by Lynne Hinton
“It’s a couple of hundred yards to the west.” He never took his eyes off of Eve, never smiled, never showed anything other than suspicion and distrust. He appeared exactly the way he had appeared every time she’d seen him at the monastery, mad and aloof.
“That’s what I thought once I got out of my truck and looked around.”
She waited, but there was no response.
“This is a nice place you have out here.”
The man kept a close eye on her, and she knew how unlikely her story sounded. Who doesn’t know the difference between a cabin, a private residence, and a national forest campground?
“I got out to ask somebody, well, ask you, I guess, where the campground is.”
He didn’t respond, and they could both hear the dog barking from inside.
“Wow, that sounds like quite a guard dog you’ve got in there.” She pointed with her thumb to the house behind her. “Bet you don’t have many intruders or thieves around your place.”
“Campground’s closed,” he announced. He turned aside from Eve and peered into the front seat of the truck. She hoped there was nothing inside to give her away, hoped the revolver hadn’t slid out from under the seat.
“Yes, I know,” she said. “I was just scouting a few places for this summer. You see, I used to camp a lot at Holy Ghost and some at Jack’s Creek. I’ve never been out to Panchuela, so I thought I’d drive out here and get a peek before I make reservations.”
He did not reply. The line of his mouth had thinned and hardened even more.
“Is the gate open at the campground? Might I be able to walk around and take a look?” She hoped she was sounding believable by this time in the conversation.
He shook his head and glanced again at her vehicle.
“You backed in from the road?”
Eve felt her face flush. She cleared her throat and thought for a second, knowing she didn’t have a quick answer for that. She glanced behind her.
“I just drove behind your house and then turned around.”
She could only hope there was enough room behind the cabin to make that excuse plausible. “I had just turned around and was leaving when I heard your truck coming, and that’s when I got out so that I could let you know who I was, let you know I wasn’t some crazy person nosing around.”
The Captain would kill me right about now! The thought of her father standing there and listening to this conversation made her shake her head. She was running out of believable lies, and she wondered if she might need that gun he’d planted for her after all. And then she wondered how on earth she’d be able to get to it if she did find herself in a confrontation with John Barr.
“I guess you got your answer then,” he responded and started walking away from her. “This ain’t the campground.”
Eve took in a breath, hardly believing her good fortune. “No, it isn’t. And I’m sorry for being on your property.”
“Just make sure you get off of it.”
And when she turned around to thank him for the information, he had already entered through his front door.
As quickly as she could, Eve jumped in the truck and sped away.
FORTY
Sister Eve intended to drive to the Tererro Café and use the phone to let the Captain or Daniel know about her discovery at John Barr’s cabin. In the closet, she had seen and touched a cape hanging on the door, a blue cape that had been ripped at the bottom. She had seen it and she had recognized it, matching it to the piece of material she had taken from the victim’s hand. That little piece of blue fabric clutched in the fingers of the dead professor had come from that cape.
She threw on her seat belt and drove as fast as she could up the dirt road and back over to the state highway. She didn’t stop at the intersection, didn’t even look to see if another car was coming from Jack’s Creek or Cowles, the only two places north of where she drove; she just made the turn and kept going. She hurried in the direction from which she had originally come, knowing that it was less than ten miles to Tererro, hoping he wouldn’t try to follow her.
“Come on, come on …,” she said to herself as she pressed on the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel, trying not to think about John Barr finding her phone near the window or about how close she had come to being caught inside his house. She drove, saying a prayer of thanks that she had gotten out of the residence before the owner had driven up, realizing how lucky she had been and how close she had come.
She tried to drive as carefully but as fast as she could and get to the village diner. She recalled the pay phone in the entrance and knew the Captain would be waiting for her call. She glanced up from the road ahead and to the rearview mirror. She felt a bit of relief when she did not see any vehicle following.
Eve drove quickly, thinking about what she had seen and about what she had not seen. She felt confused and a little disappointed. Barr had been assigned to the room beside the victim. And yes, the cape was in his closet. Yes, it had clearly been in the room when Kelly was poisoned.
But who had been wearing it? Barr? And why? Why would Barr kill Kelly? It made no sense. He had no motive unless he was crazier than she thought, more dangerous than the members of the community thought.
Maybe it was something else. Maybe Barr was protecting Anthony. Maybe the police were right and Anthony did kill his sister and Barr saw what happened and helped him escape, drove the monk away from the monastery, took him somewhere to hide, and then stashed away this evidence.
But Eve found no evidence in the cabin that John Barr had entertained company. There had been nothing at all proving that someone else had been staying with him. Anthony was not there, and there was nothing to show he had ever been there. No extra towels in the bathroom, no second bed made; there were two cups and saucers, but from what she had seen in Barr’s house, he had spent the previous night alone.
Still, she remembered having seen Barr’s truck leave the monastery on the night of the murder even if she hadn’t seen that Anthony was with him. She hadn’t really seen the monk in the truck with Barr that night, and yet Anthony riding out with the strange man made sense. It seemed to her that it would have been the best way for Anthony to escape. But where had the two men gone? Where had Barr taken him?
Did Anthony give the man this cape? Did he kill his sister dressed as the Blue Nun and then make his getaway with John?
Eve drove, avoiding the potholes and keeping her speed steady, trying to make sense of what it meant that John Barr had the blue cape, the cape that someone who had been in the room with Kelly Middlesworth at the time of her death had worn. Eve assumed when she found the fragment of cloth that the victim had reached out, probably from where she had fallen, and taken hold of the hem of the garment, grabbed it, and pulled, tearing away a piece.
Was John Barr the killer? Was he with Anthony? Did he come to the monastery to commit murder? Did he have the writings of Sister Maria? Or did Anthony give him the cape and go into hiding? All those books, articles, was this an obsession that could lead to the murder of one of those scholars?
And then, suddenly, there was another thought, another question that caused her to grip the wheel and press the gas even harder: Did John Barr kill Anthony too? She bit her bottom lip and tried to shake away thoughts of a second murder. She prayed a prayer for her friend, prayed a prayer that he was safe and away from this man he had befriended. She prayed to the Virgin Mary and even to Sister Maria that the holy women would watch over the young monk and keep him out of harm’s way.
When she rounded the corner into the village of Tererro, arriving at the driveway for the café and the post office, she pulled into the shared parking area, realizing immediately that something was askew. There was not a vehicle in sight and not a soul in the vicinity. The entire area was deserted.
Eve drove to the back of the café, parked
, and looked around. She turned off the engine and got out, deciding to go first to the entrance of the café and try the door. She hoped that even though there were no cars parked around the place, someone was there. She hoped that either Ralph or Jen, the waitress and the cook she remembered from breakfast, might still be somewhere on-site.
She glanced over to the post office as she made her way to the café, noticing that no one could be seen standing behind the counter. She didn’t see a clerk on the side where she had gone earlier or a customer on the side where they would find their mailboxes. As she walked past she was able to make out the sign on the door indicating that the hours for Fridays were limited to only the morning. Rosemary had closed the station at noon and, according to the posted information, wouldn’t return until the following Monday. The lights were out in the building and an orange Closed sign had been stuck in the window.
She got to the entrance of the café, and it was clear that the eating establishment next to the post office was also closed. The sign on the door posted the same hours as the ones for the post office for the last day of the workweek. Apparently, Eve thought, the residents of Tererro had plans to go out of town on the weekends.
Eve looked around, trying to find a driveway or house close by. She knew it wasn’t that far to the monastery, less than an hour’s drive, but she wanted to make a call as quickly as she could. She wanted to contact the Captain, let him know she was okay and not to call her phone again; and she wanted to call Daniel, tell him what she had found, tell him where John Barr lived and share her concern about Anthony.
She wanted to tell him to broaden the search for the missing monk. She wanted him to search harder not because she believed Anthony was a suspect, not because she was now agreeing with the police that he was involved in the murder of his sister, but because after what she had found in John Barr’s cabin, she was deeply concerned for his well-being. She wanted to find Anthony and make sure he was okay.
Once she had come face-to-face with John Barr, she knew the police needed to question him about his involvement with Anthony the night of the murder. Even though it was unclear what his role was in the homicide, what she found in his closet indicated that he was somehow connected to the deceased.
Eve turned and headed to her truck, hearing the approach of a vehicle from the direction of Panchuela. She hurried to the back of the café, hoping she had pulled in far enough that her truck could not be seen from the road. She crouched behind the rear of the building and peeked around the corner.
John Barr’s white truck went flying past.
FORTY-ONE
Eve jumped in the truck and started the engine. She wasn’t sure where John Barr was going, but once she considered the fact that he might lead her to Anthony, she knew she had to follow him. At that particular moment, she realized, she was the only one who knew of the connection between the older man and the missing monk. She didn’t want to lose this lead; she didn’t want to lose the opportunity to find Brother Anthony.
Of course, she thought as she pulled out of the driveway, she had intended to make a phone call and let others in on what was happening. She had tried to find a phone and make a call letting the police and her father know what was going on just a few miles north of the monastery. However, after encountering John Barr and then seeing him speed away, she knew her first priority was to find the young monk. And after everything she had come across at the cabin, she was growing more and more certain that the man from Pecos Canyon knew where Anthony was.
She pulled onto the state highway and headed south, following the white truck that had just blown past the Tererro post office and café. She topped off at sixty miles an hour but still couldn’t see him anywhere ahead. She knew the road she was on, Highway 63, was the only main road to travel, so she was confident that if Barr was heading to any town that had a name, Glorieta or Pecos, he would stay on that paved passageway.
She drove on, slowing down as she made the curves, wondering where the man was going, wondering if he might stop at the monastery, which she thought was a good possibility. Perhaps he did recognize her back at his cabin and he was angry that she had been there. Perhaps he was planning to go to the monastery, throw her cell phone on Father Oliver’s desk, and let him know what she had done. Maybe he was going to speak to the detectives and lodge a complaint against her for breaking and entering.
However, as she followed, something told her that he had no intention of going back to the scene of the crime. Something told her that he had found her phone, knew she was on to him, and was going to Brother Anthony, ultimately leading her to the missing monk.
Eve regretted losing her phone, imagining the Captain criticizing her for such a stupid mistake and Daniel’s protests for putting herself in such danger. She also regretted the loss since it appeared she would be unable to place a call as long as she was in pursuit of Barr. She pushed the gas and sped up, looking quickly down every driveway she passed to make sure the man hadn’t turned onto another path and was heading to someplace she hadn’t considered.
She glanced down at her watch, assessing the time she had been away and what was happening at the community. It was an hour after lunch and a few more than that before vespers for those still in residence and retreat at the monastery. Eve traveled on and suddenly thought about the daily activities at her old community, how everyone who lived there had a role to play and afternoon tasks and duties to complete.
She drove along the twists and turns of Highway 63, getting closer and closer to the monastery, and knew that Father Oliver would be in his office at that hour, likely still dealing with the media and the archdiocese, perhaps even the police. Eve saw the abbot in her mind’s eye, his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his desk. He anguished, she knew, over the whereabouts of Anthony as well as the accusations the young monk would be facing when he returned. He anguished over the death of the visiting professor and the theft of the holy writings as well.
She guessed that the vice superior would have likely fasted and prayed throughout the two nights since the body of Kelly Middlesworth was found in her guest room and that he continued to lament over what was unfolding in his community with this homicide and what had occurred regarding the nuns.
As she came near the gates of the monastery, Eve spotted the white truck just ahead of her. John Barr was less than a mile ahead. Eve pressed on the gas pedal and sped past the community and through the little village of Pecos. Barr had not stopped at the monastery. He was not lodging a complaint with Father Oliver, and she was not going to be able to stop and tell anyone what was going on; she was not going to be able to call the Captain or speak to one of the detectives. She was on her own, following Barr wherever he was leading her.
He was still traveling south, and as they drove Eve wasn’t sure if he would pick up Highway 25 and go in the direction of the state capital of Santa Fe or north to Rowe and Las Vegas, maybe even Colorado. She followed, uncertain of where he was going but trying to stay far enough behind him that Barr wouldn’t know he had a tail.
As she drove past the monastery gates, she tried to see if police cars were still in the lot or if she could spot one of the detectives walking the grounds. She was driving fast and was able to get only a glimpse, but she saw nothing that drew her attention to the community buildings. There was no black-and-white police car, no Daniel standing near the front gates, no news van, no Texas professors that she could see, and no Detective Lujan. And again, as she thought of the man partnered with her father’s old friend, she felt a slight flutter in her chest and a sense of confusion about what she was feeling.
Sister Eve shook her head, recalling her embarrassment when the Captain told Daniel that he believed she had a crush on the police officer. And she recalled the vehement denial she had made. She had changed the subject as quickly as she could, diverting the attention away from the subject of her “crush” and back to the issue at
hand, namely, the murder that Daniel had come to investigate.
“I do not have a crush,” she said out loud, as if she were having a conversation with the Captain. “I am following a crazy man,” she added and pressed her foot on the gas, creeping a little closer to the white truck as it exited the state highway and headed south on the interstate.
FORTY-TWO
Barr hurried past all four of the exits off Interstate 25 leading into the city of Santa Fe, merging in and out of the lanes. He never slowed, never showed any signs of going to the state capital. As he moved past St. Francis Street, the Rail Runner Express station, and the relief route going around the city, Eve knew they were getting closer to Highway 14. She knew it was an unlikely possibility, but she was a bit hopeful that perhaps Barr would head in the direction of her hometown of Madrid. If he did, she was certain that she could stop by and pick up the Captain. She knew every side road and shortcut around the Cerrillos Hills and was sure that she could swing by the house, get her father, and still not lose Barr.
However, as they drove past the exit near La Cienega, past the turnoff to the Santa Fe Downs horse track, and across the highway to the state penitentiary, it didn’t appear to Eve that he was going to Madrid. He maintained a southern direction, staying on the interstate while she remained close, trying not to capture his unwanted attention by keeping a safe distance between them.
Where are you going, John Barr? she wondered, following him as they both kept to the speed limit of seventy-five miles per hour, traveling toward Albuquerque, never slowing or stopping.
They headed up La Bajada, the incline south of Santa Fe that was often the reason for a closure of the interstate because of frequent ice and snow in the area during the winter months, and past the Cochiti Pueblo. He hurried beyond the village of Budaghers and the Pueblo of San Felipe before finally taking the exit at Bernalillo.