The Prodigal Nun (17 page)

Tom listened closely as she told him about the squad car’s number. “Hang on a minute,” he said when she finished.

Sister Agatha listened to the sound of typing; then Tom picked up the phone again.

“I know who Sister Jo saw—at least which deputy is assigned to that vehicle,” he said. “I’ll be asking him about this myself, but I can’t tell you who it is and risk compromising an undercover op.”

“Is that what she saw—an ongoing undercover operation?” Sister Agatha pressed, following her instincts.

He paused. “I’ll have to check the records, but from the description, I’m fairly sure that’s what was going on that morning.”

Sister Agatha noted his momentary hesitation. The identity of the deputy had obviously disturbed him.

“Who was the officer?” She was afraid she already knew the answer. “You
know
I can keep whatever you tell me in strict confidence. I can also read the numbers myself on department vehicles, so it’s something I’m bound to discover sooner or later.”

There was a long pause, then Tom finally responded. “Vehicle number 73 is assigned to Deputy Gerald Bennett.”

Sister Agatha continued as portress for the rest of the day, giving Sister Bernarda and Sister Jo the opportunity to deliver the Good News meals and then catch up on their work as sacristans. Sister de Lourdes, who’d been working double time trying to keep up with her scriptorium work as well as take over as portress whenever needed, also deserved a break.

Sister Agatha welcomed her own return to familiar routines because, through them, she always found the peace that allowed her to think clearly. Though none of the sisters would have ever put any undue pressure on her by careless comments, they had a right to expect results. The case had to be solved soon.

In an effort to get a new perspective on the events of the case, she twisted the facts around in her head as the day passed. She was deep in thought at the parlor desk when a possibility she hadn’t considered before suddenly came to her. Tom had been disturbed by the possibility that there’d been an undercover op going on he hadn’t known about—but what if Sister Jo had seen exactly what she’d been set up to witness?

Maybe the deputy had engineered things so a nun would inadvertently witness the meeting. That theory was intriguing—but it had one major loophole. How could the deputy who’d
photographed Sister Jo on the Harley have known for sure that a nun, any nun, would be there at that particular time?

The answer to that question came to her later that night during the Great Silence. As Sister Agatha once again went over the sequence of events, she suddenly realized that the crank call must have come from the deputy. It was the only thing that made sense. The entire community knew about the Good News deliveries, and the fact that Our Lady of Hope provided a portion of the service. A call to the monastery at the right time, and a plea for help, would have been enough to set things in motion. The only things the deputy couldn’t have known were which nun would come and what form of transportation she’d be using. The Antichysler and the Harley were both well known, though, so all the deputy would have had to do was get into position and wait.

The photo’s implied threat was clear—but maybe she’d misread the intent. It could have been the killer’s way of taunting them, of showing them that they were at his mercy.

As plausible as that was, it was still just one more theory. There were many variables left to explore. What she needed to do was talk to Sister Jo again.

The Great Silence pulsed with a life of its own within the walls of the monastery. As it happened, newcomer Sister Jo lived inside St. Francis’s Pantry, where one of the rooms had been converted to a bedroom for overnight visitors. Willing to stretch the rules just a bit considering the seriousness of the matter, Sister Agatha hurried outside to talk to her, Pax at her side.

The small building—the original residence on the property—was dark as she approached, but Sister Agatha was fully prepared to wake Sister Jo if need be. She had to check a few facts and find out if, at long last, she was on the right track.

Sister Agatha knocked loudly on the door to St. Francis’s
Pantry, but no one answered. Her initial annoyance soon turned to worry. Only the completely stone-deaf could have slept through the din she’d created. Even Pax had flinched every time she’d banged her fist against the door.

Taking her flashlight, she shined it through the open window of the guest room in the back. The small bed was still made, and Sister Jo was nowhere to be seen.

Sister Agatha swallowed the bitter taste of fear that touched the back of her throat. There was no need to panic yet. Sister Jo had been with them at Compline. She couldn’t have gone far without a vehicle, and none had been heard leaving the grounds. Maybe she’d returned to the chapel, or perhaps opted for a walk in the garden before going to bed.

Sister Agatha searched the grounds carefully for footprints. The earlier rain had softened the earth, and thanks to the beam of her flashlight, she could see the imprint of Sister Jo’s shoes clearly. With a relieved smile, she followed the trail.

Sister Agatha didn’t worry again until she saw that the tracks led directly to the tall, heavy garden gate. Beyond that high wall was the winery’s vineyard.

As Sister Agatha drew closer, she could see that the combination lock was open and hanging on the hasp. Sister Jo had left the grounds, and the gate was still unlocked, probably so she could get back inside later. Determined to find answers, she followed.

Sister Agatha slipped out the gate silently, Pax leading the way. Suddenly the big dog’s ears pricked up and he shot forward, alerted by a sound only he’d heard.

Trusting the dog’s instincts for trouble, she ran after him, toward the river. As they reached the end of the vineyard, which bordered a shallow irrigation ditch, she heard a woman scream.

Directly ahead, in the glow of the moon, she could see a
man in a dark hooded sweatshirt struggling to push Sister Jo’s head down into the water. Pax snarled and shot forward. Seeing the blur of motion, the man turned and threw up his arm just as the dog struck. Sister Jo’s assailant was knocked back and almost fell as Pax sank his teeth into his forearm.

Sister Agatha had expected a yowl of pain, but the man only grunted, shook his arm, and tried to pull free. Unable to manage it, he reached into his jacket and pulled out an object about the size of a cell phone.

Suddenly there was a bright flash, and Pax yelped, falling to the ground. Free, Sister Jo’s assailant leaped across the ditch and raced into the bosque, the wooded area beyond.

Sister Agatha reached Sister Jo’s side a heartbeat later and pulled the sputtering nun to her knees.

“Are you okay?” Sister Agatha asked her.

Sister Jo wiped the water from her eyes and, still coughing, nodded. Just then Deputy Sims came rushing up.

“She’s okay,” Sister Agatha said, then pointed. “Her assailant went toward the river!”

The officer nodded once, aimed her flashlight in that direction, then took off.

Seconds later Sister Agatha saw Eric Barclay running toward them, carrying a big flashlight.

“What’s going on? I heard a woman scream!” He aimed the flashlight beam at Sister Jo, saw she was soaked and muddy, and helped her to her feet.

“I’m okay,” Sister Jo managed. “Help Pax. He got shocked.”

Sister Agatha reached down and stroked the dog, who had his head up now, though he still looked dazed. She then ran her hand across his side where he’d been shocked. There was no burn, only a few singed hairs. “He was just stunned. He’ll be okay.”

Even as she spoke the dog rose to his feet, ears up. Sister
Agatha continued to pet him as Deputy Sims returned. “I heard a vehicle and followed the sound, but he got away clean. All I saw was dust rising off the road. Did any of you get a good look at him?”

Sister Agatha shook her head. “He had on a hooded sweatshirt—it was either blue or black—and he had a Taser, which he used on Pax. He obviously came prepared. He wasn’t even fazed by the dog.”

“Let’s check the ground for blood,” Sims said.

Sims and Eric both used their flashlights but found nothing except water and mud from the ditch.

“The way Pax bit down on his forearm, there should have been plenty of blood,” Sister Agatha said. “He crunched down hard and shook his head.”

Sister Jo nodded. “Pax’s teeth should have torn right into the guy’s muscles.”

“If he brought something to take out the dog, maybe he also knew enough to pad his arm,” Sims concluded.

“Either that or it was a prosthetic,” Sister Agatha answered.

“I called this in, and Sheriff Green’s on his way over. He wants to check out the incident firsthand,” Deputy Sims said.

Sister Agatha glanced at Eric. “Did you see or hear a vehicle?”

“No. I was outside checking the irrigation systems when I heard the scream.”

Sister Agatha studied the ground and saw a half-smoked cigarette, the burned end crushed. Before she could give it more thought, Sister Bernarda came rushing up holding a flashlight and a cell phone.

“I thought there was something going on out here! I heard a scream, then saw Deputy Sims go racing past the front gate.” Sister Bernarda looked at the young nun and exclaimed, “Sister Jo! Did you go for a swim?”

“No, I was bobbing for crawdads,” Sister Jo mumbled, then managed a weak grin.

Sister Agatha quickly filled Sister Bernarda in on what she knew, then looked back at Sister Jo. “You have some explaining to do, Your Charity. You can start by telling us what you were doing out here at this time of night.”

Sister Jo cringed, then sneezed.

Seeing Sister Jo shivering, Sister Agatha relented. “Let’s go back to your room first. We can talk there after you dry off. Is that okay, Deputy?”

“That’s fine,” Sims replied, still searching the ground with her flashlight.

“Better give me something to tell Reverend Mother,” Sister Bernarda added. “She saw the lights, too.”

Sister Agatha looked back at Sister Jo. “In one sentence or less, what were you doing off monastery grounds at this hour?”

“I…needed a cigarette. That’s mine, Deputy,” she said, pointing to the ground. “He smashed it when he grabbed me from behind.”

“I didn’t even know you smoked.” Sister Agatha closed her eyes and opened them in a gesture of impatience. “I hope that cigarette was worth it.”

“I’d just lit it,” she answered in a thin voice. “The man came from nowhere, and the next thing I knew he was pushing my face into the water.”

“If you’ll let this be a lesson you’ll
never
forget, then maybe some good can come from this terrible incident,” Sister Bernarda said.

Sister Jo nodded miserably, then hugged Pax. “You’re a brave boy, Pax. Thanks!”

Sister Agatha took Sister Bernarda aside and softly added,
“Let Reverend Mother know what happened, but emphasize the bottom line—a major tragedy was averted tonight.”

Almost thirty minutes later, Sheriff Green, Sister Agatha, and a now warm and dry Sister Jo sat together on metal folding chairs in St. Francis’s Pantry. Sister Agatha had brewed them all a cup of hot tea. Nights in the desert, even in spring, could be cold, especially when the sky was clear.

“Start from the beginning, Sister Jo,” Tom said, “and don’t leave any details out, even if you think they’re unimportant.”

Sister Jo nodded, now humbly contrite. “I used to be a smoker and still get cravings from time to time. When I found out that Deputy Sims smoked, I decided to beg a cigarette off her. Well, more than one. I shouldn’t have…but it was never more than one at a time,” she added in a thin whisper. “When we become nuns we give up a lot, but there are two things I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing. Cigarettes are one,” she said with a sheepish smile.

Sister Agatha nearly choked on her tea, but Tom smiled.

“He said not to leave anything out,” Sister Jo added quickly, seeing the annoyed expression on Sister Agatha’s face.

“Stick to the events,” Sister Agatha said.

Sister Jo nodded. “I’ve been walking off the grounds each night after Compline. We all know the combination to the lock at the gate, so I’d open it up, go out for my smoke, then come back and lock it back up again. I wasn’t smoking on our grounds, and with a deputy keeping watch around the outside, I figured I wasn’t hurting anyone.”

“Your actions endangered me, Pax, and you,” Sister Agatha said firmly.

Tom shot her a hard look, and Sister Agatha swallowed her anger and fell silent.

“I know, Sister Agatha. I messed up big-time,” Sister Jo said. “The thing is, I’d always wait until
after
the deputy had circled the wall. That way, since the area had just been checked out, I figured I’d be perfectly safe.”

“My guess is that he was waiting for you. He knew your routine—and the deputy’s,” Tom said. “Deputy Sims should have never made her rounds at predictable times.”

“She doesn’t,” Sister Jo said quickly. “But it’s always within a half hour or so,” she added in a barely audible voice.

“Did your assailant say anything to you?” Tom pressed.

“All I heard was one word, ‘finally.’ But I may be wrong about that. By then, my head was below water and I was trying hard to hold my breath.”

As a tear rolled down her face, Sister Agatha’s heart went out to her. Sister Jo had been through a lot in the past few hours. “From now on, you’ll sleep inside the monastery. I’m sure Mother will agree and find a place for you. If nothing else, the laundry room can double as your cell—or maybe even the parlor.”

Sister Jo nodded. “And I’ll never touch a cigarette again. Not ever. But that other craving of mine…”

Sister Agatha glared at her.

“Cokes, the ones from Mexico,” she added quickly. “They’re made with real sugar, not corn syrup. When I was up in Santa Fe, there was a Mexican restaurant within walking distance that had them, so they were easy to get. I haven’t had much luck since I moved here. But I’ll give those up, too.”

Tom started to laugh, then covered quickly, clearing his throat instead.

Leaving Sister Bernarda to help Sister Jo pack up her
belongings, Sister Agatha stepped outside onto the grounds with the sheriff.