““The truth.” The bishop placed an open hand against the door frame and leaned into it, as if he were leaning against the wind. “I meant, to give them peace of mind.” Father John sat back in his chair and studied the cottonwood branches swaying outside the window. They moved silently, and yet he knew the soft, whishing sound they made. The phone had been ringing all morning, and he and the bishop had taken turns fielding the calls. Who could have strangled that poor girl? What did sh...e do to deserve that? Who cares about her? He looked back at the old man in the doorway, the shadows of the corridor falling behind him. “We have to trust that the police will conduct a fair and impartial investigation.” “They’re Arapahos.” “Yes.” Father John took the point. How many times had the police come to Bishop Harry’s mission in Patna looking for those without resources, the most vulnerable?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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