False Witness

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “Go ahead. I can take it from here.”

  “Excuse me, Pax,” Chuck said, edging by the dog, whose head had gone up as the phone began ringing.

  Sister Agatha clicked the mouse again, enlarging the article enough to read the text without a magnifying glass. Several photos were included, including one identifying Angela Sanchez. It was a grainy snapshot taken at some outdoor event. Angie’s face was so washed-out from the light it was impossible to match the image to the photo John had given her.

  Sister Agatha leaned back in her chair, her gaze focused on the on-screen image. The only features that seemed somewhat clear in the photo were Angie’s dark hair and expressive large eyes, but they weren’t enough to make her recognizable. Before long Chuck came back into the room.

  He studied the image on the screen. “Neither photo looks like anyone I know in town, and, all modesty aside, I do know everyone,” he said.

  “I think this is a dead end,” she said, and stood. “I better be on my way then.” Pax walked over and sat by her side, alert to the likelihood they’d be leaving.

  “I was hoping you’d have some time to talk,” he said, obviously disappointed.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, curious about his reaction.

  “No. Well, maybe. Look it’s almost dinnertime. How about I treat you to a roast beef sub? It’s a foot-long, but I’m not that hungry.”

  “All right,” she said, following him to the small break room at the back. Pax followed, a step behind them.

  Chuck brought out a paper sack from the fridge, placed half of the sandwich on a paper napkin before her, and the other half on a napkin for himself. Then he brought out two cans of soda.

  Sister Agatha bowed her head and said Grace, and Chuck added a quick “Amen” before taking a quick bite of his sandwich. “Janice has offered me a partnership in the business but, until now, I’ve never stayed anywhere longer than a few years. How do you do it, Sister? Doesn’t it get boring, the same ’ole same ’ole?”

  After allowing herself a moment to enjoy the beef and crisp lettuce, she answered his question. “Once you find the work that was meant to be yours—and you’ll know in your heart when you do—you’ll never worry about something like that again. You’ll still have good and bad days, everyone does, but finding your niche also brings inner peace, which is a blessing all on its own,” she said. “What I’m saying to you is this—if you love your work here, go for it.”

  Hearing a loud clank just outside the window, Chuck muttered a soft curse and set down his sandwich. “It’s those punk kids again.”

  Pax stood, growling low, his ears up.

  “I’ll run them off, then come right back, Sister. We put bars on the windows to keep them from breaking in, but they still keep trying.”

  “I’m going with you, and so’s Pax. I’m afraid the Harley might be their target.”

  “Okay. With Pax around, we can gang up on them,” he said, grabbing a flashlight from a shelf, though there were bright floodlights around the building.

  Sister Agatha followed Chuck and Pax out the front door. They checked the Harley and sidecar parked in front, along with Chuck’s old pickup. Then she and Pax followed Chuck around to the rear of the building.

  He swept the flashlight in a big circle, then directed the beam at the window. “The little dipsticks are gone now, but they’ve been fiddling with the bars on this window. I’d better take a closer look and make sure they haven’t pried any loose. You might as well go back inside and finish your sandwich. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll make a printout of the article with the photo, too, while I’m waiting. It may come in handy.”

  Sister Agatha and Pax went back to Janice’s office. She’d just clicked on “print” when the lights suddenly went out. The soft glow of the computer monitor screen became the only source of illumination, and it cast a greenish aura around her.

  Sister Agatha heard the beep that came from the computer’s backup battery, and checked to make sure the article was being printed. Fortunately, the ink-jet printer was on battery power, too. The page was almost printed when she heard the front door click open. “Chuck?”

  Pax’s hackles rose, he growled, and a heartbeat later, the big white dog bolted out of the room. She heard him bark once, then there was the sound of a door slamming shut. After that, the sound of his barking suddenly became muted. He’d somehow become trapped in another room.

  Her heart hammering at her throat, Sister Agatha reached for her cell phone, called Tom’s direct line, and gave him a quick report. “I can hear Pax barking up a storm, so I think he must be okay. But I don’t know who’s out there. It’s not Chuck. He would have answered my call, and Pax wouldn’t have reacted like that.”

  “Lock yourself in Janice’s office, or block the door,” he instructed instantly. “One of us will be there in minutes. And don’t worry about Pax. He can take care of himself.”

  She closed up the cell phone and inched toward the door, torn between following Tom’s instructions and going to help her dog. Moving silently, Sister Agatha listened for the intruder, but all she could hear was Pax’s furious barking.

  The farther she got from the computer screen, the darker the room became, and she was forced to feel her way around the file cabinets. She was almost at the door when she felt a stirring in the air and the almost imperceptible warmth of another body slipping past her in the dark. Danger had now found her.

  10

  SISTER AGATHA HELD HER BREATH, THEN, GLANCING back, saw a figure cross in front of the computer. The illumination from the screen silhouetted him. Sister Agatha stepped silently out into the hall, suspecting from his actions that the intruder didn’t have a fix on her position yet. Suddenly the shrill wail of sirens overwhelmed the sound of Pax’s barking, which seemed to be coming from the next room.

  Hearing it also, the intruder spun around, and, before she could take another step, they collided. The impact knocked her to the floor. Sister Agatha looked up as her assailant opened the rear exit and fled outside. He was visible for only a second as he ran past the glow of a streetlight, but she was almost certain it was a man. By the time she struggled to her feet and ran to the door, there was no sign of him.

  Sister Agatha went back and opened the door next to Janice’s office, releasing the dog. Excited and angry, Pax spotted the open exit door and shot toward it but, at her command, came to an abrupt stop.

  The room lights were switched on again, and Sister Agatha squinted at the sudden brightness. Less than ten seconds later, Pax began to wag his tail and Chuck came in, the room lights giving his face a deathly pallor.

  “Are you two okay in here?” Chuck asked quickly. “I got coldcocked by some jerk. He must have also turned off the lights at the outside panel. I flipped them back on as soon as I came to my senses again.”

  Before she could answer, an unmarked car with flashing red emergency lights slid to a stop in the gravel of the parking lot. Tom came running in, his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Where’s the intruder?”

  “He’s gone,” Sister Agatha said. “Ran off just before Chuck got the lights back on.”

  “So you never got a look at him?” Tom asked, moving his hand away from his weapon.

  “From his outline in the glow of the computer monitor, and the brief glance I got when he ran outside, I got the impression that the intruder was a man, but that’s all I can tell you. I’m not even sure of his height. When I was actually close to him, he was leaning over.”

  “Did he take anything?” Tom pressed.

  “I have no idea,” Sister Agatha said.

  Tom glared at Chuck Moody. “Well?”

  “Well, what, sheriff? I didn’t see what went on in here. I was outside checking the bars on the windows when I got slugged from behind. Knocked me out cold. We’ve been having trouble with kids, so when we heard a noise outside….”

  “You think this was the work of a kid?” Tom asked, l
ooking at Sister Agatha, then back at Chuck.

  “No way,” Sister Agatha replied first. “I mean, I suppose it’s possible, but then we’d be talking about a kid who’s adult size, strong, and very cool under pressure. Pax isn’t fooled easily as you know, and he somehow managed to trick the dog and shut him inside that room,” Sister Agatha said, pointing.

  Tom checked it out. “He must have thrown something in there. The dog went after the sound and got locked in.”

  Chuck retrieved a can of cola out of the fridge and held it up to the back of his head. “I’d offer you one, Sister, but this is the last of the batch, and my head’s going to explode without it. Wish we had some ice trays in there.”

  “You should get that looked at, Moody,” Tom said.

  “Nah. It’ll be fine once the swelling goes down. I’ve taken worse knocks.”

  “Okay. Then let’s take a look around. I need to know what—if anything—was taken,” Tom said.

  Chuck led the way through the remaining rooms, then at long last shook his head. The gesture made him wince. “He didn’t take anything important or I’d have noticed. I don’t think he had time, and, remember, he was operating in the dark when he sneaked in.”

  “Wait.” Sister Agatha walked to the printer beside Janice’s computer. The output tray was empty. Ducking quickly beneath the desk and finding nothing there, or anywhere on the floor, she stood back up. “He grabbed the printout of an article I’d found with Angie Sanchez’s photo. I can print another one so it’s no big deal, but that sure seems like an odd thing to take.”

  “No one touch the machines. Maybe he left some prints,” Tom said quickly, then in a thoughtful voice added, “But this really doesn’t add up. He went to all the trouble of breaking in here just so he could take a printout of an article he could have dug up at, say, the library?”

  “It takes a subscription fee and a password, but, yes, anyone could have accessed the information,” Chuck said. “Maybe he thought you were printing out something really important, Sister, so he grabbed it.”

  “Maybe he followed me here wanting to know what I was up to,” Sister Agatha suggested.

  “Did you see someone tailing you again?” Tom asked.

  “No, but the Harley was parked out in front. It’s bright red and hard to miss under the floodlights.”

  “I’m going to have my deputies do a little digging and see what they can turn up on the monastery’s enemies.”

  After she gave him her statement, Tom began a search for prints. Knowing she was no longer needed, Sister Agatha said good-bye and drove down the road to the Siesta Inn. She needed to talk to John Gutierrez.

  After parking, she motioned to Pax. “Okay, boy. Out. We have to make this a quick visit, so let’s get a move on.”

  Less than five minutes after leaving The Chronicle, Sister Agatha sat on a chair facing John’s bed while Pax remained at “sit and stay” near the door. Ralph Simpson, who’d let her in, sat back in a corner chair, not taking part in the exchange.

  Sister Agatha told her ailing client what she’d learned about Angie Sanchez—the trial witness. John sat up, very interested, nodding his head with each new detail. When she finished her report, he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes for several moments.

  At long last he opened them again. “It’s the same Angie, Sister. When that story broke it made all the regional newspapers,” he admitted slowly. “I tried desperately to contact Angie back then, but I wasn’t able to do it. The private investigators I hired couldn’t track her down, either. I let it go, figuring law enforcement people would be keeping her safe.” He paused, then reluctantly added, “I was also convinced that she’d eventually call and ask for my help. But she never did. Then, when I learned that my time was running out, I knew I had to find her. Only by that time, the trail was stone cold.”

  “The problem is that she may not want anyone to find her, and that’s going to make it a lot tougher. She’s been covering her trail, no doubt, and is probably using an alias,” Sister Agatha answered.

  “That’s why you’re the best person for the job. She’s more likely to trust a nun than some private detective,” he said, then in a strong voice added, “Find her for me, Sister Agatha, so I can die in peace.”

  “I’ll stay on it,” she said, standing up. “But you should have mentioned the criminal trial to me before. Is there anything else you’re holding back?”

  “No,” he said softly. “You know everything I do now.”

  “Then we’ll talk again soon.”

  Pondering all the recent events, she and Pax returned to the monastery. Sister Agatha unlocked the parlor door, and, as she stepped inside, saw Sister Bernarda placing a small thermos on the desk.

  “It’s past seven and we’re all at recreation,” Sister Bernarda said, “but Sister Clothilde wanted to make sure you ate something. She saved some hot soup for you.”

  “I’ll be sure to thank her. I’m freezing.” Sister Agatha poured the creamy tomato soup into the cup and sipped it gratefully. Nights were getting cold now, and riding in the motorcycle after dark just seemed to drain the heat from her body.

  “While you’re warming up, I’ll take Pax into the kitchen for his supper,” Sister Bernarda said, signaling the dog.

  Sister Agatha had just finished her soup when Sister de Lourdes walked past the parlor’s grille, saw her, and came out of the enclosure to talk. “We’ve had more problems in the scriptorium.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “When Merilee compared our e-mail files with NexCen’s invoices to verify that all the orders were getting through now, she found the messages from ‘Wilder.’ The name immediately caught her eye. It’s one of the characters in a role-playing computer game that NexCen has been involved with recently.”

  “What’s the game about?”

  “A pig in battle gear who goes on quests. But it’s not for young children. I saw parts of the game, and it was very violent. Merilee told me that the earlier versions of Wilder’s Quest had some bugs in it, and that a lot of people got angry with NexCen. Some of the users had to buy new video cards in order to play the game.”

  “Interesting. Anything else?”

  “She also told me in confidence that NexCen is very focused on their bottom line, and unless things start running more smoothly for us, they’ll give the mail-order contract to another company after our trial period is over.”

  “That’s hardly fair! If we’re getting outside interference from one of NexCen’s disgruntled customers, the monastery’s not to blame.”

  “I pointed that out myself, but she said that if we couldn’t fix the problem—meaning her and us—we’d both suffer. Her job’s at stake, too, so she’ll be checking with us periodically.”

  Still annoyed at the news from NexCen, Sister Agatha went to the kitchen, rinsed out the thermos, and left a thank-you note for Sister Clothilde. The small, unselfish acts, like making sure an extern had something warm waiting for her after she returned from town, helped define their monastery and what they stood for. Here, time wasn’t measured in dollars and cents. It was measured in good deeds and blessings. When everything was done for God’s glory, life all of a sudden became easier.

  As she walked outside past the kitchen into the garden, Sister Agatha saw Sister Bernarda sitting alone on the bench near the statue of St. Joseph and went to join her.

  “Are you all right?” Sister Agatha asked her softly.

  “Of course,” Sister Bernarda replied, too quickly to be convincing. Realizing it, she shook her head. “No, not really. I’ve spoken to Reverend Mother, and after Compline I’m going to stay in chapel for as long as it takes. I know that becoming a bride of Christ was the right decision for me. I chose God and continue to choose Him. Yet I still can’t get this sadness out of my head.”

  “So Reverend Mother knows what’s been bothering you?”

  Sister Bernarda nodded. “She said to give it time, and to not be afraid to disc
uss my feelings with the sisters who have already gone through the change.” She paused for a long moment. “The worst part of all this is the feeling deep in my gut that I’m falling short of what He expects of me.”

  “No, you’re falling short of what you expect of yourself. But every day is a new day. And, if you fail to master your feelings today—and remember a lot of those are based on your body’s chemistry, not your heart—there’s always tomorrow. A contemplative’s life is all about patience.”

  Hearing the bell announcing Compline, Sister Agatha bowed her head and followed Sister Bernarda inside to chapel. Sister Agatha remained with Sister Bernarda in chapel long after Compline and the start of the Great Silence. In the quiet that surrounded and protected them, she joined her prayers to those of her fellow extern.

  It was around ten when the dull throbbing in her joints reminded Sister Agatha that she’d forgotten to take her arthritis medication again. She closed her eyes in prayer, trying to shut out the pain, and reached out to her Lord, asking for His help for both herself and Sister Bernarda.

  Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Sister Agatha looked up and saw Sister Eugenia motioning for her to follow. Sister Agatha went with her, knowing Sister Eugenia would have her pills close by. Just as she stepped out of the stall, Reverend Mother came in to take her place. Sister Bernarda wouldn’t be alone tonight. The spirit of the monastery would enfold her gently and lead her into the arms of God.

  11

  AFTER MASS AND MORNING PRAYERS, SISTER AGATHA went straight to the parlor and found it more crowded than usual. Sister Bernarda was there wearing a leather tool belt, sitting on the floor working on one of the outlets. Sister de Lourdes was manning the parlor’s desk, her breviary open before her.

  “Reverend Mother told us that your work for the monastery will require you to be away for irregular periods of time these next few days,” Sister de Lourdes said, looking up. “I’ll be taking your place as portress so you can be free to come and go.”