35
I drove my truck down the New England Freeway. I had developed almost an antagonistic feeling for the young woman I now knew by sight as Moleander Courtenay. She had not been forthright, and I would not welcome her visit. The priory was a place of quiet redemption, where the lost could recover themselves, and those who answered the call to serve Almighty God could spend the rest of their days in gainful work while readying themselves for the glory of his heavenly kingdom. There had been no need for subterfuge; the priory was an open book, and would welcome the police and their inquiries.
Why had she not declared her connection at the outset, and what was her role in the investigation? That young lady had a brazen sexuality, which she would no doubt use to gain what she wanted. A simpl
