The Way of the Guilty: A Hope Street Church Mystery - By Jennifer Stanley Page 0,31

eyes animated. “I can get you into his house, no matter where it is. I think that’s where we should start. You can tell a lot about a person by going through their drawers.” She flushed. “Not that I’d ever do that! I’m a professional realtor.”

Bryant shot her a worried look. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I read the newspaper,” she answered quickly. “And I listened to Pastor Matthew’s sermons via podcast on saving our city. I think we’re being called to act. This group. Right here. Right now.” She jabbed a throw pillow for emphasis.

Cooper nodded. “That’s exactly how I feel. Something outside of myself is telling me not to let this go. That this stranger, this man, was my brother and he was murdered. I just can’t turn away.”

Quinton turned the gold ring on his right ring finger around and around. “All right. I’m in. Just let me get some dessert before we start the planning and scheming part of the afternoon.”

The others echoed his sentiments and joined Quinton in the kitchen in order to receive one of his succulent peanut butter cup brownies. Cooper was too full from the half bag of Fritos she’d consumed to make room for dessert, so she was the only person in the room when Savannah spoke.

“Cooper.” Savannah stroked the worn, supple cover of her Bible. “I find it very interesting that Edward Crosby is part of this story. I believe you may have more than one calling when it comes to this case. His being there that night was no coincidence.”

Reddening, Cooper gazed out the window into Trish’s enclosed backyard where bowed forsythia branches leaned over the brown-speckled grass. Cooper could easily imagine how well the yellow flowers would show against the backdrop of red brick come springtime. She wondered if Trish had planted any bulbs, whether the eager faces of crocuses or the blushing pink of silky tulip petals would open beneath the shelter of the forsythia two months from now.

What will Edward Crosby bloom into? she wondered and then turned back to Savannah.

“I don’t know why, but I have a feeling I’ll be seeing him again, though how Edward can help us is a mystery to me.”

Savannah smiled. “Have you ever considered that you might be the one helping him? Now go fetch yourself a brownie. We’ve got work to do!”

6

“In the dark, men break into houses,

but by day they shut themselves in;

they want nothing to do with the light.”

Job 24:16 (NIV)

Trish was true to her word, and within two days had an appointment to view the empty apartment directly above Miguel’s. Since they couldn’t directly ask to see Miguel’s place, Cooper had had to concoct an elaborate plan to at least get close to his unit. Ashley had made this much easier by providing her with Miguel’s apartment number as it was written in his Love Motors personnel file. Ashley also agreed to hand over a copy of the young man’s file, but with a reluctance that Cooper didn’t understand. The two sisters met for lunch at their favorite Japanese restaurant in order to conduct the exchange.

After ordering the businessman’s box lunch, a hearty sampling of sesame chicken, fried rice, vegetable tempura, six California rolls, and a halved orange, Ashley slid the file across the table, careful to avoid spilling the pottery tumblers of hot green tea. Cooper noted that her sister had elected to wear a lined trench coat instead of one of her warmer jackets. She wondered if the choice was deliberate or if Ashley was feeling subconsciously furtive.

“What? No sunglasses? No pen that shoots laser beams?” Cooper teased, but Ashley was not amused.

“Lincoln specifically asked me to butt out of this mess, and even though I can’t forget about Miguel Ramos, I can at least feel rotten about deceiving my husband.”

Cooper waited until their waitress had delivered bowls of salad in sweet ginger dressing before speaking. Breaking her chopsticks neatly apart, she rubbed the slim pieces of wood against one another to smooth away any splinters. “You need to tell Lincoln how you feel, Ashley. You two have been brought together by Miguel’s death—don’t let that fade away. Be honest with him.”

Ashley shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Lincoln’s very stressed at work right now. Rumors are flying, sales are down, and his daddy’s breathing down his neck over the salary he’s paying the finance manager he hired back in October. What Lincoln needs is a quiet and secure home environment, and it’s