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Back The Silence of the Library Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. COVER
  2. PRAISE FOR TITLES BY MIRANDA JAMES
  3. ALSO BY MIRANDA JAMES
  4. TITLE PAGE
  5. COPYRIGHT
  6. DEDICATION
  7. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. AFTERWORD
  49. LETTER TO THE READER
  50. SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART

I stood there while Diesel ambled back toward the kitchen. I hadn’t even thought about church this morning. Nor had I thought much about the fact that it was Sunday. Usually I attended services at the college chapel, and I didn’t often miss. Today the fever of the hunt was upon me, and I trusted I might be forgiven nonattendance this once. After all, I told myself semipiously, I was trying to serve the cause of justice.

I wasn’t sure Kanesha would see it that way, but she had allowed me to help.

“Come on, Diesel, I’m going up to the third floor.” I waited a moment at the foot of the stairs, and he came trotting out of the kitchen toward me. On occasion he ignored such calls and went on with whatever he was doing, but generally he liked to be near me.

On the third floor I opened the door of the room I always thought of as Aunt Dottie’s special library. In the dim light through the gauzy curtains, I would have sworn I saw a shape on the bed. When I blinked and looked again, though, the bed was bare. I smiled. If Aunt Dottie lingered anywhere in the house, it would be either in this room or in the kitchen, her two favorite places.

I flipped the light switch and advanced toward the smallish closet. Diesel jumped on the bed, rolled onto his back, and contorted himself into a stretch that made my back hurt just to witness. Chuckling, I opened the door and pulled the string for the closet light. The faint odor of mothballs tickled my nose.

Clothes still hung on the rail, and I recognized a few dresses for Sunday wear that belonged to my aunt. I ran the back of a finger down the sleeve of one for a moment, and the sensation of my skin against the wool triggered memories of Aunt Dottie dressed for church. I could see the enormous handbag she always carried with her. For a long time I suspected her of carrying a book—besides the Bible—with her, but I never caught her reading one in church if she did.

I took a deep breath to bring myself back to the present. Time to focus on the search. I scanned the shelf over the clothes rail. About two feet deep and five feet across, it was jammed with boxes of assorted sizes. I counted seven shoe boxes. I didn’t think they were likely repositories for the newsletters. None of the other containers bore a label to give me any hints. I would have to pull out each one and check it.