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By P. L. Gaus
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Extra info for A Prayer for the Night
That, too,” Wilsher said. “OK, Dan. You run with the phone. Get phone company records, everything. I want to know who’s been calling whom, and when. I want to know where they were standing when they made those calls. ” Robertson called Niell over and said, “We still have the Spits Wallace thing. ” “Nobody’s been in that kitchen for a while,” Ricky said. “The food in the sink is all shriveled up, and the blood is dried. ” Robertson said, “Dan, I’ll meet you back at the jail in an hour. ” Robertson countered, “Negative, Ricky.
Cal said, “Sara, there’s more in the hole than that little plastic bag. ” Sara pushed past Cal and went over to the corner, where the pastor had deepened the hole with the shovel. As Cal and the professor came up beside her, tears began to line her cheeks. She had the fingers of both hands wrapped around her throat as if to throttle a scream. A strangled sound droned from inside her, like the low note of a bagpipe. She was backing up from the loosened dirt as if the shallow trench were full of writhing copperheads.
Sorry. ” Branden asked. “Parents these days don’t understand anything. ” Branden smiled and waited for Sara to look at him. When she did, he said, “We’ll do what we can, Sara. ” She nodded, dropped her gaze to her hands, and let her shoulders slump with the weight of her burdens. After a spell, she began talking quietly. “There sits John Schlabaugh’s car, and nobody has heard from him in over a week. Abe Yoder, too. Everybody thought John Schlabaugh was such a great leader. So charismatic. He was going to show us all the world.
A Prayer for the Night by P. L. Gaus