Eight
I STAND FROZEN IN PLACE, transfixed by the sight. The only sounds in the room are Father Leonard’s sobs. Outside I can hear the cacophony of a summer night, crickets chirping along with the other nocturnal creatures.
I move slowly towards Rachel. She’s lying on her back, arms down by her side, her lifeless eyes staring into space. Blood has soaked the carpet. Tentatively, I touch the red blot. It’s already dried. She’s been dead for some time.
I pull out my prayer book and begin to say the necessary prayers over her. After a few minutes, I make the sign of the cross. Then, I go to check on Father Leonard. He’s stopped crying, but now he’s staring into the distance.
I kneel beside him. “Leonard,” I touch his shoulder and whisper his name. He does not respond, doesn’t blink. “Leona
