Prey for a Miracle

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “One more question, Mikey. Do you happen to know what kind of vehicle Andrew drives after work?”

  He thought about it a moment. “A pickup?” he asked, not expecting her to answer. “Yeah, a tan F-150, I think.”

  “Is it parked outside?” she asked, moving to the window and tipping her head toward the lot. “I’d sure like to see it.”

  “It’s back in the employee parking lot. But why do you want a look?”

  “I’d rather not say. Trust me, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

  “Okay, Sister. Come on. Let’s check it out.”

  Mikey waved to another employee who came over to take the counter, then they went outside through a side door. Against the back fence of the property were a dozen or more vehicles. One was an old tan F-150. As she approached she saw the long dent on the passenger’s door and front fender. It had been washed and scrubbed, but traces of blue were still fused into the tan paint where the damage was most severe. Inside, on the passenger’s seat, was a Dallas Cowboys baseball cap.

  “Thanks a lot, Mikey, I’ve seen enough. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be in touch later. Don’t let anyone—including Andrew—take this vehicle anywhere. The police will want to look at it first, I’m pretty sure.”

  “The police? What did Andrew do?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise.”

  Sister Agatha ran to the Harley. Taking out the cell phone, she dialed the sheriff’s station. “You’ll need to check the paint scrape,” she added, after telling Millie all she knew about the vehicle, the cap, and Andrew. “Right now I’m on the way to the monastery, and I’d like you to send a deputy to meet me there.”

  “Sister Agatha, you’re on the wrong trail. Sheriff Green found out that Springer was driving in the area at the time of the accident. A charge slip for gas at a local station confirmed it. Springer has a motive, and we now also have his rental pickup with the damage on the passenger side. He’s already in custody, and if the paint is a match…”

  “Is the damage at the right height to match up with Jessica’s vehicle? And what about blue paint flakes on Springer’s pickup. Were any there?”

  “The rental company had the door replaced. All they kept were some photos for legal purposes, and those won’t be any help now. We’re still trying to find out what the body shop did with the old door. But there’s no doubt Springer was in the area at the right time with a vehicle that matched the witness’s description. Sheriff Green’s planning on turning the paperwork over to the district attorney if we can track down the missing door and verify the physical evidence. The monastery and Father Mahoney were given the news just about ten minutes ago, and the officers working on the case have been pulled.”

  “Millie, I’ve got a strong feeling and some physical evidence that suggests Springer is innocent. I can’t prove it yet, but the person behind all this could be Henry Tannen—driving a Parcel Express truck and using the first name of Andrew. Would you call the sheriff and tell him what I just told you? Meanwhile, I’ll call the monastery and warn them that they still have to keep a close eye on Natalie.”

  “Okay, Sister, I’ll relay everything you told me.”

  Sister Agatha hurried back out to the Harley. Everyone’s guard would be down, and now that the roofers weren’t there anymore, Natalie was more vulnerable than ever. She tried to call the monastery several times, but kept getting a busy signal.

  Sister Agatha made the trip back in less than fifteen minutes. As she pulled through the monastery gates, she saw the large Parcel Express van parked next to the parlor entrance. Fear pounded through her, decimating her courage, as she watched Sister Bernarda innocently holding the door open for Andrew, who was carrying a large box inside.

  As Sister Agatha hurried inside after them, Pax and Natalie came out into the hall, playing tug of war with a knotted piece of rope.

  Andrew, who’d just set the box down, turned toward the girl, pulling a pistol out of his pocket as he did. “Hold onto the dog’s collar, Natalie,” he ordered. “If he gets loose, I’ll have to shoot him.”

  Pax snarled, but Natalie grabbed onto his collar with both hands, then tried to cover his back with her body, shielding Pax as much as she could. “No! I won’t let you hurt him. He’s my friend.”

  “Pax, stay!” Sister Agatha ordered.

  The dog continued snarling at him, but didn’t move.

  “You don’t want to hurt the girl. Put your gun away,” Sister Agatha said firmly.

  Sister Bernarda was subtly maneuvering closer, apparently thinking of disarming him, but Andrew noticed and turned the weapon on her. “Stop right there, Sister.”

  Natalie kept a firm hold on the dog, but Pax was oblivious to her, his gaze fixed on Andrew. His fangs were bared and a low, deep growl was coming from his throat.

  “Shut that dog up, Sister Agatha, if you want him to live.”

  “You’re mean. Just leave!” Natalie yelled, her voice trembling. “He doesn’t want you here—nobody wants you here!”

  Andrew’s face softened as he looked at her. “Natalie? Don’t you know who I am?”

  “No! And I don’t care. You’re scaring all of my friends. Just go!” she said, hugging Pax at the same time she glared at Andrew, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “I’ll go if you come with me,” he said.

  “No! Just go away !”

  “Sweetheart, I can’t leave without you. I’m Henry Tannen— your father.”

  22

  SISTER AGATHA STEPPED CLOSER TO NATALIE, CAUSING Henry’s deadly gaze to shift. “Stay where you are, Sister. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said, “except that fool dog.”

  Though Pax continued to growl, Natalie hugged him even closer. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  “You’re not taking that girl anywhere,” Sister Agatha said flatly. “You’ll have to shoot Sister Bernarda and me first, and if you try, the dog will be all over you. If you really do love your daughter, you’ll leave and stop endangering her.”

  “I won’t hurt Natalie. I want her with me, safe and sound.”

  “You’ve got a funny way of showing it, Henry Tannen. You nearly killed her and her mother, and now you charge in here, waving a gun and threatening us all.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt Jessica that night, it was just an accident. I was only trying to get her to pull over so we could talk. I didn’t mean to bump into her—swear to God. When she ran off the road and crashed I turned around and went right back to help. But then another car came up, so I had to get out of there. I can’t go back to prison. I’d be killed for sure.”

  “Didn’t you know Natalie was in the car, too?”

  “Yeah, but she ran off. I went after her, but there was no time with that other car about to stop. I’d heard Jess shouting for her to run away from me. I expected her to go right back to her mother once I left.”

  Sister Agatha shook her head, but before she could comment, Henry continued.

  “Jess tried to make sure I’d never find her or Natalie again. But once Natalie became a celebrity, I knew I had to meet her,” he said, giving his daughter a quick smile. “I got a job with Parcel Express because I know Jess is a heavy catalog shopper. That’s how I tracked her down. The night of the storm I came to her house, but Jessica saw me and met me outside. She told me to leave, that her neighbor was watching and would call the police if I caused any trouble. She said she needed time to talk to Natalie and that I should come back in an hour. I waited down the street, watching the house. But Jess took off with Natalie, so I followed.” He paused and looked at Natalie. “I just wanted to see you.”

  “The courts will have to decide if that can ever happen. Right now, you need to end this. Turn yourself in. The sheriff is already on his way here,” Sister Agatha said flatly.

  Henry shook his head. “No way. I have a scanner that listens in on police calls. The sheriff arrested some reporter and called off the deputies who were watching the mon
astery. I wasn’t fooled when you took Natalie out of here, switched her with another girl, then sneaked her back in,” he said. “And forget about the phone. I cut the line a half hour ago.”

  “That’s old news. I know about your tan Ford F-150. It’s the third one in the back row of the Parcel Express employee parking area, by the fence. There’re still traces of blue paint on it that you couldn’t rub off. And I called the station just a few minutes ago using a cell phone and told them who you were. Check the scanner if you don’t believe me. This is the end of the line.”

  “You’re not my dad,” Natalie said, furiously. “I have a picture, and you don’t even look like him.”

  “Maybe you’ve got one of my old fatty pictures, honey. I’ve lost over fifty pounds since then—from cancer. That’s why I came to find you. I need your help raising money for doctors and cancer treatment. People would pay to have you ask your angel about their dead relatives, or just to have you pray for them. And reporters will offer big money just to take pictures of you. Come with me, Jessica, I really need you now.”

  “I don’t need you! I want to stay here,” she shouted.

  “If you have any feelings for your daughter at all, you’ll leave right now, Henry,” Sister Agatha pressed. “Or turn yourself in.”

  “Sorry, Sisters. Step into that other room. I’m going to lock you up for a while. Don’t make me have to shoot both of you and the dog. You want Natalie to have that on her conscience?”

  Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda inched toward Natalie’s room, still stalling for time.

  “No, don’t hurt anyone,” Natalie said. “Leave them alone and I’ll go with you.”

  As Henry turned to face his daughter, he lowered his weapon slightly.

  “Rex, packen!” Sister Agatha shouted, using Pax’s police dog name.

  The dog broke away from Natalie and lunged, biting down on Henry’s sleeve. Henry yelled, slipped his arm out of the jacket, then tossed the fabric over Pax’s head. He clubbed Pax with the pistol. Pax yelped, then sagged to the floor.

  Henry grabbed Natalie’s hand, waving his pistol at the sisters. “Get in there. Now.”

  Since there was no lock on the interior parlor door, it had only taken several good shoves to dislodge the chair Henry had jammed against the doorknob. By then, Henry and Natalie were gone. Sister Agatha raced for the Harley with Sister Bernarda, and in seconds they were speeding down the gravel road, searching ahead for the Parcel Express step van. Sister Bernarda was crouched down in the sidecar, cell phone at her ear. They were only a few minutes behind Henry and Natalie.

  “The sheriff is already on his way from town, and the main roads have been blocked. I doubt Henry will reach the highway before he meets up with deputies,” Sister Bernarda shouted over the roar of the motorcycle.

  “Good! Keep watching driveways and side roads in case they turn off. They’ll leave a trail of dust,” Sister Agatha shouted back. Neither had helmets on—there hadn’t been time—and that made communication a lot easier.

  Her eyes were trained on the road, her fingers gripped tightly to the handlebars and throttle, but Sister Agatha’s prayers were for Natalie—and Pax, who she’d left alive and stirring when they’d left the parlor. The other sisters would do what they could to treat him, and were undoubtedly asking for the Lord’s help, just as she was doing right now.

  Her heart skipped a beat as they rounded a curve and she spotted red and blue flashing lights in the distance. Sister Agatha slowed the Harley. Either Henry had reached the highway and encountered the deputies, or he’d seen the lights and turned to find a hiding place. He’d made deliveries in this area, so he probably knew there was no other route to the highway, except on foot. But he’d have to hide the truck first.

  “Dust! Turn left!” Sister Bernarda yelled, pointing to a side road. It led to the deconsecrated adobe church Natalie had hidden in after the accident days ago.

  Passing through a low cloud of swirling dust, Sister Agatha slowed the motorcycle to a crawl on the bumpy path. “Call the sheriff. He knows this place,” she said to Sister Bernarda.

  “Already on it,” the nun in the sidecar said.

  The narrow, tree-lined lane opened up at the far end into the parking lot, but no delivery truck was visible. Stopping the cycle at the end of the road, they looked at the ground. A set of large vehicle tracks circled to the right.

  “He’s parked behind the church,” Sister Bernarda announced, looking around the site, enclosed by fences and trees in every direction except for the lane. “Let’s block the road so he’ll have trouble getting the truck back out.”

  Sister Agatha turned off the engine and climbed off the bike, keys in hand. “I’ll get the flashlight in case they’re hiding inside the building,” she whispered, unfastening the leather strap on the saddlebag.

  Sister Bernarda had already stepped out of the sidecar and was watching the grounds. “I doubt they had the time to break in,” she said, coming up beside Sister Agatha. “The front doors are chained shut.”

  A dog somewhere to their right suddenly started barking, then there was a loud curse.

  “That sounded like Henry,” Sister Agatha said, looking in the direction of the noise, where a fence separated the former church property from the neighboring farm. Figures emerged from high brush at the perimeter, and she saw Henry dragging Natalie along by the arm at a run, heading toward the church.

  “Henry, stop! Let Natalie go!” Sister Agatha shouted.

  He waved the pistol in their direction.

  “Down!” Sister Bernarda shouted, crouching.

  He didn’t fire; instead he kicked in the boards covering one of the church windows. By the time they reached the opening, he and Natalie were inside.

  Sister Agatha waited while Sister Bernarda passed the information on to the sheriff via the cell phone, then she ran over to the window.

  Sister Bernarda, right behind, grabbed her arm. “The sheriff said we should stay outside,” she whispered.

  “And leave Natalie alone with an armed lunatic?”

  “You’re right.” Sister Bernarda brushed past her and stepped over the low windowsill into the building, pushing a loose board aside.

  “Wait for me,” Sister Agatha grumbled.

  The interior of the church was brighter than they’d expected, illuminated by the late afternoon sun passing through the round, stained glass window. But there were enough dark corners and long shadows to hide a dozen criminals. They stood against the inside wall in the shadows and listened for movement.

  A minute went by, the only sound coming from sirens in the distance, slowly increasing in volume. Help was on the way, Sister Agatha realized, thanking God.

  The rattle of metal coming from the back of the church caught their attention. Sister Agatha turned on the flashlight, revealing Henry and Natalie standing just inside the main entrance, in the alcove. The door was chained and locked from the inside, as well. Even from a distance she could see the dark stain on Henry’s sleeve. Pax had drawn blood before being laid out.

  “You’re trapped, Henry, wounded, and losing blood. Please put an end to this and let Natalie go. You can leave if you want. We won’t stop you. Just leave Natalie with us,” Sister Agatha said.

  Henry was moving toward them now, one hand holding Natalie tightly, the other used to aim the pistol at them. “Get that light out of my face,” Henry growled, stepping around them, leading Natalie by the hand.

  Sister Agatha lowered the beam, but kept the light on, providing enough illumination to read his expression as he stood by the window. Blood was dripping to the floor from his arm, puddling at his feet. He definitely needed medical help, and would soon become light-headed. Time was on their side, if they could just stall a little longer.

  “Henry, you’re bleeding. Let us help you,” she whispered.

  Henry cursed, then tried to swing Natalie around to the window. But the girl suddenly resisted, not moving an inch despite his efforts, and in the proc
ess he nearly lost his balance. Angrier now, Henry tugged hard at her hand, but somehow Natalie remained rooted to the spot.

  Sister Agatha looked at Natalie, aware she wasn’t looking at her father or them. Her gaze was focused on something or someone to her right only she could see.

  “Come on, kid.” Henry yanked her arm, but he slipped on the blood and staggered, hitting the wall with his shoulder and losing his grip on Natalie.

  In a heartbeat Sister Agatha grabbed the child and swung her around, protecting Natalie with her own body.

  Sister Bernarda moved, too, but in the opposite direction, taking the offense. The ex-Marine delivered a high kick, knocking the gun out of Henry’s hand. He made a grab for the weapon and Sister Bernarda sent another kick to his side, hurling him back into the adobe wall. He struck his head, then crashed to the floor.

  The rustle of footsteps diverted their attention momentarily, but it was Sheriff Green at the window, a deputy by his side.

  “Don’t move, Tannen,” Tom growled, climbing though the opening, then standing over the dazed man, his weapon out and directed at Henry’s chest. “It’s over.”

  “What kept you, Tom?” Sister Agatha said, reaching for Natalie and discovering both their hands were trembling.

  After Henry had been taken away in an ambulance, under guard, Sheriff Green came up to Sister Agatha, who was sitting on the front steps of the old church. He held the pistol Henry had used against them in an evidence pouch, tagged and labeled.

  “I don’t know if this will make you feel any better, but the gun is only a very realistic replica. The cylinder turns and the trigger works, but the bullets are fake. It can’t hurt anyone.”

  Sister Agatha exhaled softly, tired and glad it was over. “Made a good club, though. Ask Pax. What’ll happen to Henry now?”

  “Once he’s stitched up, we’ll put him in a cell. It’ll take months for the courts to decide what comes next, and we’ll have to deal with Colorado. Agencies there have been protecting him as part of a testimony deal, sitting on his records and doing their bureaucratic stall. We should have been told about his situation from the very beginning, especially after Henry became a kidnapping suspect. But at least in the meantime he’ll get medical care for his cancer.”