Atonement Read Free Page A

cameraman had zoomed in on a female figure darting into the back of the building, with the sheriff close on her heels.
    The Priest sat forward, his rosary slipping until the cross brushed the floor. A blue caption box stating that the McIntire Sheriff’s Department had used a female deputy to stop the killings scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
    A woman sniper?
    Grasping the remote, he increased the volume.
    “ … the sheriff reported they did what was best for the children. But residents are questioning the force used to end the standoff as nothing more than abuse of police resources.”
    The report switched to a scene outside the sheriff’s department as a truck crept past a bevy of reporters. The top of someone’s head peeked over the edge of the passenger-side window.
    “The deputy who pulled the trigger isn’t talking, and the sheriff’s department hasn’t released any more statements. We were informed the Eider Police Department is investigating the shooting. People here in Eider and Cornel are still demanding answers as to why a family man like Dusty Walker would be killed in such a manner.”
    The Priest turned off the TV and stood; the rosary banged against his leg as he walked into the kitchen. Halting in the center of the laminated floor, he stared at the cabinets.
    There was still the matter of the missing body the police hadn’t found. Dusty accomplished half the job, but the woman deputy didn’t allow him to end his own life. The Priest scowled, clenching the beads. These were variables he hadn’t considered before, and it meant a greater chance of failure the next time. Police interference was not a welcome sign. Had things not gone as they had, Dusty Walker might have slipped up and reported the wrong thing. The Priest couldn’t allow it to happen again.
    If the sinners did not atone on their own, how would they reach salvation? To ensure success with the next one, he had to outthink the sinners. He’d learn from this mistake and apply changes.
    With a nod, he moved to the dry goods cabinet and retrieved a box of crackers. Hunger consumed him most of the day, but his obligations overrode the need for food. With his obligations completed, he could feed his body.
    Later he would feed his soul.
    • • •
    The nightmare always came after a particularly bad day. The dream hadn’t come to her in a while, but this time around it seemed worse than before.
    It started the same, the figures of men moving farther away from Nic, through a curtain of sand. The more she yelled, the more grit filled her mouth, choking her words. Suddenly the rattle of gunfire exploded. Nic screamed, begging them to listen to her. They finally turned, but their bodies became wisps of smoke. Dazed and unable to move, she watched as the men drifted away.
    But this time, the dream took a bloodier turn. This time, the men reappeared in a tunnel burrowed in rock. They stood before her, eyes glazed and faces bloodied. One by one they grabbed their hair with one hand, then a sword appeared in the other and each one whacked his head off. Their lifeless faces gaped at her.
    Nic bolted upright, screaming and kicking at the sheets tangled around her ankles. Breathing like an untrained marathon runner, her eyes jerked from one darkened corner of the room to the other. Home. Her home. Not the dank, far away hellhole in some godforsaken, Middle East country.
    Her stomach lurched. Scrambling from the bed, she stumbled into the bathroom and barely reached the toilet before her gut made its final heave. She vomited repeatedly until all that remained were the dry heaves.
    Flushing the toilet, Nic leaned against the cool porcelain bowl and sobbed.

Chapter Three
    Con jarred awake at the shrill song coming from his cell. Cursing the holy saints, he flung the blankets aside, which caused a low growl from his bed companion. “I’m not the one calling me at ... ” Con snatched the phone from his bedside table and squinted at the time on