by Aimée Thurlo
Sister Agatha had her answer—and a measure of Victoria’s desperation. What she needed to get now was Victoria’s cooperation.
“What happened the night of the Fourth in the park? Someone saw you at the scene of the crime wearing one of the red campaign caps,” she said, adding credibility to what was just a bluff. Scout wouldn’t testify, even if she could find him again.
“I didn’t drug either man, if that’s what you’re really asking me,” Victoria shot back. “I didn’t shoot my husband, either. I ended up there because I was following someone else, and when I left to go check on RJ, my husband was still alive and on his feet.”
“You were at the crime scene long enough to see someone else—Al,” Sister Agatha pressed. “A witness has come forward.”
Victoria took a long, deep breath but didn’t answer right away. Sister Agatha knew that her mind was working overtime, wondering what to say next, or, more to the point, what not to say.
“I don’t believe you killed Robert, Victoria, but you know who did. If you don’t come forward, an innocent man could end up in jail for a very long time.”
Victoria shook her head. “You’re wrong. Sheriff Tom Green has a lot of friends in this town. I read the papers and have heard enough to know he was drugged, too. That’s a matter of record. Coupled with his long history of public service and a good attorney, he’ll get off,” she said firmly. “By trying to pin this on either me or Al—and we’re not guilty—all you’ll be doing is ruining a child’s life. My son’s.”
“Tell the police what you saw that day, Victoria. If you withhold information in a murder case, sooner or later you’ll find yourself facing charges. Your son needs you more than ever now. How much are you willing to risk?”
“I saw nothing that can help the police.”
“I know you were there, and the police will soon reach that same conclusion. I came to offer you some hope and give you the opportunity to come forward on your own terms. Robert Jr. doesn’t have to be brought into this.” Seeing the stubborn set of Victoria’s jaw, Sister Agatha continued. “Once the police establish your presence at the scene, you’ll move to the top of their suspect list—if you’re not there already. Seven figures of life insurance is a very good motive.”
Her eyes widened. “I did not kill him, Sister Agatha, but stupid accusations like those can do a lot of damage to me and my son. I’ve paid my dues for years, and RJ and I deserve the chance to make a new start.”
“Then make a new start. Settle the past. This is your chance,” Sister Agatha said.
Victoria walked to the window. By the time she turned to answer Sister Agatha, her expression had changed from anger to cold calculation. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she spoke. “Robert taught me that the best kind of deal is one where everyone comes out ahead. With that in mind, I’ve got a proposition for you, Sister Agatha. The insurance check I’ll be getting soon will set me up for life—with plenty left over. If you’ll stop making waves—just go home and mind your own business—I can turn things around for you. I know that the monastery is about to close down from lack of funds. You now have it in your power to save the home you love. What do you say?”
For a moment Sister Agatha couldn’t find her voice. Had she not been wearing a wire, would she have accepted the offer? She would have liked to think that she would have taken the high road and declined, but deep down she wasn’t so sure. “I can’t . . .”
Victoria waited, then, when Sister Agatha said nothing more, shrugged. “You had your chance, Sister. I certainly hope you can live with the choice you made.” She remained silent for several seconds before she added, in a voice that held the echoes of fear and desperation, “I stayed with Robert because I had to, but let me be clear about something. My husband would have killed me one day. Of that, I’m sure.” She reached into her purse and brought out a small tape recorder. After checking that her son was still outside with Pax, she returned to the couch. “I want you to listen to something.”
Victoria switched on the player, and the first thing Sister Agatha heard was a loud crash. It sounded like wooden furniture being slammed into something and then splintering. That was followed by another resounding crash, then soft whimpers. Robert’s voice came through loud and clear as he brought name calling to a new low. Although the insults were in Spanish, they were easily recognizable to anyone who’d lived in New Mexico for as long as Sister Agatha had.
Sister Agatha heard a slap, then a moan followed by a gurgling sound. “If I squeezed your throat just a little tighter . . .” she heard a man say.
Gasps, shallow coughs, and a desperate wheeze that tore at her heart followed.
“Robert, stop!” a faint but recognizable voice cried out.
Suddenly there was a loud thud and a man’s deep groan. That was immediately followed by running footsteps. “Leave me alone,” Victoria screamed, then a door slammed shut.
Robert retched, then cleared his throat. His voice came through next as a whisper, and the coldness of it made a chill run up Sister Agatha’s spine. “You’re bought and paid for, puta. Your life is mine, and you’ll pay a thousand times over for what you’ve done.”
As the tape ended, Sister Agatha looked at Victoria in shock. “Al is RJ’s dad, and Robert knew.”
“Yes and no. There’s more to the story.” Victoria took a shaky breath, then continued in a slow, weary voice. “Robert was injured in college, playing rugby or some dumb thing, and doctors told him that he’d never father a child. I always thought we’d adopt, but after we got married Robert decided he didn’t want to do that. He said he didn’t want someone else’s cast-off kid.”
Sister Agatha’s heart went out to her. A woman who wanted to have a child yet couldn’t . . . for whatever the reason. She could understand that particular form of anguish far better than most.
“That’s why I . . . went to Al,” Victoria said in a whisper-thin voice. “Once I got pregnant I figured I’d tell Robert that a miracle had happened and that he and I were going to have a baby. Knowing him and his ego, I was sure he’d want to believe that, and wouldn’t question it so long as I remained by his side.”
“But things didn’t go as you’d planned,” Sister Agatha prodded after Victoria had been silent for some moments.
Victoria nodded. “Once the baby was born, I figured I was safe. No matter what, I knew Robert would never admit that the child wasn’t his. My baby would be raised as a Garcia—with all the advantages that come along with that. For a while, everything worked out, too, but when other health concerns came up, and Robert got tested, he knew—and he was furious. He thought I’d gone to a sperm bank, so I let him go right on believing that. I even took a page from his own playbook and bribed a few people to back up that story.”
“What you did . . . having your own child . . . cost you more than you ever realized,” Sister Agatha said.
“Yes, but I don’t regret it, not for an instant. RJ means everything to me—and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him.” She met Sister Agatha’s gaze and held it. “Reconsider my offer, Sister. You’ll come out ahead, and no one, especially RJ, will be harmed.”
Shaken to the core by the tape and uncertain what to do next, Sister Agatha stood. “Let me speak to Reverend Mother. I’ll come back later.”
“If I’m not here, I’m at 105 Chamisa Lane, the house with the lion sculpture on the front lawn.”
Sister Agatha gathered up Pax and walked back to the motorcycle. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she placed a trembling hand on the dog and waited before switching on the ignition. The feel of Pax’s muscled and toned body beneath her palm steadied her. “I wish we could go home, Pax, but we have other business to attend to first,” she said quietly.
She was well away from the neighborhood when she finally pulled over to the side of the road and called Detective Marquez. “I assume you heard all that, including the recording Victoria played for me.”
“Yeah, but we still don’t have enough solid e
vidence to arrest Russo,” Frank replied.
“She won’t implicate Al, so let’s see what we can work out from the other direction.”
“You want to put some pressure on Al next?”
“Yeah, I do. How about sending out a deputy to pick up Victoria and have her brought in for questioning. Then make sure Al sees her being brought in.”
“I’m following you. I’ll tell him that Victoria’s being arrested for the murder of her husband. Then we’ll see how things play out,” he said.
“Once he’s released, I’ll push his buttons. I’ll mention the missing piece of evidence—that autographed Isotopes roster. If he gave it to RJ, he’s sure to want to get it back pronto. I think he already knows where RJ keeps it,” she added, remembering the conversation the day of the funeral.
“Works for me. Prod him some more by pretending to let it slip that we’ll be doing a full house search tomorrow for anything that might connect Victoria to the murder.”
“He might try to go around us directly to the source, so we’ll also need to make sure he can’t reach RJ,” Sister Agatha said. “How about if I tell him that RJ’s spending time with his aunt since the Realtors will be at the house this afternoon? I’ll say that with his mother in jail, Alyssa took RJ on an outing, but they’ll be back later this evening, and she’ll be spending the night with him at the house. My guess is that, knowing Alyssa’s penchant for sleeping pills, he’ll feel it’s safe for him to enter the house tonight under the cover of night. If you plant cameras in critical areas and have someone tail Al, you’ll get your evidence.”
“Sounds good. One more thing. I could cut you some slack and give you time to take advantage of the deal Victoria offered you. If she signs a promissory note, that money—”
“Is still not ours,” Sister Agatha said firmly. “I don’t even have to ask Reverend Mother. I already know what her response would be. God provides for us. If we look away from Him and start looking to ourselves for answers, we’ve already lost a far bigger battle than the one before us right now.”
“I understand. Okay, then, I’ll get busy. Where will you go after speaking to Al, Sister?”
“Home to spend some time in prayer. I need to prepare for the battle ahead. After that, if it’s okay with you, I’ll head to Victoria’s and make myself comfortable in the little boy’s bedroom.”
“No problem. I’ll be there by the time you arrive. Use the back door. The boy’s room will have been properly staged by then, too. All that Al’s going to find under those covers is pillows.”
“Al will look, too. I’ve seen how close he is to RJ. I’m sure he’ll want to take his son with him when he makes a run for it.”
At the station some time later, Sister Agatha waited in the parking lot until she saw Al coming out the entrance.
“Mr. Russo,” she said, going over to meet him. “I know about Victoria’s arrest. I was there when the deputies came. They were looking for an autographed baseball roster they think might be important. I don’t think they found it, but they did take her into custody. Did you get a chance to see her? How’s she doing?”
“They brought her in a while ago, but we never got a chance to talk,” he said. “Tell me, Sister, do you know what happened to RJ? I’m really worried about him now that his support system is breaking down.”
“Don’t worry. For now he’s fine. Alyssa took him to an Albuquerque park so he’ll be out of the way of the Realtors who are coming by the house this afternoon. Later tonight, they’ll be back. With all the changes around him, they felt it’s important for RJ to sleep in his own bed, so Alyssa will be spending the night there with him. I also understand that she plans to apply for custody of RJ if Victoria goes to trial. JD and Alyssa are very fond of RJ.”
“If you say so, Sister,” he said, his voice hard.
“Of course, we still don’t know if Victoria’s going to trial, and even if she does, it’s still way too early to know if she’ll be convicted. Either way, I’m sure RJ will be fine. The Garcias take care of their own,” she said. “This isn’t your problem, though. You have to find a new job now that your boss is with his maker.”
“Yeah. My future’s at hand, and it’s time for me to start making some plans. Thanks for the information, Sister. Have a pleasant evening.”
Wondering which car contained the deputies who were tailing him, Sister Agatha watched as Al drove off. Shortly thereafter she was on her way back to the monastery. If there was ever a time that begged for prayer and help from above, it was now.
By the time the sun had set, Sister Agatha was back in town. Marquez’s deputies, working in teams, had kept Russo under surveillance, and everything was running on schedule.
Sister Agatha parked the Harley along the bosque on the ditch road a quarter mile from Victoria’s house; then she and Pax walked over. As they reached the door, it opened. Marquez stood just out of view.
“Glad you remembered to keep the Harley out of sight. We’re all set up here. We’ve got cameras hooked up in several places, including the boy’s bedroom,” he said. “Let’s just hope Russo comes tonight. This is a very expensive operation, and we even had to borrow a few low-light cameras from the Feds in Albuquerque.”
“Where’s Russo now?”
“My deputies said he’s still at his house.”
“He’ll come,” Sister Agatha said. “And RJ, is he okay?”
“He’s staying at a private residence under the care of a court-appointed psychologist and a caseworker. As soon as we release his mother, they’ll be reunited.”
“Have you already searched this house?” she asked.
“We looked but didn’t find the baseball roster. We had to back off in case Russo decided to come here in a hurry. Don’t worry—if there’s anything in there, we’ll find it later.”
Sister Agatha, Pax at her side, soon made herself comfortable in RJ’s bedroom. The bump underneath the covers was nothing more than pillows.
No matter what other plans Al had made, she knew in her heart that he would stop by here tonight. He wouldn’t leave town without his son.
She was busy praying the rosary an hour later when the phone at her waist vibrated. She answered in a whisper-soft voice and heard Marquez at the other end.
“Somebody came in the back door. There was a key we didn’t know about under a brick in the patio.”
“Russo?”
“No, not unless he managed to elude my deputies,” Marquez whispered. “Stay put.”
She listened, trying to stand absolutely still and keep Pax calm. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure its crazy thumping could be heard miles away.
Finally she saw a spot of light, from a penlight, probably, farther down the hall. The light came closer, then vanished as a door somewhere close by opened noisily. Its sound was different, not like one of the bedroom doors. She heard a faint scrape from within the wall somewhere, then a metallic thunk.
“Yes!” she heard the person whisper loudly.
It was then she realized that RJ must have hidden the roster outside his room in the hall closet, and whoever that was had it now.
She inched toward the doorway, keeping a firm hand on the dog’s collar, hoping to sneak a peek. Suddenly a hall light came on.
“Don’t move!” Marquez ordered. “Set the gun down—very slowly.”
“We’re coming out, Frank,” Sister Agatha called, not wanting to get shot by mistake. Pausing for a second, she stepped into the hall, Pax at heel. Seeing the scene before him, the dog stiffened and growled low and deep.
In the doorway of the bedroom across the hall, Frank kept his weapon trained on Mike’s chest.
Mike Herrera looked over at her as he gently set a pistol down onto the carpet.
“This is unexpected,” Sister Agatha said, surprised.
“It isn’t what you think, either,” Mike replied, standing slowly, then turning to put his hands on the wall and “assuming the position.”
“You’ve don
e this before,” Frank observed wryly. “You have any other weapons, Herrera?”
“A pocketknife. In my right front pocket. I can reach for it, if you want,” Mike replied. “What are you two doing here?”
“Sister, have the dog guard him, please?” Frank said, ignoring the question.
“Pax, guard!” she ordered, letting go of his collar.
Still growling, Pax walked over to within three feet of Herrera and sat, his mouth open to show his weaponry in full gleam.
Marquez quickly frisked Herrera, then handcuffed him. By then a deputy had appeared.
“I just wanted to retrieve the pistol I loaned Victoria a few months ago.” Mike turned his head toward Sister Agatha. “Okay, so I lied about getting rid of it, but she needed the protection. When I heard she got arrested, I came to get it back before the deputies searched the house. If they found it here, they’d think for sure that she killed Robert, but she didn’t.”
“Because you did?” Frank countered.
“No way, man—and you can’t prove that, ’cause it never happened.”
“Get him out of here—use the back door,” Frank ordered the deputy. “We might have another visitor to deal with tonight.”
As the officer led Herrera away, Frank picked up the pistol by inserting a pen through the trigger guard, behind the trigger itself. He looked at the weapon closely, emptied the cartridges, checked the safety, then slipped it into an evidence bag.
Feeling the phone at his belt vibrate, he picked it up, said a few curt words, then looked over at her. “Russo’s on his way here. I better turn off the lights again. Hurry and get back in place.”
“Do you think we’ve been wrong all along and Victoria was the one who killed Robert?” she asked from the bedroom doorway.
“Russo’s still a wild card, but Victoria’s our number one suspect right now. This isn’t the murder weapon—but this gun proves she’s been lying. She claims she never handled a pistol before, but her fingerprints on this will prove otherwise. What I can’t figure out is why she’d keep this pistol around knowing it could help send her to prison.”
