by Amber West
Nails scraped my face as a hand yanked down my blindfold. I didn’t have to look to know it was Sister Marjorie, the pungent smell of lavender oil surrounding her.
“People think city-folks are smarter than folks from little towns like this. If you’re any indication, they’re sorely mistaken.”
I stayed silent, looking at the concrete floor around me. We weren’t in the house in the woods.
“I mean, I think we were pretty clear about how we felt about your actions during our last meeting, weren’t we?”
Sister Marjorie punctuated the end of her question with a kick to my side, right where I’d been slashed during what she confirmed was my last visit with her. I fell over, the pain knocking the wind out of me.
“Get up. I barely tapped you. People are so weak nowadays.”
I inched my way back into a sitting position and winced as Sister Marjorie ripped the tape from my mouth. I exhaled a question while I still had the breath to do so. “What do you want?”
“See, now you would think that’s a good question. But really, the answer lies in what you want.”
I shook my head. “I don’t follow.”
“That’s right. You need things spelled out.” Sister Marjorie held the cross around her neck between two fingers, spinning it as she spoke. “That Sheriff of yours, it’s apparent to everyone how much you like him, and for whatever reason, he seems to have taken a shine to you as well. So, you have a choice. You leave us to our affairs, and we will leave you to yours.”
“Come again?”
She leaned in, her breath sour and warm. “You’ve experienced a small bit of what we’re capable of. Unless you want your boyfriend to be subject to what we can do – and let me assure you, there is so much we can do - then you back off.”
“So, I leave town, forget anything I’ve…” I paused, choosing my words carefully, “anything I think I might know, and you leave Jack alone?”
“I didn’t say anything about leaving. Quite the opposite. You stay in this town with your Sheriff, where we can keep an eye on you. You behave and we keep our deal.”
“You can’t keep getting away with—“
“Now you’re just boring me.” The nun straightened her habit and turned away. “Think about it. I’ll be back. Eventually.”
I pulled against the tape around my limbs, calling after Sister Marjorie.
“Wait!” I watched the nun’s skirts swirl as she turned to face me. “How do I know you haven’t already hurt Jack? I need to know he’s okay before I agree to anything.”
“Fine,” she sighed walking over and pulling a knife out from under her habit. With one quick motion, she tore through the tape holding my feet together, then pointed the knife at my chest. “If you get creative, I get creative, got it?”
I nodded reluctantly, stood up and followed her to the door leading us out to a long, smooth hallway. There were steps going up at one end, and a few more doors like the one we came from all along the lengthy corridor.
Before I could look any longer, she pulled the blindfold back over my eyes and grabbed my arm, jerking me to follow.
Finally we stopped. I listened to her unlock something, and stumbled as she pushed me forward. She yanked the blindfold down again to reveal the room in the convent I had been in before.
There on a table in the center of the room laid Jack, unconscious.
“What did you do to him?”
“I can assure you he is perfectly fine.” Sister Marjorie looked up and added, “Well, he’ll have a headache in the morning and think he had too much whiskey for some reason, but otherwise, he’s fine.”
I took a step in his direction but was stopped by Sister Marjorie’s outstretched arm and very sharp knife.
“No, no. Plenty of time for that when he’s back home and awake. Do we have a deal?”
I nodded.
“Excellent. And now…”
A sudden flash of pain to the back of my head and I was out again.
Chapter 40
It was still early when I stepped out of the house. I ached everywhere, and the knot on the back of my head was tender, but I couldn’t stay in bed. There was too much to do.
I ran to Jack’s house, letting myself in, quietly making my way through the kitchen into the living room. There he was, asleep on the couch, hugging an empty bottle of whiskey. I leaned close to check on him. His breath reeked of alcohol, but at least there was breath there to reek.
I grabbed a box of pastries from the kitchen and snuck back out of the house, leaving him to sleep off whatever was in his system.
Not wanting to be noticed, I opted for a shortcut through the woods on foot, rather than a drive on the small town’s roads, where my car was far from inconspicuous.
As I broke through the final bit of trees, I found myself standing behind the small brick building across from the church. The rectory.
I knocked on the back door, softly at first. No answer. I looked around, still knocking softly, but without stopping. Finally, the door opened.
Father Mike stood sleepy-eyed in sweatpants and t-shirt, hair standing in all directions. He leaned out of the door, looking around before he grabbed my arm. “Well, get in here. Quick.”
I stepped inside, Father Mike pulling the door shut behind me and locking it.
“Hold on a sec,” he said, putting a finger up as he walked around the house checking windows. He pulled one open curtain shut.
I looked around at the peeling linoleum floor of the kitchen, the chipped countertop, and ancient beige appliances. The living room ahead was no better; brown carpet with a swirled pattern that disguised years of dirt and stains, a plaid couch that sagged in the middle, and an amber-colored lamp on a TV tray.
“Nice place.”
“Don’t lie. This is an extension of the house of God, you know. And I’m pretty sure even he’d say it’s a dump.”
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared at me.
“I brought pastries.” I held up the box and placed it on the counter. “And I can make some coffee.”
“Pot on the stove to boil some water. Sanka’s in the cabinet.”
“Sanka? I didn’t even know that stuff still existed.”
“It does here.”
I wrinkled my nose at the jar of coffee crystals and filled the pot with water.
Father Mike sat on one of the mismatched rusty stools at the counter. “Did I miss something? I thought I said confession in the morning. Not ‘come make me breakfast at the crack of dawn’.”
“It’s not that early. And this is not making you breakfast. I make amazing breakfast, and this is most definitely not it.”
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“See that? With the eyebrow? Creepy priest.”
“Haven’t had my coffee crystals and day old pastry yet. Give me a break.”
I grabbed the only two mugs from the cabinet and gave them a rinse before dumping my usual load of sugar in one cup. I turned towards Father Mike. “How do you take it?”
“Black, lots of sugar.”
I nodded and gave the second mug the same treatment as the first.
“This is all very nice, but are you planning on getting to why you’re here? Not that I mind.”
I paused, coffee mugs in hand.
“What? Still creepy?”
I nodded as I flipped open the box of pastries and pulled a piece off a cheese Danish.
“Well, maybe you could start talking so I can stop putting my foot in my mouth.”
I waited, searching his face for any sign that he already knew what happened. I mostly believed that he wasn’t involved, but I couldn’t help but still wonder. Taking a breath, I went ahead. “The nuns gave me an ultimatum last night. Well, specifically, Sister Marjorie did.”
Mike’s sleepy-eyed look disappeared, his eyes wide. “When was this? Where?”
“They knocked me out with something at Jack’s house. When I came to I was in a room connected to the church. You know
those doors at the bottom of the steps that lead off to the convent?”
He nodded.
“I was down there. I’m sure of it. There are rooms off that corridor and I was in one.”
“You’re positive?”
“When she took me out of the room I had a second to look around. There were steps going up in one direction – I’m pretty sure those lead into the church – and then she led me the other way and we ended up in the room I discovered when I broke into the convent. That’s where they were holding Jack.”
Father Mike rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. “Wait, they were holding Jack?”
“He was unconscious the whole time, far as I can tell. But he’s okay. He was passed out on the couch when I left.”
Mike leaned back a bit, crossing his arms. “What did they have him for?”
“Leverage. They know I know something. Sister Marjorie said that they would leave Jack alone if I back off. I have to stay in town and pretend I don’t know a thing.”
“And you agreed?”
“In word, yeah. But obviously I can’t let this go. I just need to be extra careful now.”
“And that’s why you came here rather than visiting me in confession?”
“It seemed like a better option than going to the church.”
“To visit me, alone.” He paused, blinking. “Here.”
“Well, when you say it like that it doesn’t sound so good. I thought parishioners came to see priests in the rectory?”
“There are office hours for that, in theory, but as you can see, they haven’t exactly set this place up to make that an appealing option.” I frowned. Maybe I wasn’t as smart as I thought. “Hey, it’s okay. Meeting in the church probably wouldn’t have been the best idea, at least not for today. But we need to be able to talk somewhere less suspicious, so we gotta come up with a suitable cover moving forward.”
I walked over to the boiling water and filled the coffee mugs, bringing them to the counter. “Any ideas?”
Father Mike poked at a pastry in front of him and grinned. “Bake sale.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny.”
“No, seriously. The church has a charity bake sale coming up. Joan was signed up to organize, but she’s gone.” He held his arms out in my direction. “Welcome, ‘Widows and Orphans Bake Sale’ Coordinator.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. It’s perfect. Gives you the freedom to roam town, gathering volunteers and such, and you can chat with me anytime. Officially, about baked goods, unofficially, about the nefarious and possibly homicidal deeds of some very scary nuns.”
“Amazing. You can say all that and sound so chipper.”
Father Mike took a sip of his coffee and winked. “You gotta love your work.”
“Winking?”
“Sorry, sorry.” He pushed away from the counter. “I’m going to go get my priestly duds on. You better get the way you came. Breakfast at the diner, tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.” I looked out the window before opening the door. “Hey, Mike?”
He paused and turned my way.
“Be careful. If they’re watching me, they may be watching you, too.”
“I’m always careful.”
I shook my head, stepped outside, and took off for the woods.
Chapter 41
When I came home, I found Jack on the back porch, cleaning one of his rifles. “Hey, you. How are you feeling?”
“My head is killing me.”
I nodded, expecting that answer.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“For?”
“I obviously had one too many. Or, ten too many from the looks of the bottle inside. I can’t remember a thing.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You were too drunk to do or say anything too offensive.”
It was partly true. He didn’t do anything offensive.
“Still. I don’t want you thinking I’d make a habit of that sort of thing.”
I forced a smile, playing along. I didn’t think telling him what really happened was going to help. If he believed me, he might try to go after the nuns, and I really didn’t know what they were capable of at this point. And if he didn’t believe me, well, relationships with crazy people tend to die a quick death, and I was hoping to keep this relationship alive.
“Of course not. Consider it forgotten. What are you up to out here?”
“One of the farmers said he saw a bear on his way into town the other day. Keeping the hunting rifle ready in case.”
“Bears? Really? In these woods?”
He nodded and popped the barrel in place, making me jump. “Where’ve you been this early?”
“I went for a run.”
Jack squinted towards the woods. “Back there?”
“Sure. You know, they say running through rough terrain like that is a really good workout. Of course, that was before you told me there could be a bear running around out there. Now it seems more like practical training.”
“You can’t outrun a bear, James.”
“I guess I need to add ‘tree climbing’ to my morning regimen then.”
“Or we need to teach you to shoot.”
I gave an exaggerated shudder. “No, thanks. I’m not good around guns.”
Jack smiled. “That’s right. I forgot. Well, then, let me put this one up.”
I followed Jack into the house and opened the fridge, checking the contents. “You want some breakfast?”
I drummed my fingers on the door, grabbing a package of bacon and a carton of eggs with my free hand, waiting for an answer. I popped up to see Jack’s face hovering over the other side of the door. He leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the forehead. “Mind if I grab a shower first?”
“Not at all. You stink.”
“Correction. I smell manly.”
“If by manly you mean ‘like whiskey and old socks’, then yes. Very manly. Go shower. I’ll have things ready when you come downstairs.”
I went to work prepping for breakfast, listening for the water to stop running upstairs before putting the eggs on. I was about to go ahead with them, when there was a knock at the front door.
“Can you get that?” Jack yelled downstairs. “I still need to put on some pants.”
I swung open the front door and swallowed.
“Hello, Sisters.”
Two nuns, neither of them Sister Marjorie, stood at the door. I heard Jack coming down the stairs, slowing as he got close to the bottom.
“Come in, Sisters. What can I do for you? Everything’s okay I hope?”
The nuns stepped just inside the door, but didn’t come in any further.
“Everything’s fine, Sheriff. We won’t be long. Making the rounds, visiting the neighbors.” She held out a basket of baked goods. “Wanted to stop by while we were over this way.”
“We didn’t expect to kill two birds with one stone,” added the other nun, looking over at me, “so to speak.”
Jack grabbed the basket I’d neglected to accept. “This is very kind of you. Can you stay for coffee?”
I relaxed as they both shook their head. “Sadly, no. Lots to do.”
The other sister looked at Jack’s wet hair and then over at me. “And we wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.”
I opened the door wide. “Maybe next time.”
Each sister gave me a forced smile as they walked out. I slammed the door behind them and made my way to the kitchen, Jack in tow.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” I didn’t look up as I threw the eggs in the pan.
“You seemed eager to see them leave.”
I pushed at the eggs in the pan, formulating a response.
“They’re just so…so...judgey.”
“‘Judgey’?”
“Yeah, they look at me all Judge-y Judgerson, with their stupid judging.”
Jack leaned forward on the counter, covering his mouth with one hand. I could see
the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle.
“Are you laughing at me?”
Jack cleared his throat, and pulled his mouth into a straight line, moving his hand away. “No, ma’am. ” He added, mumbling, “And I’m certainly not judging you.”
“Oh, shut up and get your plate.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I smiled as he got up and grabbed a dish, piling a healthy amount of bacon on it. “You’re so accommodating.”
“I know where my bread is buttered. Or bacon is fried, I guess.”
I scooped some of the finished eggs on his plate, kissing him on the cheek.
“And don’t you forget it.”
Chapter 42
“What’s this?” Father Mike looked at the blue folder I tossed on the diner table as I slid into the corner booth.
“It’s clearly labeled: Bake Sale.”
“Thanks, I got that.”
I slid further into the booth, positioning myself next to Father Mike, and placed my hand on the folder. “It’s full of details about my ‘new assignment’ so I don’t have to bore everyone in the diner with the details.”
“Very nice, 007. You sure it wasn’t so you could sit closer to me without raising any eyebrows?”
I flared my nostrils and shook my head.
Father Mike laughed. “That one was on purpose. Didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Mornin’ Father, James.” Emma stood in front of the table, smoothing her yellow frock, chewing on her lip. “What can I get ya’ll?”
“Sunshine special for me. And orange juice.”
Emma smiled at me and nodded, then looked at Father Mike, her smile fading. “And you, Father?”
“Same for me, Emma. How are you this morning?”
“I’m okay,” she replied quietly. “I’ll get your order in.”
As she turned to walk away, I kicked Father Mike’s leg under the table.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“That’s your fault you know,” I said, nodding in Emma’s direction.
“What are you talking about?”
“Last time we were in here you were a grump. I think she took it personally.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I speak the truth.”
“I think under the circumstances, I had good reason to be out of sorts.”
