Free The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) by Ellery Adams Page A

“This is a real, live murder case that you could help solve. I mean, maybe you were meant to meet Brooke and these Bible study folks.” She sighed. “You’re lucky to have such an important role to play!”
    Cooper watched her sister pout. “Aw, cheer up, Ashley. Maybe someone will meet their Maker by getting wrapped too tight in seaweed during your spa visit.”
    Ashley picked up the shopping bags and fluffed her radiant blonde locks. “That could happen, you know. But for now I’ll just have to settle for exchanging these clothes for some darling summer sandals. Bye now!” She wiggled her fingers in a lazy wave and then marched out the door. Cooper could hear the clomp-clomp of Ashley’s designer heels as her sister made her way downstairs.
    Shaking her head, Cooper got back to work. She was determined not to go to sleep until she had something to show her new friends at Hope Street.

5
     
    The morning of Brooke’s funeral arrived and the weather seemed completely incongruous with such a sorrowful event. A bright sun rose in a cloudless sky and the temperature climbed to a pleasant sixty-five degrees by the time dark-clad mourners had gathered around Brooke’s grave.
    Cooper spotted the members of the Sunrise Bible Study Group clustered behind a tall man in a gray suit flanked by deputies from the sheriff’s department. Instead of joining them, she took a seat on a memorial bench several yards away.
    As the minister spoke, Cooper studied Wesley Hughes. He was thin and balding but still attractive. Tears splotched his distinguished face and he kept his eyes riveted on his wife’s casket. When it was time for him to sprinkle dirt into Brooke’s grave, he fell to his knees, sobbing, and had to be supported by his two guards. A young man in his early twenties with closely cropped hair and broad shoulders embraced Wesley with a desperation that tore at Cooper’s heart. She had to assume that the young man was Wesley’s son, Caleb.
    “Poor boy,” she murmured, because even though Caleb wasn’t a little kid, he was still a child who’d just lost his mother.
    After the final benediction, the deputies led Wesley toward Cooper’s bench and she realized that their brown cruiser was parked directly in front of her truck. A police officer with a grim face joined the threesome but kept a respectful distance behind Wesley. At one point, Wesley stumbled. Instantly, Caleb surged forward and caught hold of his father’s arm, which he held on to with a desperate possessiveness.
    As the group drew closer to the cruiser, one of the deputies reached out for Wesley, but Caleb inserted himself between the guard and his father. His young face was etched with anger and pain, and he balled his hands into fists.
    “Why isn’t my dad out on bail?” he shouted to a man in a dark blue suit who’d also detached himself from the mourners to bid Wesley good-bye. When the man didn’t respond, Caleb’s voice grew shriller. “What kind of lawyer are you?”
    The solitary police officer turned to Caleb. “Son, we’re doing all we can to look out for your father. Don’t make things harder on him than they already are.”
    “He shouldn’t be in jail!” Caleb seethed. “He didn’t do this!”
    “I’m Investigator McNamara.” The burly officer handed Caleb a business card. His voice softened as he studied the grief-stricken young man. “You can call me anytime, son, to check up on your dad.”
    Caleb stared at his father with such anguish that Cooper almost winced, especially when it became apparent that Wesley Hughes had no solace to offer his son. He looked like an empty shell. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were glassy and dull. He squeezed Caleb’s hand and then slid into the backseat of the sheriff’s cruiser, looking as vacant and hopeless as a cow being sent to slaughter.
    Investigator McNamara clapped a strong arm around Caleb’s shoulders and held it there a moment. “You’ll be all right, son. I know