Read The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) for Free Online Page B

dropped her friends’ hands. “The band’s started. I’m supposed to be a greeter today, but I don’t think I can do it now.”
    No one moved. They were still paralyzed by Quinton’s news.
    Cooper felt like her own limbs had turned to stone. Brooke Hughes was dead. How could it be possible? She recalled the elation on Brooke’s face a little over a week ago as the married woman envisioned celebrating her anniversary with her beloved husband. Her state of marital bliss was utterly genuine, of that Cooper was certain. And yet, Brooke had been upset too. She had behaved like a person on the verge of a significant and possibly dangerous act. Still, Cooper was certain that Brooke’s agitation was work-related and that her positive remarks about her relationship with her husband were true.
    How could anyone harm such a caring and delightful person? Cooper felt the heaviness of grief spread through her body as she fixed her eyes on the floor and listened as the other members vocalized their feelings.
    “I’ve only met the Hugheses a few times,” Nathan spoke into the silence. “But I got the impression they were both really involved with Hope Street. I know that Brooke organized several mission trips, and isn’t Wesley one of the church’s stewards?”
    Savannah nodded. “Yes. He’s been on our Leadership Team for years.” She offered Nathan a small smile. “Wesley, Brooke and I were in the Newcomers’ Class together many years ago. We’ve shared many experiences since then, and I view their friendship as one of the great gifts of my life.”
    Turning to Cooper, Savannah said, “I’m sorry that your first experience with our church has been . . . marred.”
    “You have nothing to apologize for,” Cooper assured the group leader while thinking that she had never wanted a cigarette so badly in her life. “I just wish there was something I could say or do.”
    “Me too.” Jake twisted his hands together. Cooper noticed that his nails had been chewed right down to the beds. The skin on his hands looked raw and the palms were covered with tough, discolored calluses. He picked at one of these, his eyes flashing with anger. “This is crazy! Wesley was devoted to Brooke.”
    “It’s true.” Bryant sighed. “Unlike me, those two knew how to make a marriage work.”
    Trish shot him a surprised look. Then she smoothed her skirt and tugged on her form-fitting blazer as her face took on a determined expression. “Well, we can’t help unless we’re more informed. Do you know details, Quinton? How was Brooke . . . taken from us?”
    Quinton clutched his thick study Bible as though he could draw strength from its worn and supple cover. “I overheard Jack Burgess—the policeman I mentioned before—telling Pastor Matthews that Brooke was shot. Wesley’s prints were on the gun, though he swears they never owned a firearm. He said he was the only one in the house with her. There were no signs of a struggle, a burglary, or forced entry.”
    “Where was Wesley?” Bryant asked.
    “He was upstairs taking a nap. He slept deeply because he had a cold and had taken a dose of Benadryl. Not only that, but he was wearing earplugs to help him sleep. When he woke, he went downstairs for a cup of coffee and found Brooke.” Quinton swallowed hard. “Wesley saw the blood pooling around her head and the gun near her hand. His instinct told him to push it away—said it was like the feeling you get when you’re near a snake or a rat. You just have to get it away from you. That’s why he touched it.”
    Trish shook her head. “Wesley’s a pacifist.” She turned to Cooper. “He owns a store for wild birds. It offers all kinds of food, baths, houses, and ornamental things for the garden. He’s a total nature lover. A very gentle man.”
    “He reminds me a bit of Francis of Assisi,” Savannah added, her voice laced with sadness. “I remember attending a meeting at their house last summer. We could barely hear one another