He waited, praying, attempting to find the correct words to comfort Lydia. Sleep had escaped him last night. Memories of Charlie Westerman’s death haunted the long night. Riley’s early morning phone call commenting that it was truly blood on Lydia’s walls only caused more visions for Matthew of the blood in the Miami alleyway. The deep green grass, along with the neatly trimmed hedges gave him a sense of order. He sauntered up the stone walkway. Four large pillars ran along the front porch, and a beveled glass door, decorated with a lily, greeted him as he approached. He paused for a moment, and prayed silently again for strength before knocking. Sheryl answered and led him to the kitchen. “She’ll be okay, once she’s over the initial shock. She actually slept pretty well.” Sheryl passed him a mug of coffee after he sat at the dining room table. “I stayed with her in case she needed me. I wish Warren hadn’t left yet. He always had a way of making her feel better, no matter the circumstances.”
