Free Nun the Wiser (A Deadly Habit Cozy Mystery Book 2) by Morgana Best Page A

to 3221. The number was scrawled in white paint on the back of a rusty old metal tin that served as a mail box. I parked with my headlights shining on the entrance. I pushed the car door, pulled my scarf around me more tightly, and headed over toward the old, decrepit gate.
    The snow had turned to sleet. I ducked my head and crossed my arms over my chest for warmth as I made my way to the gate.
    I tried to pull it open, but it was so heavy and that I struggled to drag it across the dirt. I had just about pulled it all the way across when I thought I saw movement behind me.
    I whipped my head around to see the door of my car slam shut. The tires screeched and it reversed at a fast pace. It did a swift U-turn and took off.
    To say I was shocked and upset was an understatement. Who would do such a thing? I tried to process my predicament. I was left alone without a car, and in the snow and sleet, with no shelter. I was miles from home — miles from anywhere, as far as I knew.
    Thankfully, my phone was in my jeans pocket. I whipped it out with relief, and squinted at the light provided by the screen. No service. Okay, now I was really scared. I was trembling violently, whether from the terror I was feeling or from the bitter sleet that stung me and chilled me to the bones, I had no idea.
    “I need some sort of light,” I said to myself, swiping through the phone. I came across the torch app and started it up. A bright light shone from the phone, acting as a flashlight in the blackness of the night.
    I figured I would use the light from the phone to find my way onto the farm. It was obvious that it had all been a ruse just to get me there, but there was still surely a farm beyond that gate, with buildings and warmth. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I pushed through the haunting fields.
    Skeletal trees seemed to bend toward me, their branches laden heavily with snow. At one point, a large pile of snow fell from a branch right in front of me, startling me. I had never been so scared.
    The silence of the eerie night was interrupted only by the sporadic baaing of sheep. The sleet continued to press against my cold flesh, but at least I had a warm coat to cover most of my exposed skin. “How could you have been so stupid as to walk into a trap?” I whispered aloud, shaking my head.
    I had walked for a while and still hadn’t seen any buildings. There were no lights — everything was dark. Still, the gate had to lead to somewhere, and even if the farmhouse was no longer used, it would provide some sort of shelter. Farmhouses in this area were often abandoned and left to fall down while new buildings were built on another location on the farm.
    I debated whether to go back to the road and hope a car would come along, but it was unlikely that anyone would be out in this weather, and I hadn’t passed a single car on the way here. I shivered as my teeth clacked together, making an ominous chattering sound that echoed through my ears. I had to push myself to continue on.
    Finally, my luck changed. I could make out the vague shape of what looked like a small barn off to the left of the dirt track. I climbed carefully through the barbed wire fence, tugging at my coat when it got stuck on one of the barbs. My hands were now so cold that they could barely work.
    I hoped the barn was still in use as that would mean it would provide good shelter. The snow was falling more heavily now, so I walked as fast as I could, shining the torch app ahead of me on the ground. When I reached the barn, I shone the light over it. It looked more or less intact, much to my relief.
    I hurried around the side and pushed the door open. My first thought was that the air in here was warmer, although part of the roof had fallen in some time ago, by the look of it, and sleet was falling in. My second thought was that there was a stack of old hay bales under cover. Even from here, I could smell the mold, but I didn’t care.
    I hurried to the moldy