False Witness (17 page)

With Sister Bernarda’s words still ringing in her ears, Sister Agatha stepped out the parlor door and onto the small porch. Hearing a songbird up in one of the cottonwood trees, she smiled and glanced up. The enjoyment that respite gave her served as a reminder that the quiet and seclusion they now enjoyed could come to an abrupt end if the land adjacent to theirs was developed.

Sister Agatha walked toward the motorcycle, whistling for Pax, but then noticed he was already in the sidecar. He leaned across the side of the cockpit, and, resting one huge paw on the motorcycle seat, stared at her impatiently.

“I’m coming,” Sister Agatha said. She had no idea where to start her search—a motel? They were as common as silver sedans, even Toyotas. She said a prayer as she started the bike, and by the time she passed through the entrance where the gates had been, an idea came to her.

She’d go see Cindy, Terri’s neighbor. She had a strong feeling that she’d find answers there—providing she asked the right questions. Knowing that it was willingness to listen with the heart that often allowed God’s unerring guidance to come through clearly, she headed south toward Bernalillo.

Less than twenty minutes later, she parked in front of Cindy’s home and found her working in the garden.

Having heard the distinctive sound of the motorcycle, Cindy waved and motioned for Sister Agatha and Pax to join her. “I’m glad you came by again, Sister Agatha,” she said brightly, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “I was going to call you about Terri. I’ve remembered something that may be important.”

Thanking God for his help, Sister Agatha waited.

“When Terri first moved in, she asked me to keep an eye on her place. She told me that if I ever saw anyone just hanging around, I should call her at work. From what she said … or maybe the way she said it … I got the impression that she wanted to avoid an ex-husband or ex-boyfriend, not just bill collectors. And, yesterday, not long before she left, I saw a guy wearing a blue baseball cap and olive-green windbreaker hanging around behind her house. I just caught a glimpse of him, but he was wearing sunglasses.”

“Did you tell Terri?” Sister Agatha asked.

“No, she left shortly after that so I never had a chance to mention it to her.”

“Show me where the guy was,” Sister Agatha said.

Cindy led her to the back of the property. “He was standing here, looking at her house.”

Sister Agatha studied the gravel-lined road. The man she’d seen in the pharmacy’s parking lot, the one who’d tried to warn her off the case, had been wearing the same thing,
down to the sunglasses. It was the same person, she was sure of it. And, by now, Tom might have his fingerprints.

“Were the sunglasses the man was wearing black-framed?” Sister Agatha asked.

Cindy thought about it. “I think so. Yes, come to think of it, I’m sure they were. How did you know?”

“I’ve seen him around. One more thing. Are you sure it was Terri who drove away in her car?”

“It looked like her, but all I saw was the back of her head. “What’s going on, Sister?”

“She may have been followed—or worse. I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I find out more.”

Sister Agatha hurried to Tom’s office. Traffic was light this morning, and she made good time. With a quick wave to those busy behind the front desk, she and Pax walked down the hall.

Tom was standing outside his office talking to someone in a suit when he saw her coming. With a casual wave, he motioned for her to go into his office.

Sister Agatha and Pax made themselves comfortable, and Tom came in a few moments later. “Before I get sidetracked,” he said, easing down into his chair. “I wanted to tell you that we weren’t able to lift any prints from that note you dropped off yesterday.”

Disappointed, she told him about her visit to Cindy and what she’d learned about the man who’d probably been watching Terri as well as her. “If he’s been tailing me all along, he’s skilled at it, Tom. I’m worried that he may have followed Terri when she left—maybe even caught up to her.”

“We’ve got an APB out on Terri. Keep a sharp eye out, and call me immediately if you spot that guy or his car again. I’ll give the description to our patrol officers, but without a plate number or vehicle model, I doubt we’ll get far.”

“I’ll try her cell phone again,” she offered. Once again, she got a message that the call couldn’t be completed. “No luck, Tom. How about I give you the number?”

“Good idea. I can get a location if she makes a call.”

Before she could write it down, her cell phone rang. Sister Bernarda sounded tense. “Sister Agatha, we’ve received a call from NexCen. Their local warehouse was vandalized last night. It’s mostly spray paint, but the warehouse supervisor, a Mr. Orem, would like you to meet him there as soon as possible.”

“He needs to talk to the sheriff, not me.”

“A deputy is already there.”

“Did the supervisor say why he needs
me
, then?”

“Merilee suggested it. That’s all I know.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sister Agatha hung up quickly, then filled Tom in.

“If someone is messing with your Internet mail orders, there are federal agencies that can become involved, but, as far as the vandalism goes, that’s generally a misdemeanor. I can also tell you right off the bat that it’s unlikely we’ll be able to do anything more than file a report unless we get a name. We don’t have the manpower to follow that up unless there were major damages.”

“I guess I better go talk to Mr. Orem.”

Sister Agatha gave him Terri’s cell phone number, then left the station. She drove southwest until she almost reached the city of Rio Rancho, then turned onto the side street that led to the warehouse. She’d been here once before, right after they’d taken on the NexCen account.

She pulled up to the gunmetal gray building with a large wooden sign that read
NEXCEN
. A wide, concrete loading dock about four feet off the ground extended the width of all three doors, each the size of a garage bay. The center door was raised,
and she could see Merilee Brown speaking to a man she didn’t recognize.

Sister Agatha parked in a visitor space, removed her helmet, then walked up the steps at the end of the dock with Pax at her side.

Merilee, having watched her arrival, gave her an uncertain smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Sister Agatha. This is Dean Orem.”

Sister Agatha shook his hand. His eyes were a soft blue and his face was gently weathered and lined. Orem was in his midsixties and in good physical shape.

“Pleased to meet you, Sister,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

“The second I read the report Dean faxed us, I thought I’d come take a look for myself,” Merilee said. “Now I need your corroboration, Sister Agatha. Remember the e-mails the monastery received from that Wilder crank and the funny little graphics attached to them?”

“Of course,” Sister Agatha said.

“I want you to look at the spray-painted drawings inside. See if you agree with me that we’re dealing with the same artist.”

“Has the sheriff’s deputy already finished?” she asked. “I didn’t see a vehicle in the lot.”

Merilee nodded. “He took photos, our statement, then left.”

Sister Agatha followed her into the warehouse. On the inside of the closed doors someone had spray painted a figure that resembled a kid peering over a wall.

“It’s the same drawing,” Sister Agatha said with a nod. “Just on a bigger scale.”

Taunts like
FRY YOUR MOTHERBOARDS
had also been spray
painted everywhere—on packing crates, the walls, and even the concrete floor.

“It looks like the person responsible has a grudge against NexCen, not the monastery,” Sister Agatha added.

“Maybe so,” Merilee agreed. “The e-mails you get pass through our Web page, and this warehouse has the same zip code as the post office box NexCen uses for its orders.”

The news and the possibilities it opened changed everything. She’d have to reevaluate her theories now. If the network problems had been caused by someone with a grudge against NexCen, then they were dealing with two separate sets of people. One person was clearly out to harass the monastery, and had been watching them with binoculars. The other was focusing its hatred on the company, and their scriptorium was just caught in the middle.

Sister Agatha left the warehouse with more questions than when she’d arrived. She thought of going back home, but everyone at the monastery was depending on her to find answers.

She needed to figure out what to do next, but no ideas came to her. Sister Agatha pulled off the road into a rest area, suddenly aware that she’d forgotten to do the most important thing of all. Bowing her head, she prayed with all her heart. “Lord, I’m so sorry. I did it again. I know You don’t go where You’re not invited, and here I was thinking that I could do something without You. Show me what I have to do, where I should go.”

As she finished her prayer and looked over, she saw Pax sitting up, looking at her expectantly. She reached out and stroked his massive neck.

Sister Agatha noted the rapidly gathering clouds and felt
the wind rising ever so slightly. They’d have a storm later today for sure. Seeing a piece of trash blowing past her and into the adjacent field, she glanced at it absently. The torn newspaper page had a photo of one of the local public high schools. Slowly an idea formed in her mind.

“I’ve got it, Pax. Let’s go to St. Charles,” she said, speaking of the local parochial school. “Maybe we can find out something helpful about Liz and her family. And while we’re there, I’ll ask around and see if anyone on staff remembers Jimmy Garza or fell victim to him. Our town is small, so there’s a good chance we might get lucky.”

Whispering a prayer of thanks, she drove north into Bernalillo. The school parking lot was almost empty by the time she got there, suggesting that the students and most of the staff were gone for the day. Sister Agatha parked in a visitor’s space, then walked to the office with Pax at her side. Mary Wagner, the younger of the two school secretaries, looked up from her desk and smiled as they walked in.

“Hey, Sister Agatha! It’s good to see you and Pax. What can I do for you today?”

“I was hoping to use the school administration’s computer to get some information on a former student—Elizabeth Leland.”

“You’re on our substitute staff, so you’re authorized, but you won’t be able to print out any of her records, of course,” she said, then added, “But isn’t Liz in public school now?”

Sister Agatha nodded. “Liz is in a bit of trouble, and I need some information.”

“Then go for it,” she said.

Sister Agatha read Liz’s file, but there was nothing there that she didn’t already know. “I guess I struck out.”

“Maybe you should talk to Kasey Gordon, our librarian.

The students got out early today because of a teacher conference in Albuquerque, but she’s still around. Liz worked as her student aide for a semester, I think.”

Sister Agatha walked down the hall to the library, now labeled the “media” center, and went in. The blinds were closed, and the only light came from the fixtures and through a half-opened window. A young woman barely out of her twenties was shelving books from a wheeled cart, unaware that she had company. Sister Agatha cleared her throat, and the woman jumped and spun around.

“Sister, I didn’t hear you come in!” she said with an embarrassed smile.

“I’m Sister Agatha,” she said, extending her hand.

“Mrs. Gordon—Kasey. I recognized you the instant I saw your dog. You’re practically a legend around here.” She gestured toward her office, a room within the library. “Can I get something for you to drink? I’ve got some soft drinks in there today, with the children gone.”

Sister Agatha shook her head. “I just wanted to talk to you for a few moments about Liz Leland.”

“Liz is attending public school now, and I can tell you that I was sure sorry to see her go. She’s one of those kids who’s poised on a fence and can go either direction. I think she would have had a better chance of staying out of trouble if she’d remained at St. Charles. But it wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Liz still comes by to visit from time to time though.”

“She got under your skin, did she?” Sister Agatha observed.

“Yeah, she did, mostly because I’ve been in her shoes. My parents lost all their savings in a land-fraud deal a con man ran a few years back. All of a sudden my college fund was gone. I ended up living at home, working part-time, and taking night classes.”

The mention of a land fraud scam got Sister Agatha’s immediate attention. “Your parents didn’t get caught up in that scheme run by James Garza, did they?”

Kasey nodded. “You remember? So many families around here lost everything. Garza and his cronies literally got away with murder.” Kasey led Sister Agatha to a low desk that held a sign reading
CHECK OUT MATERIALS HERE
. On the desk was a small computer terminal, which the librarian quickly accessed. “I’ve kept a personal folder filled with links to articles about him—like a scrapbook—so I don’t ever forget how he almost wiped out my future. Garza broke out of jail, and they never caught him. But I intend to remember the man. If he ever comes back, I’ll know him and I’ll have the cops down on him in a flash. I’d love to see that man in prison where he belongs.”

Judging from the number at the bottom of the file, Sister Agatha could see it was several pages long. “It may take me some time to get through this but I’d like to see it. Would you mind?”

“I have to go meet a potential guest speaker for my students, but you can stay and take as much time as you want. When you finish, exit back to the main screen and leave the terminal on. Also, be sure to ask the custodian to lock up this office and the media center. She’s around somewhere, cleaning rooms.”

“Not a problem.”

“I’ll catch you later, Sister,” she said, walking to the main door, and turning off all the library lights except the one above the desk. “Do you mind, Sister? We’re trying to save on the electric bill.”

“That’s fine.”

Kasey waved, pulled the library door shut, then disappeared. Sister Agatha got down to work right away. Finding a
grainy press photo of James Garza, she zoomed in and cleaned up the distortion created by the newsprint as much as she could.