False Witness

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  As nuns, they lived simple lives centered on prayer. But now a vital barrier that allowed them to remain separate—to maintain that single-minded purpose that helped them draw closer to the Divine—had been breached.

  Nuns were only human, and their prayers for an unrepentant world would now be tainted with negative emotions like anger. The inescapable fact that many on the outside didn’t understand or value the importance of what they did had just been brought home to them in a very personal way.

  As Tom came over to greet her, she made up her mind. Today, with God’s help, she’d find someone willing either to take responsibility for fixing their wall, or donate funds for the repairs. That would help everyone at Our Lady of Hope Monastery put the accident behind them.

  Tom Green was a tall man with brown hair that had turned almost white around his temples. His tanned face was weathered, his green eyes filled with the perpetual wariness of one who’d seen too much of the world.

  The sheriff nodded a greeting. “Jack Miller’s on his way over to pick up his stolen vehicle. I checked his whereabouts last night just to make sure it wasn’t him driving. Jack’s got an ironclad alibi. He was at Cottonwood Mall with friends who vouched for him.”

  “Then who did this? Were any fingerprints left behind?” she asked.

  “Nothing on the vehicle or the air bag, but we lifted a clear print from one of those beer cans and got a match. It belongs to Elizabeth Leland, a sixteen-year-old with a record for shoplifting. We also got a partial that matches another teen by the name of Leeann Karon.”

  “Those names sound vaguely familiar….”

  “Elizabeth and Leeann both attended St. Charles at one time, so they may have been students of yours. Didn’t you do substitute teaching there last year?”

  Sister Agatha nodded. “There was a shortage of staff, so Father Rick asked for our help,” she said. She’d taught one or two days at a time whenever needed, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t put a face to the names.

  “You’ll probably recognize the girls when you see them, and you’ll have the chance shortly because Liz refused to talk to us unless you were present. I advised her to get an attorney, but she said she trusts you more.”

  Hearing vehicles, Sister Agatha looked up the road and saw a beat-up heavy-duty truck with oversized tires pull up by the damaged SUV. Just then, another man arrived in a new-looking sedan and parked on the opposite side of the road.

  “That’ll be Jack Miller and his claims adjuster. From what I hear, Jack’s already spoken to Paul Gonzales about the bodywork, so now it’s just a matter of paperwork.”

  Sister Agatha walked over with Tom to greet the new arrivals. A thin man in his late twenties stood by the wrecked SUV, shaking his head and grumbling to himself, while the second, older man in a western suit with a bolo tie walked around the scene, taking photos. Sister Agatha studied the younger man—Miller, apparently—for a moment. He was around five-foot-six and certainly much shorter than whoever had driven the SUV last night. Miller was wearing jeans with a loop for a hammer or tool and a dusty, sleeveless T-shirt, making her suspect he’d come directly from a construction site.

  “I just bought this beauty, Mr. Wade, and now look at it,” Jack Miller moaned. “Will my insurance cover the damage?”

  “It was used when you bought it, Jack, and the deductible is pretty steep. You might be better off selling it for parts and buying a new one,” Wade answered, continuing to take photos.

  “Can’t afford it. If the engine hasn’t been damaged the rest can be repaired little by little. But the insurance has to cover enough to put me back on the road.”

  “You’ll have to deal with an approved mechanic if you intend on keeping it insured.”

  “Paul Gonzales here in town is on your list,” Miller said.

  “I’ll go talk to him, get his estimate, then tell you how much of it I can cover,” Wade said, shaking hands with Miller. Nodding to Sister Agatha and Sheriff Green, he walked back to his car and drove off.

  Miller shook his head once more, then turned to Sheriff Green. “What a day. And it’s just beginning.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Tom said, then introduced them.

  “Sorry about your wall and the gate, Sister, but we both took a hit last night, didn’t we?” Jack muttered.

  She nodded. “Your vehicle will be in good hands with Mr. Gonzales. But I’m concerned about the damage to our property. I assume your liability insurance will cover the damage to our wall?”

  He gave her a startled look. “No way I’m taking responsibility for this, Sister. I’m a victim here, too. Somewhere out there is a car thief. He did this. Don’t blame me, and don’t blame my insurance company. Mr. Wade says that in New Mexico, your insurance company has to pay for the wall damage because I wasn’t at fault.”

  “We’re not a wealthy monastery, Mr. Miller, and our insurance deductible is very high. Would you be willing to make a donation to our repair fund? We would be happy to keep you in our prayers in exchange. And do remember that our Lord always looks kindly on those who help us continue to serve Him.”

  “I can’t afford it, Sister. I’m sorry.” He began hitching the wreck to the pickup with a towing rig. “A lot of the repairs that’ll need to be done to provide me with transportation again will be coming out of my own pocket. I’m strapped right now.” He glanced over at Tom. “But once you find the person who stole my SUV, you can nail his hide to the wall.”

  A few minutes later Sister Agatha watched him drive off. “Whatever happened to charity?”

  “People aren’t in a charitable mood when the system’s about to screw them over. He pays his car insurance, but there’ll be a gap the size of the Grand Canyon between the value the SUV had to him and what the insurance will cough up—unless he sics a lawyer on them. And that could end up costing him more money than it’s worth.”

  “Do you think the girls had anything to do with the car theft? All I know for sure is that the driver was a tall man,” Sister Agatha said.

  “The prints put both girls in that SUV at some point,” Tom said, “and Miller denies knowing either of them.”

  “They’re both underage, and if he gave them beer….”

  “I thought of that and questioned the friends who were with him at the mall, a husband and wife. They backed him up, and assured me that Miller seldom drinks.”

  “Then the girls must have been inside later on, along with the beer,” Sister Agatha nodded.

  “I agree. They have to know something. You want to meet me at the station?”

  “Sure. I’ll go find Pax and follow you in,” she said.

  After saying good-bye to Tom, Sister Agatha went in search of Pax. As she turned the corner of the building she found him playing tug-of-war with Sister Clothilde on the grass. The old knotted piece of rope was his favorite toy, and he usually managed to find a playmate. Sister Clothilde smiled sheepishly at Sister Agatha, then returned to hanging the laundry.

  Sister Clothilde, despite her age, seemed to work harder than anyone else and was still as strong as any twenty-year-old. Playing rough with Pax could knock the wind out of anyone, but she seemed undaunted. Hard physical labor and Sister Clothilde were longtime partners, and her stamina never failed to amaze the community. Maybe it was God’s special gift to her because she’d pleased him with her vow of silence. Sister Clothilde hadn’t spoken a word for more than fifteen years, though she communicated with hand signals and cryptic notes when necessary.

  Sister Agatha looked down at Pax, who sat directly in front of her now, waiting.

  “We’re going into town, Pax,” she said, then added his two favorite words, “Road trip!”

  The dog bounded ahead to where the vehicles were parked, but before they reached the Harley, he slowed down, hackles rising. He took a few more cautious steps forward, then, facing the wall, began to growl low and menacingly. It was the deep-throated sound that belonged to the police dog he’d once been instead of a gent
le monastery pet.

  Sister Agatha followed his gaze, trying to figure out what he’d spotted and where the danger lay.

  As she approached the adobe wall, she saw someone moving behind the junipers that lined the edge of one of the vineyard’s most productive fields. He appeared to be holding something in front of his face, but before she could angle for a better look, he vanished, moving in the opposite direction.

  “Hello?” she called out. The one thing she was absolutely certain about was that it hadn’t been Eric. The person she’d seen had been too tall. She waited for another minute, hoping the person, maybe an employee, would return. But no one came.

  She knew he hadn’t been one of the homeless people who occasionally passed through. He’d been too well dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks instead of jeans and a heavy shirt or jacket. But the man hadn’t answered when she’d called and that bothered her. He’d heard her, she was sure of it.

  As she glanced down at Pax, she noticed that his hackles weren’t raised anymore, though he was still watching. “We’ll check into this later, Pax,” she said firmly. “For now, we’re expected at the police station.”

  The dog’s tail began to wag furiously.

  “Yeah, I know. Your old stomping ground. Let’s go.” She pointed to the candy-apple-red 1986 Classic Heritage Harley. It was a collector’s piece and worth a small fortune, but Paul Gonzales had insisted that they take it as a donation. Now that Paul had a teenaged son, he hadn’t wanted the cycle around to tempt his kid. It had taken some fancy footwork—high-style tap dancing, actually—to convince Reverend Mother to let her accept it. But the cycle, complete with sidecar, was reliable, cheap transportation, and had proven to be a blessing to the monastery.

  Everyone in the area knew her and Pax by now, and most waved as she passed by. The town of Bernalillo was small, and after a drive down Camino Real, which ran through the old downtown and had once been the main highway, she reached the station.

  Tom Green was waiting for them in the lobby, having undoubtedly heard the bike’s distinctive V-twin engine when it entered the parking lot. “I was beginning to worry. What took you so long?”

  She told him what had happened. “I think the person had binoculars…. I’m not at all sure of that, mind you, but I’ve been thinking about the position of his hands and it makes sense in that context. I’ll talk to Eric later, find out what’s going on, and remind him that Pax is very possessive of our grounds.”

  “Maybe it was an investor looking to buy the place, or one of the Realtors. They sometimes use binoculars because it saves them walking,” Tom said.

  “The thought of heavy equipment, dust, and months of construction sets my teeth on edge. And what if they put up apartments? I just hope we can convince the owner to give us some kind of sound barrier or buffer zone. I’m supposed to meet with him to discuss it,” Sister Agatha said.

  “I’m sure you and Reverend Mother will be able to work something out with him,” Tom said. “But right now you and I need to get started.”

  He led her down the hall to one of the interview rooms. “I left Elizabeth in there alone to give her something to worry about,” he said, looking through the one-way glass at the teen, who was shifting in her seat and looking away from the mirror. “Hopefully, she’ll be more amenable to playing it straight now.”

  Suddenly aware Pax was not by her side, Sister Agatha glanced down the hall. The dog had found his way into the bullpen, where he was being fed a doughnut by one of the deputies. She sighed. “He’s such a mooch.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine. You ready to go talk to Elizabeth?”

  “After you,” she said, gesturing to the door.

  3

  AS THEY STEPPED INSIDE THE ROOM AND ELIZABETH Leland turned to face them, Sister Agatha recognized her instantly. Liz, as she liked to be called, was a petite brunette with thick, straight hair down to her waist. She was wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt with dark blue letters that read, I SURVIVED CATHOLIC SCHOOL.

  Liz’s face brightened instantly when she saw Sister Agatha. “Do you remember me, Sister?”

  “Sure I do. You’re a student at St. Charles.” “Not anymore. Since my dad split I had to switch to public school,” she said, her shoulders slumping and her voice heavy.

  Sister Agatha sat across the table from her. “Liz, what’s going on? Why did you want me to be here?”

  “You were never too busy to talk and I’ve never forgotten how you helped me pass my English final. You cared about all of us, Sister.”

  “I still do. That’s why I came. If you need to work something out with us….”

  Tom cleared his throat. “Liz, whatever you say is on the record, and may be used against you in court.”

  Liz shot Tom a look as cold as a January dawn. “I’m not guilty of anything! Stop trying to pin everything on me,” she said, her voice rising with every word.

  “Calm down, Liz,” Sister Agatha said in her best teacher’s voice. “Sheriff Green is required to say that in order to protect your rights. Your prints were found on one of the beer cans inside the sport utility vehicle that crashed through our gate last night.”

  “That’s what he keeps saying, but it’s all so crazy! Sister, I was never inside that SUV, much less drinking. I swear. I hate beer. It tastes gross.”

  “Liz, I’ve heard that you’re affiliated with one of the local gangs—the Diablos Locos,” Tom said, capturing her gaze and holding it. “Tell me about that.”

  “I don’t belong to any gang!” She looked at Sister Agatha. “See? They want me to admit to something—anything—just because I don’t have a lawyer. But Mom can’t afford one, and the free public defenders … I heard about them. They want you to cut a deal ’cause they’re overloaded with clients.”

  Tom continued to press. “Come on, Liz, you’ve been seen hanging out with the Diablos. Kids don’t do that unless they’re wannabes or already ranked in.”

  Liz hesitated and glanced at Sister Agatha nervously. “Everything at public school is so different, but I’m not in a gang. Sure they’ve pressured me to hang out with them, and I even considered joining for a while. But then …” She stared intensely at her hands, trying to ignore everything else in the room, especially the sheriff.

  “Go on, Liz,” Sister Agatha said gently.

  “Dad’s always making excuses for not sending child support checks, so we barely have enough to get by. Mom has to work two jobs just to make the rent. She’s always tired and in a lousy mood.”

  Sister Agatha nodded slowly. The story was all too familiar.

  “Not that we ever talked much anyway,” Liz continued. “We haven’t gotten along for years, but things got worse after Dad took off. I wanted to get back at her, so I did a lot of crazy things—like hanging with the Diablos. But one day I heard her talking to my aunt and crying. Mom’s just scared … like me,” she said with a soft sigh. “I stopped hanging out with the Diablos after that.”

  “That must not have been easy,” Sister Agatha said. “Changing your life around.”

  “No, it wasn’t, but I’m working hard to get into college next year. I know I’ll need a scholarship and that’ll take good grades, so I have to bring my GPA back up to where it was.” She looked at Sister Agatha squarely. “That’s why I’d never do something totally dumb like stealing a car, Sister. It would be like throwing away all the work I’ve done this semester. You’ve always been able to tell when somebody’s lying. Can’t you see I’m telling the truth?”

  Before she could respond, Tom leaned forward. “Terrific story, Liz, but the fact is that your prints were on a beer can we found on the floor of the SUV. If you didn’t crash into the monastery’s gates, who did? You must know who the driver was. You were in that vehicle earlier in the evening.”

  “No, I wasn’t! That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Sheriff,” she said, her voice rising in pitch. “I spent last night at Leeann’s house.” She looked back at Sister Agatha.
“You remember Leeann? She and I have been friends forever.”

  Sister Agatha nodded, her thoughts racing. She knew that Liz wasn’t tall enough to have driven the SUV with the seat pushed back as far as it had been, and neither was Leeann. She remembered the girl now.

  “Leeann is being interviewed elsewhere right now. We found a print that belongs to her, too,” Tom said, glancing at Sister Agatha, then back at Liz, his eyes as flat as his voice. “Leeann’s mother fell asleep early, so you two could have left the house later….”

  “But we didn’t! And you can’t prove we were in that car, because we weren’t. Not anywhere near it, either.”

  “Then how do you explain your prints on those beer cans the sheriff found, Liz?” Sister Agatha said. “Or Leeann’s, who you just happened to be with last night.” Sister Agatha gave her a steady look, then in a softer voice added, “Liz, you’re in a world of trouble and it sure looks like you’re trying to cover for someone.”

  “I’m not! I don’t know who the driver was because Leeann and I were nowhere near that SUV!” Tears ran down her cheeks freely now. “Why won’t you believe me?”

  “How about taking a polygraph?” Tom asked. “Lie detector.”

  Liz hesitated, her eyes widening, then, wiping away her tears with one hand, nodded. “Okay, but only if you promise to keep it to two questions. You can ask me if I was ever in that SUV and if I know who stole it.”

  “All right.” Tom gestured for Sister Agatha to follow him outside and closed the door behind him.

  He then led Sister Agatha farther down the hall, and stopped in front of another interview room. “I’ve got Leeann in here with Sergeant Banks. Both mothers are waiting in the lunchroom. We’ve kept it informal and, so far, the girls’ stories match up. They had a sleepover, listened to music, played some games on a computer, then went to sleep. But they’re both holding something back.”

  “Agreed. The fact that Liz was willing to take a polygraph shows she’s not lying, but the way she put a limit on what you could ask cinches it. She knows more than she admits. Have you spoken to Liz’s mom yet?”