The Chaperone by M Hendrix

Author:M Hendrix
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

CHAPTER 55

Eight people.

Less than a dozen. Fewer than I can count on two hands. Is that enough to stay in a place where I’m not free?

Those eight people remain in my head for three days. But now it’s Sunday, and I have to think about someone else. Joseph Clarke.

Mom chooses my outfit. What Tiffany calls my goody-two-shoes-gone-bad dress. Long-sleeved blue lace with a V that’s not deep enough to be scandalous but deep enough to attract attention. The only problem is I don’t want this person’s attention.

The doorbell rings.

I don’t move from my spot on the sofa. Answering the door is not my job. I pray Dad doesn’t hear it.

But a second later he comes rushing down the front stairs, securing his onyx cufflinks at the same time. His hand is on the door a moment later. He turns to me before opening it.

“You ready, Stella?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead he turns the knob and smiles at the person I presume is Joseph Clarke, offering his hand to shake. Even from the other room, I can see their knuckles clench in a manly ritual that goes on so long it seems absurd.

Dad beckons him inside with an outstretched arm. Has Dad ever been so welcoming to a boy at Visitation? But Joseph Clarke is not a boy. He’s a man. A constable. Dad backs up, and the constable steps inside.

First I see a black shoe and gray leg. Then the rest of him comes into view. Gray pants, gray shirt, red armband, giant gun slung across his back. He’s turned away, so I can’t see his face. He lifts the gun over his head and holds it out to Dad like a gift. I’ve never seen a constable remove his gun before he sits. It strikes me as odd that he offers it to Dad, who gestures to the corner. The constable stands his gun there like a wet umbrella. After it’s secure, he turns in my direction.

Pale splotchy skin. Hair so blond it’s almost white.

The shock rolls through me like thunder. I put my hand on the sofa to steady myself.

It’s him.

The constable who saw me the night Sister Helen died.

And he’s here to call on me.

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