Prey for a Miracle

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “Do you recall ever seeing anyone hanging around the house when she wasn’t there…or when she was?”

  “The police asked me the same thing, so I’ll tell you what I told them. Except for her brother the priest and the occasional Parcel Express delivery man, she has no regular visitors. Truth is, she and the little girl are seldom home. On weekdays, Natalie stays with her sitter until Jessica gets off work, which is usually at around eight at night. By ten, when I watch the news, the lights over at their house are out. On weekends, they’re off running errands.”

  “Do you know the sitter?”

  “Sure, it’s Margo Stewart. She lives in the house on the other side of Jessica’s.”

  “Thank you very much for the coffee—and for your help,” Sister Agatha said, swallowing hard and trying to get that awful taste out of her mouth.

  “Sister, that wasn’t coffee! That was my special mix—two parts coffee-flavored protein drink and one glug of tequila.”

  It took all of her strength not to gag. Somehow she forced herself to smile and continue walking to the motorcycle. As soon as she was sure Esther wasn’t watching, she reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a bottle of water. The vile taste remained in her mouth even after a long drink. “Next time I assume something in a coffee cup is just coffee, Pax, bite me.”

  The dog looked up and gave her a panting grin.

  At Mrs. Stewart’s, Sister Agatha knocked, not seeing a doorbell. Although she could hear someone inside, no one answered. She knocked again. Then, instead of footsteps, she heard a creaking noise following by a heavy thunk. The sounds were as rhythmic as they were ominous. Pax’s ears pricked up and he stood.

  “No, sit and stay, Pax,” Sister Agatha said, but remained alert. Taking a firm hold on his collar, she waited.

  A heartbeat later, the door opened and a woman in a wheelchair holding a long, hooked wooden staff appeared. “Hello, Sister,” she said pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

  As she explained why she’d come, Sister Agatha’s gaze strayed to the long cane, which reminded her of a shepherd’s hook from children’s Bible stories.

  Following her line of vision, the woman smiled. “I’ve got two cats who refuse to move aside and make room for my wheelchair, so I push them out of the way gently with this. I use the hook at the other end for pulling things closer so I can reach them.” She laid the cane across her lap, then moved her wheelchair back and gestured for her to come in. “If your dog will behave, he’s welcome, too. But remember my cats. There’ll be no chasing.”

  “Pax’ll stay right by my side, don’t worry.” Sister Agatha followed her into a small, simply furnished living. The leather sofa had been repaired in several places, but it had been done with care. At each end were two angel dolls—one was a bear with wings, the other one a hippo with similar flight gear.

  “I bought those for Natalie, but she only plays with Gracie, a wrinkly-faced rag doll with wings. She loves it. So much for taste,” Mrs. Stewart said with a shaky smile. “Natalie stays with me on weekdays until her mom gets home. Jessica works at Grayson Construction all day then a few hours at night at the library. Jessica needed help so we worked out an informal arrangement that works well for both of us. I babysit and she fixes me dinner on weekends.”

  “Has anyone been bothering her lately?”

  “People come up to her and Natalie all the time, but Jessica can handle herself. She’s very independent and a bit of a loner, too, which is odd because she’s young and very pretty. But the few times I’ve been at her house I’ve noticed how jumpy she gets whenever someone comes to her door. I may be wrong about this, but I don’t think anyone’s that nervous without a specific reason.”

  “Think back. Did you ever see anything out of the ordinary going on over there? I don’t mean something blatant like a man with a crowbar lurking by the windows. I’m thinking of something that might have struck you as odd at the time, but didn’t seem worth mentioning to anyone. Since there’s no hedge between your home and Jessica’s, you have an unobstructed view.”

  Mrs. Stewart mulled it over for a few minutes, then nodded. “I’d forgotten all about it until now. It happened the night we had that bad rainstorm. I was out on my porch pushing the sandbags into place. My porch floods easily because the water in front drains toward the porch when the rain really comes down. That night, as I was working, I saw a pickup pull into Jessica’s driveway. Although it was pouring rain, she came out to talk to the driver, who’d started to get out. Less than a minute later the pickup drove away and Jessica ran back inside the house.”

  “Did you get a look at the driver?”

  “No, no way. The downpour was as thick as soup by then.”

  “Did you notice the color of the pickup?”

  “A light color,” she said, her eyebrows knitting together. “Light gray, I think. But it was dark by then and Jessica’s porch light isn’t very bright.”

  Sister Agatha weighed what she’d learned, then added, “Had you ever seen that pickup there before?”

  “No, but it could have been a mail carrier. Our post office contracts mail delivery out, so our carriers use their own cars or pickups sometimes.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

  Sister Agatha headed to the post office next and, after checking, found Jessica’s neighborhood mail carrier out in the back loading his truck. She recognized him right away as the monastery’s mailman.

  “Hey, Jerry, how are you?” she asked, noting that his truck was light blue.

  “Fine, Sister. What brings you here?”

  “I’m trying to figure out something,” she said, and explained about the pickup at Jessica’s. Giving him the address, she added, “Did you make a delivery there that night?”

  “Sister, I make a lot of deliveries. I have no idea if I was there that night or not. But I do remember I was backlogged that day because my regular vehicle broke down around noon. My wife had our truck, so I had to borrow my son’s SUV. I didn’t get through until very late because of the weather.”

  Disappointed by his vague answer, she added, “Have you ever seen anyone or anything that seemed out of place in that neighborhood?”

  “Not really,” he said. “I spoke to Joe Rodriguez, the Parcel Express guy who works that neighborhood. Jessica does a lot of catalog shopping so Joe goes by almost every week. We had a few beers at The Hog last night and we got to talking about what happened to Jessica Tannen. We both tried to remember if we’d seen anyone bugging her, but we struck out. That’s a quiet neighborhood with several nosy, retired ladies who seem to hang out by their windows. If anyone had been skulking around, one of those old gals would have a deputy there in zero flat.”

  “Thanks, Jerry. If you happen to remember anything else, just drop me a note in the turn when you go by the monastery.”

  After saying good-bye, Sister Agatha headed to the sheriff’s station with Pax. If Sheriff Green was back, she had a few questions for him. She also wanted to follow up on the phony nun and the red sedan she kept seeing.

  Underway, Sister Agatha thought of the sisters back at the monastery. They’d be going crazy by now trying to find a way to concentrate on their prayers despite the noise that surrounded them. Instead of finding the comfort and promise of God’s love in the Divine Office, they were bound to be frustrated by the distractions and their inability to focus on their duty. But the roof had to be fixed. Just as she was about to pronounce it a hopeless situation, she had a burst of sheer inspiration. There was one more donation she needed to get for the monastery and this one would have to come from the county sheriff’s department.

  9

  SISTER AGATHA WALKED INTO THE POLICE STATION A SHORT while later with Pax at her side. Spotting her, Tom Green came out of his office and invited her to take a seat in his office. “I heard about the incident. A deputy was dispatched to the monastery and interviewed every one of the roofers about that intruder of yours, but they weren’t any help. Sister Bernard
a spoke to the cloistered nuns, but none of them got a look at the bogus nun’s face, either. You also didn’t see a face, right?”

  “No, but I’m pretty certain, by the way the person moved, that it was a man. Did the officer check for fingerprints?”

  “On the doors in the chapel and St. Francis’s pantry, yes, but what he got was too smudged to be of much use,” he said. “According to their foreman, all of the roofing crew was accounted for at the time you saw the nun. But we’ve asked the workmen to keep an eye out for anyone approaching the grounds who’s not part of their crew.”

  “Thank God the intruder didn’t harm anyone.”

  “I personally think that this incident is related to your guest,” Tom said. “I had a reporter from one of the tabloids on my back earlier today. The fool actually started following me. I threatened to throw his sorry butt in jail if he ever pulled that again.”

  “Tabloids? They’re following the story?”

  “At least two of them are here from out of town. They want to interview Natalie, so stay sharp.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll try to find out if there’s any possibility that the phony nun might have seen or heard Natalie. Maybe it was one of those reporters.”

  “Maybe, but anyone trying to find Natalie would eventually consider the monastery, particularly since her uncle’s your chaplain.” Tom crossed his arms across his chest. “Please ask the sisters to be extra careful now.”

  “Have you made any progress on the case?”

  Sheriff Green leaned back in his chair. “There are no new leads, not even an address on the ex-husband, Henry Tannen. Can’t even get his fingerprints, though he apparently served some prison time in Colorado after the divorce. Some red tape glitch. Nothing from locals, either, about the rest of the family. Truth is, people are reluctant to talk about Jessica because of Natalie.”

  “I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

  “I’m guessing some of the true believers are afraid Natalie will sic the angel on them if they speak badly of Jessica,” he said. “Or maybe it’s simpler—they just don’t want to upset anyone who has contact with the supernatural.”

  “That makes sense—in a crazy kind of way.”

  “I’m also looking into the possibility that someone wanted to take Natalie out of the picture completely. There are people around who think she’s channeling something nasty.”

  “That, I can categorically say, is baloney.”

  “So does Father Mahoney, and that’s kept the lid on things somewhat.”

  “I’ve been trying to tackle things from another angle. I want to find out what made Jessica take Natalie out in that downpour. Did you find anything at all in the car that might help explain it?”

  “Jessica kept that car spotless. We didn’t find as much as a candy wrapper.”

  “I may have found a connection to her sudden departure.” She told him about the pickup Margo Stewart had seen in Jessica’s driveway earlier. “Did you know about all that?”

  “No,” he said, leaning forward. “What else did the neighbor say?”

  “That’s all I got from her,” she said, then told Tom about her conversation with the mail carrier.

  “People always open up to you and remember things they never told us,” he grumbled. “It’s the nun thing. You’re not threatening to them,” he said. “But come to think of it, Natalie should have known about her mother’s stepping outside during the rain that night and she didn’t mention it to us here. Has she said anything to you about that?”

  “No, but I haven’t seen her since visiting Mrs. Stewart. I’ll talk to Natalie when I get back. My guess is that she forgot.”

  “Press her. This could be critical. And make sure you keep me current on whatever you find out.”

  “You’ve got it,” Sister Agatha said, then added, “There’s one more thing I need to talk to you about.” She told him about the beat-up red sedan.

  “Officers are already checking in the area of the monastery, and deputies are on the watch for a vehicle matching the description. Let’s see what pops up. Meanwhile, if you see it again, call me— immediately.”

  “It doesn’t stick around, Tom. It’s there, it disappears, then appears out of nowhere again when I least expect it.”

  “That’s the mark of a really good tail. Just call me next time you spot it. And remember to let me know right away if you hear from the mail carrier. We got zero from him the other day.”

  “I’ll be happy to help, but now I need to ask you a favor.” There had never been a better time. It was almost providential. “The monastery needs you to make a donation—well, it’s more like a loan.”

  As Sister Agatha told him about her idea, she knew she wouldn’t be turned down. The sisters and Reverend Mother would be getting a much deserved blessing by the end of the day.

  Sister Agatha left for the monastery in high spirits. She was coming bearing gifts and couldn’t wait to approach Reverend Mother. Of course, it could have been argued that she should have asked Reverend Mother before asking Tom, but once the idea had come to her, she’d wanted to act on it right away.

  As she walked into the parlor, Sister Bernarda saw what she had dangling from her arm and laughed. “Ear protectors—the kind used on a firing range? Are you sure you brought that donation to the right place?”

  Sister Agatha looked at her as a new burst of hammering rocked the air. “Can you think of a better place for these?” she shouted.

  “And Reverend Mother approved?”

  “Well, not yet, actually,” Sister Agatha said, less sure now. “So I’m going to leave them here and go speak with her first. Of course, the portresses won’t be able to wear them at all since we need to know when someone comes to the door, but these would be a huge blessing for the cloistered sisters.”

  Sister Bernarda nodded slowly. “They would at that. Sister Eugenia said she’s had a run on aspirins.”

  “I’ll go talk to Reverend Mother now.”

  “I think the issue of the ear protectors will have to wait. Reverend Mother left word that she wanted to talk to you as soon you got back.”

  Sister Agatha felt her stomach tighten. “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure, but the chancellor is still here, though he spoke to Natalie quite a while ago.”

  “Does he know about our intruder?”

  “I have no idea. It’s not my place to ask—nor yours.” Her Marine drill instructor’s voice was now at its best. “Your duty is to obey.”

  “I’m on my way,” she said, handing Sister Bernarda the ear protectors.

  Sister Agatha walked down the corridor and rapped lightly on Reverend Mother’s open door.

  “Sit down, child,” Reverend Mother said after the customary greeting. “This is Father John Roberts, chancellor of our diocese. He has some questions for you about Natalie.”

  “I’ll be happy to answer them, if I can,” she said. Grasping the rosary’s crucifix hanging from her cincture for courage, she looked directly at the priest.

  “I spoke to Natalie for about fifteen minutes earlier today and she continues to insist that she sees an angel. You’ve been around the girl. What’s your opinion?”

  “I suspect, Father, her keen interest in angels began as a game. The child prayed for an angel to come and be her friend because she was lonely. Pretty soon, if Natalie pretended hard enough, she could visualize the angel, and in time her creation became real to her.”

  “Is she unstable?” Father asked.

  “I’m no psychologist, but I doubt it. I think what we’re dealing with is a lonely little girl—nothing more. Natalie’s father abandoned them. She’s never even seen him. Her mother works long hours. I think Natalie wanted a friend who would never go away.”

  As the noise on the roof began again, they all cringed. Father Roberts went to the window, verified that it was shut, then returned to his chair and continued in a louder voice.

  “According to witnesses to the first
incident, she shouted at the car, telling it to stop, and it did. Natalie insists it wasn’t her doing, that the angel did it. Then there was that fire at a friends’ house she predicted,” he added. “Natalie says that her angel told her it was going to happen.”

  “It’s still all just circumstantial evidence fueled by a truckload of gossip and media hype,” she said, offering the other explanations she’d heard.

  “So, in your opinion, should the church step in and debunk these incidents?”

  Sister Agatha considered the question for a while before answering. “This is a tricky situation, Father. No one else outside of Natalie can see this angel and none of the incidents can be said to be genuine miracles because each instance also lends itself to another, rational explanation. Natalie’s not really the problem. She’s just the victim of overblown media attention and gossip.”

  “Have you ever seen her go into a trance or an ecstacy?”

  “No, but occasionally her gaze will become focused and she’ll stare at something no one else can see. She acts as if she’s really concentrating and trying to listen carefully but that’s scarcely evidence in itself.”

  “When I questioned Natalie, she wasn’t very talkative. I think she was afraid, so I’m going to try a different strategy this time. I’d like you to stay with us. Maybe she’ll relax and speak more freely with you present.”

  The hammering continued at a furious intensity that seemed to rock the walls around them. It was coming from two different directions now, trapping them between thunderous walls of sound.

  “I need answers to a few more questions,” he said, handing Sister Agatha a piece of paper. “Perhaps if you ask, and Reverend Mother and I remain in the background, we’ll have better results.”

  Sister Agatha read them over and took a deep breath. “I think you’re overestimating the rapport I have with Natalie. You’d be better off asking Sister Ignatius to come in with her.”