns about infection. He’ll be back later.”
    “What happened?”
    “You don’t remember?”
    “I was…” The whole ordeal was still foggy. Emotion choked me.
    “It’s okay, honey.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You’re going to be okay now. I promise.”
    I nodded and held on to his fingers. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered.
    “I won’t.” He paused, then spoke my name as if tasting it for the first time. “Renee Gilmore.” His eyes searched mine. “You
     have no living relative that I could find.”
    “No?”
    “No, dear. Your mother passed away in a car accident three years ago.”
    Yes, I remembered that now.
    “Your father is presumed dead.”
    “Dead?” Was that a shock? I forgot whether he was alive.
    “Unfortunately, yes. No aunts or uncles who know you. No living relative who has any connection to you legally. I’m so sorry.”
    He said it as if my solitude in this life were a death sentence. All I’d had was Cyrus, and in that moment I wanted to go
     back to Cyrus. He wasn’t so bad, right? I’d managed with him.
    But the moment I thought it, I felt my bones begin to tremble. It was as if my body knew more than my mind and was rebelling
     at the idea of rushing back to the man who would as soon break all my bones as give me a fix.
    Lamont put his hand on my shaking body. “Your body’s craving heroin. But I don’t think it’s a good idea. Do you?”
    At the mention of the drug, I wanted it. My need was so powerful that tears came to my eyes.
    “No,” I said.
    “Good.”
    I was suddenly very tired, and I couldn’t get my body to stop shaking. He got a wool blanket from the armoire and put it over
     me. Then, although I didn’t want to, I fell asleep.
    I must have slept a long time. When I woke, a man in a white pin-striped shirt was leaning over me, peeling my eyelids open.
     I blinked, and he lifted his hand.
    “There we go. She’s awake.”
    The man who’d saved me… Lamont . Lamont Myers. Lamont hurried to the bedside. My pulse quickened when our eyes met.
    He took my hand. “You’re awake! Thank God. How are you feeling?”
    How long had I been sleeping?
    “Sorry, this is Dr. Barry Horst, the physician I mentioned.”
    The doctor smiled. “You’re a lucky one.” He was taking my pulse. “I’m not sure you were comatose after all. Your vitals are
     still strong as a horse. How’s your throat?”
    I cleared it. “Hurts.”
    “It’ll be sore for a couple days, normal. Let’s take a look, shall we?”
    He stood, peeled down my sheet, and I saw then for the first time that I was naked.
    Lamont turned away and walked toward the door. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
    The doctor asked me a dozen questions about how I felt, everything from my arm, which ached, to my bladder, which felt fine.
     It wasn’t until he carefully helped me into a sitting position that I became aware of the catheter.
    “Oh, yes, I’ll remove that if you think you can urinate. Do you want to try?”
    “Yes.”
    It took us a few minutes, but I finally found my legs. He helped me to the bathroom, then back to the bed, by which time I
     was exhausted but robed and feeling a little less helpless.
    “I’ve given Mr. Myers my recommended diet. Liquids only for a day, I’m afraid. If you keep it all down, we’ll get some solids
     in you. Fair enough?”
    “Where am I?” I asked.
    He looked caught off guard by the question. “You’re in Lamont Myers’s house. In Malibu. And I think that makes you a very
     fortunate person. He seems