Free Silent Night by C.J. Kyle Page B

turns out I can’t leave town yet,” she lied. “All the motels are booked and I just needed a place to sleep until a room opens up.”
    Another of the deacons moved to her side. “They are booked, Father. My sister and her brood were forced to stay with me.” A circumstance he obviously disdained, given the look of constipation those words evoked on his face.
    Anatole still didn’t look like he bought her story, but now that the deacon had backed her up, he didn’t seem as eager to call her a liar anymore. She said a silent prayer of thanks for that small blessing. She needed to get the heck out of here and regroup, figure out her next move. It was going to be a lot harder to maneuver around Anatole now that she’d put herself on his radar.
    A car door slammed outside, saving her from another awkward lie, and Anatole rushed back to the window, followed by his deacons. As they watched through the glass, she fumbled in her bag, clutched a camera between her fingers, and quickly cupped it.
    She stood, feigning interest in what was happening outside, and gingerly reached up and pushed the small camera between two books on the top shelf behind her. Her heart pounding, she elbowed her way between the men to shake off any traces of guilt that might be cloaking her.
    A man stepped around the front of a squad car. Her body sent a jolt of awareness long before her eyes could detect who the newcomer was. This was just getting better and better. It was Tucker.
    Of course it was Tucker. Her luck wouldn’t have it any other way.
    Regardless, he was a welcome sight. At this point, jail was a much safer place than here with Father Anatole. She glanced at the camera again. It was noticeable, but small enough that it shouldn’t draw immediate attention. She hoped.
    Tucker disappeared from view, and a few seconds later, she could hear his footsteps coming down the hall. She braced herself, swallowed the bile of indigestion building in her throat, and sat back down in her chair, her gaze nervously dancing around the doorway. He didn’t look at all happy when he appeared.
    He didn’t seem to notice her as he stepped into the room, the deacons partially blocking her from his line of sight. He shook Anatole’s hand. “Father.”
    “Chief.” Father Anatole rubbed the deep lines between his eyebrows.
    The deacons moved aside and Tucker finally noticed her, his head jerking in surprise. “Miranda?”
    She offered a little wave of her fingers. “Hi.”
    He looked back at the priest. “This is who you caught climbing through your window?”
    “Long story,” she muttered, silently pleading with him to get her the hell out of here. She braced herself for more questions, and more lies. She despised liars and hated that she’d become one, but she didn’t know whom she could trust.
    Tucker removed his hat and turned on her. “All right. Start explaining.”
    Mr. Friendly Deacon repeated the story she’d told them. “She didn’t know we kept the chapel doors unlocked.”
    “She was breaking into my office, which I do keep locked, however,” Anatole added.
    “So she broke in through your window?”
    Anatole’s gaze narrowed. “I sometimes crack it open for fresh air. I must not have locked it back.”
    Tucker’s glare sent a heat wave over her. She was about to find out if melting through the cracks in the church floor would get her out of this mess. “Looking for a bed, huh?”
    “I—um—”
    He opened his mouth, closed it again, and faced the priest. “Do you want to press charges?” he asked, saving her from an explanation she couldn’t possibly give in front of the people she’d lied to.
    “I don’t see why that would be necessary. If she was looking for a place to sleep, then there really was no harm done,” Friendly Deacon said.
    Father Anatole narrowed his gaze. “No need to penalize anyone for looking for a place to stay. Nothing was taken, and she didn’t break the window she was crawling into. If all she