Bad Samaritan

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Amateur killers make mistakes,” she suggested, unconvinced.

  Sister Agatha brought Pax back into the bedroom, her mind in a whirl as she weighed the possibility that Mike and Victoria had conspired to kill Robert. A few seconds later, the lights went out and the house became silent once more.

  Ten minutes went by; then the phone in her pocket started vibrating. She picked it up immediately.

  “Frank here. Al Russo’s almost at the gates. Stay awake and alert.”

  “No problem. I have enough adrenaline in my system right now to keep me awake for years.”

  She heard a chuckle from down the hall. Then it was quiet again, except for the sound of a breeze picking up outside.

  Pax cocked his head and looked at her.

  “Just the wind, boy,” she whispered, scratching him behind the ears. “Hang in there.”

  Minutes later, she felt the phone vibrating again. There was a slight rush of air in the tightly sealed room as an outside door was opened, then closed. She put the phone up to her ear.

  “Russo came in through the back door. He had his own key.”

  “I’m ready,” Sister Agatha said.

  “Stay on the line this time.”

  Sister Agatha and Pax slipped into the corner just behind the half-opened door leading into the hall. Beside her was the life-sized cardboard cutout of the baseball player.

  Marquez would monitor Al’s location, but Sister Agatha was sure that things would be decided here in this bedroom. She heard distant footsteps, like before.

  “Up the stairs,” Frank whispered.

  “He’s coming for his son—and that baseball roster,” she whispered back.

  “If it’s still there,” he answered.

  “Don’t worry, Al will find it for us,” she assured him. The footsteps were getting closer, so she froze, silent, and grabbed Pax’s collar tightly.

  Al came into the room a few seconds later. Without hesitation he went to the far right-hand corner of the room, directly opposite where she and Pax were standing, and moved the baseball mitt from the corner of the shelf. Behind it was a box. He moved that as well, then reached upward. She heard him curse as he struggled to get at something by feel alone.

  Her nose itched, but she dared not move, knowing that if he looked up, he’d see two standing figures—and a dog.

  Finally, with a muted groan, he extracted a piece of paper from the hiding place. Then, almost as an afterthought, he took the baseball that was nestled in the glove and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

  Moving silently, he stepped over to the bed. “Hey, kiddo, I’ve got your Mitch the Missile personally autographed program and your team-autographed ball. What do you say we hit the road?” He reached down to shake the boy awake, then realized something was wrong.

  “Crap!” he said, after tossing back the covers.

  Sister Agatha stepped around the door and switched on the lights, letting Pax move closer to Al. The dog growled, standing tall.

  “You made that hiding place for him, Al, didn’t you?” she asked softly.

  Blinking from the sudden brightness, he stared at her for a second, then looked back at the empty bed.

  Before he could answer, Marquez came in and took the paper from Russo’s hand, then placed it on the dresser.

  “Al Russo, you’re under arrest for the murder of Robert Garcia. Turn around and place your hands on the wall.”

  After Frank frisked him and applied the handcuffs, Al turned his head and looked at Sister Agatha. “Where’s my kid?” he asked. “He is mine, Sister Agatha—but you already knew that, didn’t you?” he added, studying her expression.

  “Yes. I was also close by when you gave him the autographed Isotopes roster and told him to put it in his special place.”

  “Robert was a real sicko. He loved playing head games with RJ—a kid—is that pathetic, or what? He’d hide RJ’s favorite toy, making him come begging for it. He never hit RJ, but there are other ways to damage a child. The kid’s so mixed up, even his mom can’t control him half the time. You’ve seen him acting out.”

  “Proving that the victim was disturbed may work to your advantage in court, but you’re still going to face a jury,” Marquez said.

  “I can live with that. But what about my kid? What’ll happen to RJ?”

  “In my gut I know that Victoria saw you that night and knows you shot Robert,” Marquez said, “but I can’t prove conspiracy, so she’ll be released. Robert Jr. will remain in her custody.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Sister Agatha assured Al.

  “Yeah, now that I’ve done what needed to be done.” There was no satisfaction in his voice, just a weary acceptance.

  Al had acted to protect his child, and a heart that was still able to love wasn’t unredeemable. As Sister Agatha watched him being led away, she whispered a prayer for him.

  “I can’t help him, Lord, but I know You can. He’s in Your gentle hands now. Show him the way back.”

  The following morning at the sheriff’s station, Sister Agatha finished giving and signing her statement. She was on her way to say a final good-bye to Tom Green when he came out of his office to meet her.

  “Russo’s given us all we need, including the boot that left that unexplained footprint. We also got his recipe for hot dog relish,” he added.

  Sister Agatha smiled. “What about you? Are you back on the job?”

  “Yeah, I sure am,” he said. “Thanks . . . it doesn’t seem enough.”

  “It is. I’m glad I was able to help.”

  “You did more for me than you realize, Sister Agatha. Gloria and I had a very long talk, and we’ll be going to counseling for as long as it takes. We really do love each other, you know.”

  She smiled and hugged him. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. God bless you both.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m going back to the monastery to say a final good-bye. Then Pax and I will be on our way.”

  “No more Our Lady of Hope Monastery?”

  “God’s called us to serve elsewhere,” she answered. “It’s our duty to follow.”

  “I’ll miss you—and Pax.”

  “I’ll miss everyone here, too,” she said, trying not to cry.

  “Stay in touch,” he said, bending down to pet Pax and looking up at her.

  “I will, and I’ll send you photos of our new home as soon as I can.”

  Sister Agatha went outside and, as she looked back at the station, wiped a tear from her eye. It was time for a new beginning.

  “Let’s go, Pax. The Lord’s waiting to welcome us to our new home.”