Sister Eve and the Blue Nun

by Lynne Hinton

  The sun was fading, and Eve was becoming more tired when she noticed there were no more blue flowers to follow. It was as if they had just stopped. Eve peered ahead, and for some reason she could not explain, she knew where she was. The path, the open gate, the road that led to the national monument where she remembered meeting the park ranger; she knew she was at the right place. It was exactly the spot where she had been hit by another vehicle. She limped over to where she knew the wreck had occurred and noticed that it appeared to have been cleaned up; her father’s truck was gone, but shards of glass were strewn on the ground. She was certain that she knew where she was. She turned to face a northerly direction, where she could see the outline of the Sandia Mountains miles ahead, and continued to walk.

  She had gone less than half a mile when she saw the clouds of dust moving toward her. She stopped, swallowed hard, and prayed another prayer.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Eve was at a loss. She was completely unsure of who the driver behind the wheel of the approaching vehicle might be. If she remained standing in the middle of the road and waved the driver down and it was John Barr, that could be disastrous. But if she tried to hide, counting on it being John Barr, she might easily miss the only opportunity she had to get a ride to the park ranger’s station or borrow a phone.

  She glanced around the immediate area where she stood and realized, however, that even if she chose the second option, she would not likely find a hiding place. There was not a piñon pine tree or juniper bush anywhere close. She figured that she could climb through the barbed-wire fence that marked off the ranches and move as quickly away from the road as she could, thinking that if it were John Barr, he wouldn’t be able to chase her in his truck since there was no open gate that she could see. He could certainly outrun her, though; she knew that. And she also knew that one shot from a rifle would make it to her even more quickly than a man running after her.

  She remembered her ankle. She was in no position to run a footrace. Her entire foot was swollen, and even though she wanted desperately to take off her hiking boot, she knew that if she removed it, she would not be able to put it back on. The swelling would expand and the shoe would no longer fit. The pain and discomfort, however, were growing more and more intense.

  She wasn’t sure how many miles she had to go to return to the intersection of Highway 55, a more likely place to get a ride or some help, or to Salinas, but feeling the way she did, she wasn’t sure she could go another three or four miles. She knew her only choice was to hope for the best, to stand by the road and gain the attention of whoever the driver might be. She made the sign of the cross on her chest, bowed, and waited. When she looked up, the vehicle was close enough to recognize, the dust pouring out behind it, the driver traveling way too fast on such a rough desert road. Eve started to cry.

  It was a new BMW M3 sedan, Yas Marina Blue Metallic, TwinPower Turbo inline six-cylinder engine, delivering 431 horsepower and managing up to 406 foot-pounds of torque. It had a carbon fiber reinforced plastic construction and M carbon ceramic brakes. It had a state-of-the-art navigation system, Bluetooth mobile office, surround-sound system, and satellite radio. It was everything an automobile connoisseur could ask for. A person could use it for luxury drives to faraway destinations or for in-town business. Doctors drove it. Lawyers drove it. Successful CEOs drove it. And so did one police officer from the Santa Fe Police Department, and she knew this because she had been with him when he picked it out from the lot in Albuquerque.

  Detective Daniel Hively was driving right toward her.

  Eve dropped down onto the side of the road, the walking stick falling from her hand and rolling away, and she just kept crying. Even when the car braked in front of her, skidding and fishtailing past her a couple of hundred feet, all four doors opening, Eve could not stop sobbing.

  “Evangeline, Holy Mother, Evangeline …” It was the Captain who was calling and who was having the hardest time exiting Daniel’s new car. “Holy Mother … would somebody please help me out of this ridiculous car?”

  Eve’s weeping then turned to laughter as she watched her father pushing and pulling out of the passenger’s side. One of the men from the backseat who was walking in her direction turned around and walked back to assist.

  “What on earth?” It was Daniel kneeling beside her. “You look terrible. You look like you’ve been in a train wreck.” He placed his finger beneath her chin and turned her face so that he could see her injuries better. He pulled down the collar of her shirt and made a terrible face. He placed himself right in front of her and stared into her right eye. “Can you see me?”

  She cried and laughed and nodded, unable to form the words to answer.

  “What on earth?” The Captain had finally made his way next to her, asking the same question as Daniel had asked. “Mother …” He leaned in. “Who did this to you?” he asked. “Who beat you like this?” And then he stood up and looked around. “Where’s my truck?”

  Eve tried to catch her breath and was soon given a bottle of water by one of the car’s passengers, the detective from Taos, Lujan. She took a few sips.

  She could overhear a call on a scanner being made by the other detective somewhere out of sight. He was asking for an ambulance, giving directions to their location. She heard him describe her condition, and even though she wanted to say that she had been this way for some time, that she had managed for hours, maybe days, he said it was an emergency and she let the assessment stand.

  “What day is it?” she asked the men standing in front of her. “How long have I been gone?”

  “It’s Sunday,” her father answered. “You left the monastery early Friday morning. Not a peep from you since then.” He shook his head. “You worried me to death, you know that?” He rubbed his chin. “And where the heck is my truck?”

  Detective Lujan took off his jacket and gently placed it around her shoulders. “Give me your coat,” he said to Officer Bootskievely, and the other officer, finished with his call, took off his police windbreaker and handed it to him. Lujan placed it on her lap. “Take a few more sips of water,” he said, handing her the bottle. “But not too much.”

  She did as she was instructed and started to feel a little better.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” he asked, kneeling on the other side of her from Daniel.

  “I was T-boned, just up the road,” she said and gestured with her chin. “I don’t know when,” she added. “I was hit on the passenger’s side and I guess when the impact happened, I slammed into the door and window.” She glanced down. “I think I’ve dislocated my shoulder and my hip is pretty shot.”

  “Anything else?” He was checking her for broken bones, touching various parts of her body. When he reached her right ankle, she gasped. He rolled up her pants leg to get a better view and shook his head. “Looks broken,” he said.

  He turned to his partner. “Where’s the unit coming from?”

  “Socorro,” came the answer. “Should be here in thirty or forty minutes,” he added. “Unless they got somebody driving like Mr. Indy 500 here.” He threw out his thumb in Daniel’s direction, getting a smile from Eve.

  “How did you know where I was?” Eve finally thought to ask. “How did you know to come out here?”

  “Found your cell signal in Terrero. So we started there,” Daniel answered.

  “Then a park ranger from up here at the monument called me this morning,” the Captain added. “She said you were out at the site night before last, and she waited a few hours but never saw you come back that way. She got concerned, she said, and the next day followed the dirt road she had seen you take. Saw signs of a wreck, she thought, but no cars. So she looked you up in Madrid, remembering your name and residence, found me, and well, that was that.”

  “Have you been here all this time?” Daniel asked.

  “I was taken down to some c
abin.” She pointed behind her. “I woke up and …” Suddenly she remembered her friend. “Anthony’s there,” she said. “Anthony was in the cabin I was taken to and he’s sick. He’s been poisoned or drugged. You have to go down there to get him.”

  Daniel turned to the other detectives and headed for the car. “You stay here,” he said to the Captain, who nodded in response.

  “It’s Barr, right?” the Captain asked Eve. “He’s the one behind all of this? We found some pretty weird stuff in his house when we found your cell phone, and he seemed very strange when we talked to him this morning. He’s the killer, isn’t he?”

  Eve was about to answer when they all noticed another vehicle flying down the road toward them. It was a white truck, one they all seemed to recognize. She heard Detective Bootskievely shout out, “It’s him!” and all three of the officers drew their weapons on the approaching vehicle. The Captain quickly jumped in front of her, blocking her vision.

  She moved to see around him, and although Eve knew the truck was Barr’s, she noticed something else that was very surprising. She grabbed ahold of her father’s coat, pulling herself up from the ground, and started to yell, “Don’t shoot! Wait!”

  FIFTY-THREE

  Somehow Eve was able to get up from her resting place on the side of the road and push her way in front of the Captain. She was standing almost in the middle of the road when Barr slammed on his brakes. He skidded to a stop just a few feet from her.

  Daniel and the other detectives were screaming at her to get out of the way as they stood behind the BMW with their guns pointed at the driver in the white truck. Eve reached out with her right hand, touching the hood of the truck and leaning on it, guiding herself as quickly as she could until she stopped right at the driver’s-side door.

  “It’s not him,” she yelled. “It’s not Barr.”

  It was clearly Barr’s truck, and he was certainly recognizable through the windshield. Misunderstanding Eve’s revelation, all of the men appeared confused, especially John Barr, who still had his foot on the brake and had raised both hands up above the steering wheel.

  “Evangeline, get out of the way,” the Captain shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed.” He had moved closer to her and was holding out his hand, trying to get her to step away from the vehicle.

  She stood her ground and shook her head. “No, he didn’t do this. He didn’t do any of this.”

  Daniel, with his revolver still raised, walked slowly over to Eve and her father. He stood just at the front of the vehicle. “Move out of the way, Eve,” he said, gesturing for her to step aside.

  She blew out a breath and hobbled over to stand by the Captain. “It wasn’t him,” she said again to Daniel as he kept his gun pointed at the man behind the wheel.

  “Just get out of the truck nice and slow,” he instructed Barr, apparently not paying Eve any attention.

  The Captain took her by the arm and assisted her as they walked behind Daniel. She stopped and turned around, still trying to get the officers to listen to her.

  John Barr put the truck in park, turned off the engine, and opened the driver’s door.

  “Slowly,” Daniel said. “Just step out and turn around and put your hands where I can see them.”

  The man stepped out of the car, obeying all of Daniel’s instructions. He got a good look at Eve before he turned around.

  “Now, put your hands above your head.” Daniel walked over to Barr, pulling out his handcuffs. When he got to him, he cuffed him and turned him around. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “He brought Anthony here,” Eve answered for him.

  Daniel turned and gave her a look that clearly told her to stay out of this conversation.

  The Captain steered her toward Daniel’s car.

  “Answer me, Barr, what are you doing out here?”

  “I came to check on the two of them,” Barr replied. “She’s right, I did bring Anthony here because he was sick and I knew you were searching for him. I thought I could get him better and give him some time to make a plan. I figured you’d find him if he was at my house, so I brought him here.”

  “What kind of plan?” Detective Bootskievely had joined Daniel. “Are the two of you in this together?”

  Eve shook her head as Barr remained silent.

  Detective Lujan had moved to the other side of Barr’s vehicle and appeared to be examining the contents of the rear of the truck. Eve watched him as he walked back to the passenger’s side and peered through the window. “Do you mind if I take a look inside?” he asked the driver.

  “Go ahead,” Barr replied.

  The detective opened the door and appeared to go through things he found on the seat. He held up a plastic bag. “First-aid equipment,” he said to his colleagues. He opened the bag. “Bandages, tape, ibuprofen, wraps, antibiotic ointment, clean towels.” He pulled out what appeared to be an inhaler. He held it up. “Who’re the poppers for?” he asked Barr.

  Barr turned away without responding.

  “It’s for Anthony,” Eve answered. “He’s trying to get the poison out of Anthony. It’s the antidote for cyanide—amyl nitrite, right? He needs it because he was poisoned too, and that means somebody needs to get to him soon.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?” Officer Bootskievely asked.

  She shrugged. “Agatha Christie, Michael Connelly? I don’t know. I read a lot of mysteries.”

  Daniel glanced over to Lujan without making a comment on Eve’s reply.

  “I’ll check it out,” the younger officer said, seeming to understand the look he had been given. “You want me to drive your car?”

  Daniel shook his head. “No, you and Boots take Barr with you, drive his truck with him nice and secure between you both so that he can tell you where he has him stashed. I’ll stay here and wait for the ambulance.”

  “Take the handcuffs off, Daniel.” Eve was trying to get closer to the truck, but her father had a firm grip on her.

  “You need to sit down,” Captain Jackson said to his daughter. “Let me put you in Daniel’s backseat. You’re starting to look flushed.”

  “Well, that’s because I am flushed! I’m trying to tell you John Barr isn’t a threat. He didn’t do anything except try and help Anthony. He’s innocent! And I’m flushed because I’m angry that no one is listening to me!”

  The Captain had taken Eve by her right arm and was trying to pull her to the other car parked on the road.

  “Okay, tell us why you’re so sure he’s not guilty. Why should we take off the handcuffs?” Daniel had turned and started walking toward Eve.

  Bootskievely remained next to Barr. “Tell us, Sister, what you know that we don’t know.”

  The Captain let Eve go and she limped over to Daniel, who had taken a position between the two vehicles.

  “Look at the truck,” she said, stumbling over to him. “Look at the front of his truck.”

  All three of the police officers and the Captain turned their attention to Barr’s vehicle. Barr watched Eve closely.

  “He wasn’t the one who hit me,” she said, finally able to get out what she had been trying to tell the men. She felt a little wobbly, but she wasn’t about to stop talking. “He’s the only one who drives this truck, and he didn’t hit me.” She faced Barr. “You didn’t hit me. You found me and took me to the cabin to take care of me, just like you’re doing with Anthony. And you left to try and find the antidote. You left us water and food. You did your best. You aren’t the killer; you’re the hero.”

  Barr glanced away. “It took too long. I took too long.”

  “She’s right about him,” the Captain pointed out. “There’s been no damage to his vehicle. It’s true. He can’t be the one who hit Evangeline. But I still don’t have the answer to my question, ‘Where the h
eck is my truck?’ ”

  Eve opened her mouth to say something else but suddenly stopped. Everything went black, and she collapsed to the ground.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  “I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of him.” Eve woke herself up with the promise she was making and quickly discovered the Captain sitting by her side. She glanced around, trying to figure out where she was, still only one eye opening. Nothing was familiar to her. She was in a bed, tethered to IV lines.

  “You’re in the hospital,” Jackson told her, sitting up a bit in his chair to get closer to her. “Albuquerque,” he added. “You’ve had surgery.”

  “What?” She tried to make sense of what he was saying. Everything was blurry.

  “Surgery, two of them, in fact.” He stood up and leaned over the side of the bed. “They reset your shoulder, which is why your arm is bandaged to your body; they repaired your ankle, which is why your leg is hanging from a pole down there. You’ve got a bunch of stitches in your head, a bruised pelvis, concussion, damaged eardrum, black eye.” He shook his head. “Well, that’s all I can remember. There’s some more stuff too.”

  She tried to sit up but didn’t get very far before she fell back in the bed. She felt queasy and still very confused. “What day is it? How long have I been in here?”

  “Now, you see, that’s exactly what I asked you after my surgery and you got all snippety. You remember that? Seems like you said, ‘Well, it’s three days since the operation, four days you’ve been in the hospital.’ You remember that? You see now why I asked the question?” He was holding the side bars of the bed. She knew he was close to her, but he seemed very far away. “It’s confusing being a patient, isn’t it?”