Read Alien Rites for Free Online Page B

Curtains billowed, framing a view of a river, tug boat moving in the ripples. David walked across the room, drawn by the glint of sunlight on water. It was good. Very good. Almost, he had been fooled.
    A hole had been punched through the yellow plasticine beneath the window—all the way through the mortar to the outside. It was a small opening, no more than three inches across and two inches high. A small piece of white lace was tacked across the top—the closest Annie Trey came to a real window.
    David felt tired. It was the little things people did that sometimes broke his heart.
    â€œMaybe we should come back at a better time,” Mel said.
    String slid sideways toward the baby. “But what of the pouchling? We cannot just leave to the tears.” He moved back and forth on his bottom fringe. “Is this pouchling in need of nourishment?”
    Annie patted the baby’s back. “I tried to give her a bottle just a minute ago, and she throw’d it acrost the room. Come on, sweetie, come on, baby. Hush now. Got Fuzzy Bear, see?”
    Jenny closed her eyes and the sobs stopped. She hiccupped, then made a little snore. David and Mel took a deep breath.
    Annie held a finger to her lips and headed for the bedroom. The baby woke up coughing before she made it across the room.
    Mel looked at David. “Let’s go and leave this woman in peace.”
    String waved a fin. “There is not the peace here, Detective Mel.”
    â€œYeah, but—”
    Annie Trey had tears in her eyes. “Please, Jenny. Hush, baby.”
    David wondered how she’d made it with two. One of them died, he reminded himself.
    He held out his arms. “You mind?”
    She handed him the baby but hovered close, waiting to snatch her back. “She’s a good baby, she’s just feeling real bad.”
    â€œShe had cough medicine in a while?” David asked.
    Annie nodded. “Don’t get another dose for at least two hours.”
    David settled into the rocking chair. Jenny twisted sideways, whimpered. He tucked Fuzzy Bear into the crook of his arm and the little girl laid her head wearily on the bear’s tummy. David took the thin cotton blanket tangled in the chubby little legs and put it on top of the child’s head, covering both temples.
    â€œYou forget which end is up?” Mel said.
    David began to rock gently. Jenny watched him, heavy-eyed and cautious. He smiled at her, rocking. The child snuggled deeper into his arms. The coughing stopped. The baby’s eyes closed. She hiccupped twice, and was asleep.
    â€œExperienced father,” Mel said.
    Annie gave David a wary half smile.
    â€œIsss the magic touch,” from String.
    David shrugged. It was a trick he had learned from his father, a trick that always worked with his girls when they were coughing and could not sleep. He stood up and headed for the bedroom. The room was tiny and held a white crib, a wicker changing table, and an empty bassinet.
    A mobile had been painted on the wall over the crib. One had been started by the bassinet, then left unfinished. A new picture had been painted where the mobile left off. Smaller, darker, fresh paint.
    David settled the child into the crib, keeping the blanket over her head and off her face. He tucked the bear in next to her. The picture caught his attention again, held him.
    It showed a huge tree, old, decaying, flanked by smaller, younger trees, leaves turquoise under white light. An orange, red-tinged flame leapt up the center of the tree, crisping the edges of the bark, shattering the serenity of the forest.
    David heard a noise, saw Annie Trey standing in the doorway, watching him. She went behind him to the crib, shifting the blanket to her own specifications—typical mother, that. She herded him out, motioning for him to reclaim the rocking chair, while she sat cross-legged on the floor.
    She settled heavily, shoulders drooping. “What was it y’all wanted