False Witness

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “I want you to look at the spray-painted drawings inside. See if you agree with me that we’re dealing with the same artist.”

  “Has the sheriff’s deputy already finished?” she asked. “I didn’t see a vehicle in the lot.”

  Merilee nodded. “He took photos, our statement, then left.”

  Sister Agatha followed her into the warehouse. On the inside of the closed doors someone had spray painted a figure that resembled a kid peering over a wall.

  “It’s the same drawing,” Sister Agatha said with a nod. “Just on a bigger scale.”

  Taunts like FRY YOUR MOTHERBOARDS had also been spray painted everywhere—on packing crates, the walls, and even the concrete floor.

  “It looks like the person responsible has a grudge against NexCen, not the monastery,” Sister Agatha added.

  “Maybe so,” Merilee agreed. “The e-mails you get pass through our Web page, and this warehouse has the same zip code as the post office box NexCen uses for its orders.”

  The news and the possibilities it opened changed everything. She’d have to reevaluate her theories now. If the network problems had been caused by someone with a grudge against NexCen, then they were dealing with two separate sets of people. One person was clearly out to harass the monastery, and had been watching them with binoculars. The other was focusing its hatred on the company, and their scriptorium was just caught in the middle.

  Sister Agatha left the warehouse with more questions than when she’d arrived. She thought of going back home, but everyone at the monastery was depending on her to find answers.

  She needed to figure out what to do next, but no ideas came to her. Sister Agatha pulled off the road into a rest area, suddenly aware that she’d forgotten to do the most important thing of all. Bowing her head, she prayed with all her heart. “Lord, I’m so sorry. I did it again. I know You don’t go where You’re not invited, and here I was thinking that I could do something without You. Show me what I have to do, where I should go.”

  As she finished her prayer and looked over, she saw Pax sitting up, looking at her expectantly. She reached out and stroked his massive neck.

  Sister Agatha noted the rapidly gathering clouds and felt the wind rising ever so slightly. They’d have a storm later today for sure. Seeing a piece of trash blowing past her and into the adjacent field, she glanced at it absently. The torn newspaper page had a photo of one of the local public high schools. Slowly an idea formed in her mind.

  “I’ve got it, Pax. Let’s go to St. Charles,” she said, speaking of the local parochial school. “Maybe we can find out something helpful about Liz and her family. And while we’re there, I’ll ask around and see if anyone on staff remembers Jimmy Garza or fell victim to him. Our town is small, so there’s a good chance we might get lucky.”

  Whispering a prayer of thanks, she drove north into Bernalillo. The school parking lot was almost empty by the time she got there, suggesting that the students and most of the staff were gone for the day. Sister Agatha parked in a visitor’s space, then walked to the office with Pax at her side. Mary Wagner, the younger of the two school secretaries, looked up from her desk and smiled as they walked in.

  “Hey, Sister Agatha! It’s good to see you and Pax. What can I do for you today?”

  “I was hoping to use the school administration’s computer to get some information on a former student—Elizabeth Leland.”

  “You’re on our substitute staff, so you’re authorized, but you won’t be able to print out any of her records, of course,” she said, then added, “But isn’t Liz in public school now?”

  Sister Agatha nodded. “Liz is in a bit of trouble, and I need some information.”

  “Then go for it,” she said.

  Sister Agatha read Liz’s file, but there was nothing there that she didn’t already know. “I guess I struck out.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Kasey Gordon, our librarian.

  The students got out early today because of a teacher conference in Albuquerque, but she’s still around. Liz worked as her student aide for a semester, I think.”

  Sister Agatha walked down the hall to the library, now labeled the “media” center, and went in. The blinds were closed, and the only light came from the fixtures and through a half-opened window. A young woman barely out of her twenties was shelving books from a wheeled cart, unaware that she had company. Sister Agatha cleared her throat, and the woman jumped and spun around.

  “Sister, I didn’t hear you come in!” she said with an embarrassed smile.

  “I’m Sister Agatha,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Mrs. Gordon—Kasey. I recognized you the instant I saw your dog. You’re practically a legend around here.” She gestured toward her office, a room within the library. “Can I get something for you to drink? I’ve got some soft drinks in there today, with the children gone.”

  Sister Agatha shook her head. “I just wanted to talk to you for a few moments about Liz Leland.”

  “Liz is attending public school now, and I can tell you that I was sure sorry to see her go. She’s one of those kids who’s poised on a fence and can go either direction. I think she would have had a better chance of staying out of trouble if she’d remained at St. Charles. But it wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Liz still comes by to visit from time to time though.”

  “She got under your skin, did she?” Sister Agatha observed.

  “Yeah, she did, mostly because I’ve been in her shoes. My parents lost all their savings in a land-fraud deal a con man ran a few years back. All of a sudden my college fund was gone. I ended up living at home, working part-time, and taking night classes.”

  The mention of a land fraud scam got Sister Agatha’s immediate attention. “Your parents didn’t get caught up in that scheme run by James Garza, did they?”

  Kasey nodded. “You remember? So many families around here lost everything. Garza and his cronies literally got away with murder.” Kasey led Sister Agatha to a low desk that held a sign reading CHECK OUT MATERIALS HERE. On the desk was a small computer terminal, which the librarian quickly accessed. “I’ve kept a personal folder filled with links to articles about him—like a scrapbook—so I don’t ever forget how he almost wiped out my future. Garza broke out of jail, and they never caught him. But I intend to remember the man. If he ever comes back, I’ll know him and I’ll have the cops down on him in a flash. I’d love to see that man in prison where he belongs.”

  Judging from the number at the bottom of the file, Sister Agatha could see it was several pages long. “It may take me some time to get through this but I’d like to see it. Would you mind?”

  “I have to go meet a potential guest speaker for my students, but you can stay and take as much time as you want. When you finish, exit back to the main screen and leave the terminal on. Also, be sure to ask the custodian to lock up this office and the media center. She’s around somewhere, cleaning rooms.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “I’ll catch you later, Sister,” she said, walking to the main door, and turning off all the library lights except the one above the desk. “Do you mind, Sister? We’re trying to save on the electric bill.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Kasey waved, pulled the library door shut, then disappeared. Sister Agatha got down to work right away. Finding a grainy press photo of James Garza, she zoomed in and cleaned up the distortion created by the newsprint as much as she could.

  Studying the results moments later, she noted that Garza was a dark-haired, handsome man. He looked the part of the quintessential con artist. Although it was impossible for her to make a positive ID from the photo, there were similarities between Gutierrez and Garza, particularly the scarred face that bore evidence of a harsh life. To be fair, however, Garza also bore some resemblance to Ralph, particularly around his eyes, but the similarity between those two ended there.

  Sister Agatha leaned back in her chair and looked up, hearing a thunderstorm brewing outside. With al
l but one of the blinds completely lowered and only one of the room lights on, it was now darker in the library than outside. As a strong gust of wind blew across the desk, rattling the window blinds, Sister Agatha dove forward to catch the papers before they ended up on the floor. After securing everything, she ran to close the window, then lowered the last blind before returning to the desk.

  Except for the intermittent rumbling of thunder, the school was eerily silent. Then, inexplicably, she heard a door click shut, followed by shuffling footsteps inside the library. Pax’s hackles rose and he began to growl—a low, menacing sound that left her covered with goosebumps.

  Gathering her courage, Sister Agatha peered across the large room toward the main door. “Who’s there?” she called out, but there was no answer. Then the remaining light went off, plunging the library into darkness.

  15

  THE ONLY LIGHT INSIDE THE LIBRARY NOW WAS WHAT managed to filter in from around the edges of the blinds. It made for a muted, dim glow that barely revealed the location of the tall bookshelves.

  “I think you should know that I have a very large dog with me—one who’s attack-trained. What you’re doing is not only foolish—it’s suicidal.”

  Pax growling intensified, sparked by the tone in her voice. For a moment, silence stretched out. Opposing wills clashed, then she heard the library door opening and, seconds later, footsteps running down the hall.

  “Easy, boy,” Sister Agatha said as Pax began to bark. “It was probably just a kid.” Sister Agatha sent Pax over to the door to stand guard, then reached for her cell phone and called Tom. “I think he’s gone now, but you might want to come check things out.”

  “Stay in the library. I’ll call the school number and warn the office staff. Expect me or a deputy in a few minutes.”

  Sister Agatha looked in the desk for a flashlight, but there wasn’t one. Moving slowly, she worked her way across the library to the light switch, near where Pax was sitting at “stay.” She could see his white outline even in the subdued light.

  Suddenly Pax gave off a sharp bark and stood, his attention on the closed door. Following his gaze, Sister Agatha saw the trickle of smoke coming in from beneath the door leading into the hall. A heartbeat later, the fire alarm sounded and the strobe light attached to the alarm began to blink to alert the hearing impaired.

  Sister Agatha flipped on the light switch and looked around the library to verify nobody else was in sight. After making sure the door wasn’t hot and she wouldn’t create a bigger problem by opening it, she took Pax and hurried out.

  As she emerged from the library, she discovered a smoldering trash can in the hall about four feet from the closest wall. The fire, mostly paper ignited with a match or cigarette, was already starting to burn out, judging from the absence of flames and dwindling smoke. Spotting a tripped fire alarm on the closest wall, she reached up and closed the lever. The shrill sound stopped at once.

  Sister Agatha looked beyond the smoldering four-foot-high container, searching for the closest exit. There was a student restroom opposite the trash can, but she didn’t know if it had an exit, except possibly through a window. This time of day, with no students on campus, it was probably locked anyway.

  She was walking past the restroom when a hand suddenly snaked out and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her into the gap between wall and partially opened door. Pax, a half step ahead of her, whirled around, but got entangled in the leash. With her body blocking the entrance, he couldn’t get at the person holding her in an iron grip.

  “Don’t let the dog get past you, and keep him quiet, or you and he are both dead,” a deep, obviously disguised, voice warned. “I’ve got a gun,” he added, shoving the barrel in front of her nose.

  “Pax, quiet!”

  Pax continued struggling, but he stopped barking.

  “What do you want?” Sister Agatha demanded, trying to find a way to slam the steel door shut on her assailant. He must have been blocking the door with his foot, since it didn’t budge when she managed to grab the handle and push.

  “Don’t mess with me, Sister. I make a bad enemy,” he said in a sharp whisper. “Go back to the monastery and stick to praying.”

  As sirens pierced the evening air, she felt the pressure of his grip ease. Seizing the moment, she jerked away and the bathroom door slammed shut.

  Sister Agatha instantly reached down to uncoil the leash from Pax’s neck and body, but the effort was complicated by his pawing at the door.

  “No, stay!” she ordered. The dog’s loyalty and sense of duty were admirable and commendable, but neither of them had a chance against a gunman. She leaned against the door, hoping her weight would keep the man from opening the door again once he realized he was trapped.

  A heartbeat later, Tom came around the hall corner, running in their direction. Seeing Pax barking frantically and scratching at the door, he drew his weapon.

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a man with a gun inside the restroom. He grabbed me by the arm and threatened me. He might still be there—he didn’t come out this way.”

  “Stand back and keep a firm hold on Pax.”

  Tom waited until she was flat against the wall, closer to the library. He then yanked open the door, keeping his body clear, but taking a quick glance inside.

  “Crap. There’s a door on the other side. He went out onto the grounds.” Tom ran into the restroom, disappearing as the door closed behind him.

  Sister Agatha kept a firm grip on Pax, who wanted to follow. He was wired and angry, and wanted nothing more than the chance to turn their assailant into hamburger.

  “You’re a monastery dog, Pax. Stop that.”

  A few minutes later Tom came down the hall, short of breath. “I circled the building, but saw no one except for the office staff and the custodian. They’d all gone to the staff parking area,” he said. “My deputies are checking the neighborhood and school grounds now.”

  Minutes later, the fire chief, a dark-haired, portly man, joined them, carrying a large fire extinguisher.

  “Hey, Tom, Sister. I smelled the smoke all the way from the main door.” He spotted the trash can immediately, and went to look inside. “Doggone, kids. Either of you two see who did it?”

  “Sister Agatha got a glimpse of the perp—an adult. But it was more than just a prank, Bob. I’ll be taking it from here. I’ll need to save the contents of the trash can as evidence and dust the area for prints. If we need your expertise on the fire itself I’ll give you a call.”

  “It’s all yours, Tom,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  As the fireman left, Sister Agatha looked at Tom. “I don’t think you’ll find prints. Remember the note? This was probably the same guy.”

  “I’ll check anyway. Maybe we can get a print from the bathroom door. Was the guy who grabbed you wearing gloves?”

  “I’m not sure. All I saw clearly was the barrel of his gun. But you might also want to check the light switch inside the library, and the door handles leading in and out,” Sister Agatha said, quickly recounting the scary moments in the library.

  “Which brings me to my next question. What were you doing here that generated all this attention?”

  She told him what she’d found out about Jimmy Garza, pointing out the potential risk to Angie Sanchez if Garza was really back in the area. “But all I’ve got is coincidence, supposition, and a lot of guesswork. My next stop’s Luz del Cielo. We still don’t know who has been hanging around the vineyard and watching the monastery. If Garza found out that I’ve been trying to find Angie for her uncle, he might be the one staking us out. If so, maybe Eric has seen the guy up close and can give me a lead, or at least a description of his vehicle.”

  “Good thinking. Let me know what you find out.”

  Sister Agatha drove down the road to the vineyard, then entered the property through the open gates. Eric was seldom home these days, it seemed.

  Sister Agatha parked, then heard her name
being called from across one of the fields. Eric was waving at her from beside what appeared to be a pseudo golf cart. Sister Agatha walked down the pathway between the vines and went to meet him. Pax maneuvered through the vines instead of going around and reached Eric first.

  “You two didn’t have to come over. I was just waving so you’d see me and wait,” he said. “But since you’re here, take a ride with me. I’d like to show you something very special!” He motioned for her to step up onto the cart. Sister Agatha sat beside him on the front bench while Pax made himself comfortable in the back.

  Several minutes later they arrived at the now-gentle slopes of a long, narrow mesa that had been sculpted over time for farming. They climbed off the cart and Eric proudly showed Sister Agatha the sturdy vines growing there.

  “You can’t see these fields from the monastery, except maybe from the roof, but these vines are my pride and joy. They’re descendants of the original Mission grapes that the Franciscans brought over with them in the 1600s. I found them at an old vineyard farther south, but they never produced more than a few bunches of grapes no matter how I babied them.

  “Then, shortly after my wife passed away, I had a dream where she told me to come take another look. When I came, I saw that the vines were really thriving. Before long, they became my best producers.”

  “They’re small grapes,” Sister Agatha commented.

  “Only table grapes are big. I stress our vines so that the fruit will have a more concentrated flavor. I also snip off many of the bunches, so that the ones we do pick are of the highest quality. I’ve now developed a special, deep-colored, long-lasting red wine by mixing these with Tempranillo grapes. I call it San Miguel Rojo, after the archangel, the warrior. I’ll need his fighting spirit if I want Luz del Cielo to make it. So far St. Michael’s been on our side. Our wine has won every competition around.”

  “That’s great.”

  “My wife’s medical bills forced me to sell the vineyard, but I’m now in the process of finding backers so I can buy Luz del Cielo back.”