Jennifer Stanley - The Way of the Guilty: A Hope Street Church Mystery (Hope Street Church Mysteries)

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Whoa! Cooper looked in her rearview mirror. What the heck did I hit back there?

Slowing down, she eased the truck onto the farthest side of the shoulder. Though reluctant to leave the warmth of her cab, Cooper knew she had no choice. Grabbing a flashlight from her toolbox, she jumped out of the truck, and immediately saw that one of her rear tires had deflated like a spent birthday balloon.

Great. Coopers buoyant mood dissipated in the frigid air. Pulling her wool hat down over her ears, she retrieved her emergency road kit from the rear of the cab and unzipped it. After igniting two flares she unfastened the jack and spare tire from the inside of the truck bed.

As she watched, a motorcycle edged onto the highway shoulder. Its rider was a man, dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, whose features were completely obscured by his black helmet. Even when he tipped back the tinted visor covering his face and asked if she needed a hand, the moonless night cloaked him in shadow.

As he dismounted and began to walk toward her, Coopers cell phone rang to the tune of the Beatles A Hard Days Night. The man in black chuckled. I recollect you mentioning the Fab Four, but I didnt know you liked them that much.

He stepped forward into the red glow of the flare and Coopers jaw dropped as she recognized his face. Get the phone, girl. He pointed at the device. Ill jack the truck.

Answering the call, Cooper was at first too stunned to make sense of Ashleys frantic and garbled words. There was nothing coherent about the hysterical cries and pleas of Please! Theres a man! Hes... hes dead! DEAD IN MY HOUSE! COME GET ME! echoing down the line...

Hope Street Church Mysteries by

JENNIFER STANLEY

Stirring Up Strife

Path of the Wicked

The Way of the Guilty

Available from St. Martins / Minotaur Paperbacks

Jennifer Stanley

St. Martins Paperbacks

NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE WAY OF THE GUILTY

Copyright 2010 by Jennifer Stanley.

All rights reserved.

For information address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

ISBN: 978-0-312-37684-0

Printed in the United States of America

St. Martins Paperbacks edition / September 2010

St. Martins Paperbacks are published by St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For the amazing women of Circle #2,
Third Presbyterian Church, Richmond

And for Carol Booth,
who has taught me much about grace

The author is grateful to Jessica Faust of Book Ends for being a faithful cheerleader, Laura Bourgeois and Hope Dellon of St. Martins / Minotaur Paperbacks for championing Cooper and friends, Frank Howarth for answering questions about car sales and documentation, Kim Faulker for providing the comfort cookie recipe, Mary Harrison for reading an early draft, and my family for reminding me that sometimes I just need to step away from the computer and play a little.

The way of the guilty is devious,
but the conduct of the innocent is upright.

Proverbs 21:8

The garden had hangings of white and blue linen, fastened with cords of white linen and purple material to silver rings on marble pillars. There were couches of gold and silver on a mosaic pavement of porphyry, marble, mother-of-pearl and other costly stones.

Esther 1:6 (NIV)

If Cooper Lee had known she would spend Friday night chugging champagne at an unfamiliar womans mansion while a trio of busty coeds modeled lingerie, she would have come up with any number of creative excuses in order to avoid the whole thing. Unfortunately, Cooper had completely misunderstood her sisters invitation to accompany her to a pajama party being hosted by one of her church friends.

Georgia Ferguson has such a gorgeous house! Wait til you see it! Coopers sister Ashley had shouted over the roar of Coopers power sander the weekend before the infamous fete. Can you turn that damned thing off for a second?

After gently putting down the tool, Cooper slid her safety goggles onto the crown of her head, picked up a piece of sandpaper, and began working on the rough areas on a chapel-shaped birdhouse. And why exactly should I be interested in Georgia Fergusons house? she asked her sister while gently stroking the wood smooth. I dont even know this woman.

Stopping Coopers hand with her own, Ashley announced, Because Im going to a party there next weekend and youre coming with me.

Imagining a room populated by Ashleys worldly acquaintances, Cooper grimaced. In case youve forgotten, I repair office equipment for a living. She rubbed the tip of the steeple gently with a folded scrap of sandpaper. Why would I want to go to Georgias party? These are your church friends. Ive got my own, she added happily.

Ashley drummed her fingers against the workbench and Cooper couldnt help but admire her sisters pristine French manicure. Youre going to this party because youre a mature, confident woman. Thats just the kind of woman I need by my side to help me select an array of fabulous new night things with which I can seduce my husband.

Coopers neck flushed as it always did when she was embarrassed. I am well aware that youre trying to get pregnant, but Id rather not have to hear too many details, okay? Some things are meant to be kept private.

Some things? You cant even say the word! Ashley giggled. Go on, I dare you. Say sex. Say it! Sex, sex, sex!

You talk about it enough for both of us, thanks very much, Cooper retorted. Im going to start calling you Dr. Ruth. She playfully elbowed her sister out of the way and reached for the power sander. Removing her safety glasses from the top of her wheat-blonde hair, she stared at Ashley with her intriguing, mismatched eyes. Is that all? Id like to get back to this.

Dont you give me that blue-eyed, green-eyed glower, Ashley commanded and then began to push sawdust scraps around with her finger, forming the outline of a wobbly heart on the surface of the table. The truth is that I could use Dr. Ruths advice these days. Listen to me, Coop. I