Doubting Thomas (Tarnished Saints Series) by Elizabeth Rose Page B

Gabby’s hair, listening to the little girl’s dream, but all the while thinking of a dream of her own. Thomas Taylor had her down on the bed and was kissing her with the passion of a man in love. In the dream, she had willingly let him touch her in the most intimate places, and button by button undo her blouse til she sat there in nothing but her bra.
    “Mommy, did you hear what I said?” Gabby turned around and looked up to her with big blue eyes.
    “Hmmm?” she asked, knowing she hadn’t been fair to her daughter. She’d promised to spend the entire day with her, and she would, but all she could think about was those six Taylor boys and the way a mere cookie meant the world to them.
    Her heart went out to them and she knew what she had to do. She had to file a case on Thomas Taylor, but a part of her kept saying to wait. She’d seen something in his eyes she couldn’t explain, and they didn’t seem to be the eyes of a child abuser. She had to go back there and gather more information before she came to any conclusions.
    “Come on,” said Gabby, pulling her off the bed and down the stairs. “Agnes has packed a picnic lunch for us. We can go on our hike and stop and have a picnic somewhere in the woods. Won’t that be fun?”
    “Yes. That sounds great, Gabby.”
    Angel followed her down the stairs, the phone splitting the air as it rang. Clarence and Agnes had a loud speaker attached to a pole just outside the house so they could hear the phone ring while out on the lake or working in the yard.
    “Oh, hello Tillie, how are you?” she heard Agnes say. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be looking forward to it. You want to talk to Angel? Yes, she’s right here.”
    Angel looked up at the mention of her name. Agnes held out the phone to her, but it wasn’t a cordless. She wanted to tell Tillie what she’d found out about Thomas Taylor, but she couldn’t do it with so many people listening.
    “Do you have another phone where I can talk where it’s . . . quieter?” Angel asked.
    “Why yes,” said Agnes. “We have one in the living room, one in our bedroom, one -”
    “Agnes,” said Clarence. “Just let her use the one in the bedroom where it’s more private.”
    “Yes, that’ll be fine,” Angel said and headed to the room by the front door. She picked up the receiver and greeted her friend. “Hi Tillie.”
    “Angel, how are you enjoying your stay at Aunt Agnes’s Bed and Breakfast?” she asked.
    Angel waited until she heard the click of the extension before she continued.
    “Your aunt and uncle are very hospitable,” she said, trying to sound polite by not saying they were driving her crazy.
    “Has Aunt Agnes showed you how to play Canasta yet?”
    “Oh yes, that’s a favorite past time around here. Although, I can’t say I’ve been spending much time at the house, as I’ve been over at Thomas Taylor’s.”
    “And?” Tillie said anxiously, waiting for more info. “Are you going to call in to Child Services to report him, or not?”
    “I’m not sure,” she said, hearing some static on the phone. “Everything I’ve seen over at Thomas Taylor’s leads me to believe that he is an unfit father. The fridge is nearly void of food, they don’t even have an oven, and the kids sleep on the floor. He works them so hard that they are as thin as rails, and he even admitted that he never lets them play.”
    “That’s terrible,” said Tillie. “You should report him right now and have those kids taken away from him. Especially, if he murdered his wife. It’s not safe for them to stay there.”
    She heard a slight click over the phone. A click that sounded a lot like someone on the extension.
    “I’ve got to go, Tillie. We’ll talk more later.”
    “We sure will,” she said. “I’m coming up tomorrow with Stacy to spend some time with my aunt and uncle. Brian’s away on business and it’s just the two of us until the end of the month.”
    “Great!” said Angel. “Then Gabby