Prey for a Miracle (15 page)

“Of course we do. We sell all kinds of breads, cakes, pies, and pastries. But our cookies are—were—our best profit-makers. Now even Smitty has cut his wholesale orders from our ovens. Are you nuns going to be in the cookie business for a long time, or is it just to raise some extra money?”

“I don’t expect we’ll stop anytime soon. Our expenses still have to be met.”

“I’ve worked too hard to build a business in this community, Sister. If you’re going to become my competitors, then expect a fight on your hands.”

“Mr. Dexter, there’s a place for both of us under God’s plan. We have no desire to usurp you. We just want to sell enough cookies to keep a roof over our heads.”

“A bakery has a low profit margin, Sister. I honestly can’t afford to sit back while you steal my customers.”

“Then give them a good reason to buy the other items you bake. We have no desire to hurt any other business in the community. But our Cloister Cluster sales are going to continue, at least for the time being.”

As she finished speaking, a backfire in the parking lot told her the Antichrysler had returned. “Speaking of that, I’ve got to help Sister Bernarda unload some cartons. Please excuse me.”

As Dexter strode off, Chuck Moody came up to her. “Sister, I heard him giving you a hard time. Maybe I should go let the air out of his tires. Whadda ya think?”

Sister Agatha looked at him in surprise, then laughed out loud at the outrageous offer. “No, Chuck, thank you, but we don’t do things that way.”

Just as Chuck moved off, Sister Bernarda hurried up to the booth, carrying a large carton containing boxes of Clusters. “What was Jerry Dexter talking to you about?”

Sister Agatha filled her in, and when Sister Bernarda heard Chuck’s offer, she laughed. “I just can’t figure out what’s bothering Dexter. People go into his shop for bread, wedding cakes, and doughnuts, don’t they? He only has one little display case of cookies, if I remember correctly. Surely he doesn’t
really
think we’re hurting his business.”

About an hour later, while Frances and Sister Bernarda were busy with customers, Sister Agatha took a moment to rearrange the boxes on the counter so they’d be within easy reach. As she did, a small white envelope caught her eye. It had been placed at the corner of the narrow counter and weighed down with a rock so it wouldn’t blow away. “Did either of you put that there?”

When both of them shook their heads, she opened it quickly, curious to see what it was. Several one-hundred-dollar bills were crammed inside. Sister Agatha counted them quickly. “There’s a thousand dollars in here,” she said. Seeing a small yellow note between the bills, she brought it out and read it. “It’s a donation for the monastery.”

“From whom?” Sister Bernarda asked.

“It isn’t signed.” Leaning over the front counter, Sister Agatha caught the eye of the woman in the booth next to theirs. “Did you see anyone leave an envelope for us?”

“Yeah, that man over there,” she said, and pointed. “You were all busy unpacking boxes at the time.”

Sister Agatha gazed in that direction and saw a tall, lanky man wearing a blue baseball cap low over his face. Before she could get a good look at him, he disappeared into the crowd.

“Reverend Mother said that we needed one thousand for the down payment on the roof,” Sister Agatha said quietly.

“Then it’s a gift from God,” Sister Bernarda said.

“Maybe Natalie’s angel is working for you,” Frances said.

For the first time she found herself fervently hoping that they did have an angel in their midst. That possibility was a lot less frightening than the alternative—that their private conversations had been overheard from the day the roofers had first arrived.

A
FTER MORNING PRAYERS THE FOLLOWING DAY, SISTER
agatha went to Reverend Mother’s office. They’d arrived late last night and she hadn’t had a chance to speak to the abbess until now. Sister Agatha didn’t bother to knock. The abbess, who had taken to wearing her ear protectors now that the hammering had begun again, never would have heard her.

As Sister Agatha approached the desk, Reverend Mother looked up and removed her ear protectors. After the customary greeting, Reverend Mother invited her to sit down.

“Child, you look so worried. Is something wrong?”

“Mother, we may have a problem,” she said, telling her what Chuck Moody had said and about the donation. “If they’re listening…” she said, having to raise her voice because it was the only way to be heard.

“Warn the sisters and our guest to be especially careful,” she said, without mentioning Natalie by name.

When Sister Agatha returned to the parlor, she found Sister Bernarda at her desk and Natalie reading softly to Gracie. The scene was peaceful. Then, all of a sudden, several hammers began to pound in unison.

Gritting her teeth, she wrote down the warning Reverend Mother had asked her to pass on, then gave Sister Bernarda the note. Sister Bernarda’s eyes widened slightly as she read it and she nodded somberly.

Sister Agatha decided to take another look at the adjoining reception room that had become Natalie’s quarters. The windows were covered with thick curtains. Nothing—not even the merest trace of light—penetrated, and there were no vents in the walls or ceiling that could conduct the girl’s voice outside.

Wordlessly, she turned and went outside. As she walked over to the Harley, Pax came bounding up to her. Sister Agatha signaled Pax to jump into the sidecar then sped out the gates. The wind felt good against her skin, and seeing Pax happily sniffing the breeze as they zoomed down the road, she allowed herself to relax.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Sister Agatha eased back on the throttle. As she made the turn onto the narrow drive leading to the rectory, she saw the door fly open.

Father Mahoney ran outside, then sprinted down the front end of the small building. “Get him!” he yelled, looking in her direction for a second.

She couldn’t see anyone except for Father Mahoney, who’d reached the corner already. Then Pax barked, placing his front paws on the sidecar windscreen.

“No! Stay!” she shouted, afraid he’d try and jump out of the moving Harley and break a bone, or worse. Speeding up, she drove on, trying to see what or who Father was chasing.

At the back of the rectory, the church parking lot continued for another hundred feet, then ended in a six-foot adobe wall. A man in gray coveralls and a baseball cap was running west across the gravel.

She accelerated, hoping to head him off. Making a sliding left turn, Sister Agatha barely missed the row of concrete parking barriers. Pax, still excited and barking at the top of his lungs, nearly fell out of the sidecar. But she was too late. The man raced in front of her, leaped up onto the wall, and scrambled over before she could stop.

“Go around. Try to see where he goes!” Father Mahoney shouted as he caught up to them. He leaped up onto the wall and scrambled over with a grunt.

“Hang on, Pax!” She made a quick turn, then raced back out the driveway, looking for oncoming traffic in the main street, hoping to pull out immediately. But she had to stop for an old pickup. Once it passed, she raced up to the next corner and made a right turn, heading west. This street would take her into the neighborhood where the intruder and Father Mahoney had gone.

“Let’s head him off at the pass,” she said to Pax, who barked back. Speeding down to the next corner, she realized the road ended there. She slid to a stop and climbed off the Harley. Pax was already out, but unsure where to go.

“Up,” she yelled, climbing a weed-covered embankment so she could look around. It took only a few seconds to find the man in the coveralls. He was climbing into a tan pickup a hundred yards to the north, on the other side of the wide ditch. The canal was empty, but the sides were steep and lined with tall brush, and there were no footbridges within sight. Even Pax would have trouble climbing up the other side. She was forced to stare in frustration as the pickup roared off to the west. Running up the ditchbank, Pax by her side, Sister Agatha kept the vehicle in sight as long as she could. It reached the next corner and turned south, finally passing out of view behind a house.

Hearing footsteps, she turned and saw Father Mahoney racing up. All she could do was shake her head. “He got away.”

Father Mahoney rode back in the sidecar with Pax more or less on his lap. It looked uncomfortable, and Pax jumped out as soon as they pulled up in front of the rectory. Frances came out immediately, telephone still in hand.

“I called the sheriff,” she said, looking over the priest. His clothing was dusty and there was a tear in his black trousers, and his hair, usually neatly groomed, had been blown askew by the motorcycle ride.

“Is anything missing from my office?” Father Mahoney asked, reaching for the screen door handle.

“We should wait outside, Father,” Sister Agatha said loudly, then realized she still had her helmet on.

“Oh. You’re right. There might be fingerprints or something. No, wait—he was wearing gloves, I think.” He turned to look at Sister Agatha. “Wasn’t he?”

She nodded. “I think I saw them when he climbed over the wall. But we’d better let the experts check first.”

“You can wait for the police on one of the benches,” Frances said, pointing to the wooden seats in the small garden area between the church and the rectory. “I’m going to go into the chapel and thank the Lord we’re all still alive.”

A few minutes later, Sister Agatha learned the details of what had happened. Father had come in from the church and greeted Frances, who was in the kitchen. Puzzled, she immediately asked who was in his office. He’d hurried in and nearly grabbed the intruder, who’d overheard and was escaping out the open window. Father had gone around, not able to fit through the window, and that was when Sister Agatha and Pax arrived.

“Well, with the tan pickup, we can make the connection between today’s breakin and the attack on Jessica and Natalie,” Sister Agatha concluded. “The intruder must have come searching for something that would lead him to Natalie.”

“If I’d been a step faster, I’d have had the sorry bas—weasel in my hands. If I ever catch up to him, I’m going to yank his arms right off. The Lord would forgive me, I’m almost certain of that,” Father replied. His voice was very controlled and even, a quality that made it even more frightening.

“This kidnapper, or whatever he is, will be caught,” Sister Agatha said softly.

Father Mahoney closed his eyes for a moment in what looked like a prayer, then sighed loudly and turned to her. “What brings you here today, Sister Agatha? Good news, I hope.”

“Maybe news that will lead us to answers.” She told him what she’d learned about Del Martinez and Joseph Carlisle, and the threat that might have posed to Jessica, who’d had access to their bookkeeping. “But my source is far from reliable,” Sister warned. “Did Jessica ever mention her boss to you?”

“I got the impression she didn’t like Carlisle very much. But if Jessica had discovered something illegal was going on, I’m certain she would have told someone.”

Sister Agatha nodded. “Maybe she told the wrong person. Or maybe she kept quiet, afraid she’d get pulled into the mess somehow and end up having all the blame pushed off on her. Could that have been the real reason she was planning to leave town?”

“Only Jessica can tell us that,” Father Mahoney said warmly. “But I hate even the thought that the pair would try and cover their behinds by selling out Natalie.”

“We need to keep an eye out for that tabloid reporter, whoever he is,” Sister Agatha said. “There’re a lot of people around here who could use the money he’s apparently offering for information on Natalie.”

“Unfortunately, some events, like what happened on the night she was run off the road, may never come back to Jessica. That’s according to her doctor,” he said. “It’s all up to Sheriff Green now. I just hope for Natalie’s sake that he can track down the man in the tan pickup.”

“He’s also looking for Henry, Jessica’s ex-husband, too, just in case,” Sister Agatha reminded.

“In my opinion, that’s a waste of time.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked as Frances brought each of them a cup of freshly brewed coffee, obviously prepared in one of the church’s meeting rooms. The housekeeper stood back in the shade, watching the road for the sheriff’s deputy to arrive.

“Henry’s been completely out of the picture for seven years, give or take,” he said. Shaking his head, he added, “Yet Jessica’s always been terrified that he’d return one day and force his way into her life again.” Father scowled as if the subject disgusted him. “One of my biggest regrets is that I never knew what he was doing to my sister when they were together. If I had, I’d have put
him
in the hospital.” Father Mahoney’s eyes were flashing, and for a second he looked more like the man who’d chased after the intruder less than a half hour ago.

Father forced himself to take a deep breath, then calmed down, sipping his coffee briefly. “Sorry, Sister, I find it hard to show any semblance of Christian charity to that bum. Not long after he finally split, I discovered that Henry used to beat the tar out of Jessica. That’s why she ended up giving birth to Natalie before her due date. Jessica filed for divorce the day she got out of the hospital with the baby, but he stalked her on and off for more than a year, despite a court order. Then one day he just disappeared. She heard a rumor, later on, that he’d ended up in prison.”

He stared at the coffee cup for a moment then stood and walked toward the steps of the chapel’s main entrance. After a moment he turned around and faced her again. “Even if he’s out now, I just can’t see him trying to get back into Jessie’s life—particularly because I’m in the picture now and he knows I’ll protect her.”

As he fell silent, Sister Agatha got a glimpse of the odd expression on Frances’s face, but before she could say anything, the portable phone the housekeeper was still carrying in her apron pocket began to ring. She answered it, then handed the receiver to Father Ma-honey. Sister Agatha walked away with Frances into the lobby of the church, giving him some privacy.

Frances’s loyalty to Father Mahoney was total, but there was obviously something bothering her right now. “The deputy will probably be arriving any minute, Frances. While we have time, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” Sister Agatha said softly.

Frances hesitated, then after a moment she answered, “Jessica told me once, not long ago, that if Henry ever heard the stories about Natalie’s special ‘gifts’ he’d come back—that he’d never pass up the chance to use his kid to make money. Jessica was terrified, but not for herself. She was afraid for Natalie. I’d always assumed Father knew that, but maybe not. If Henry’s around, I mean if it turns out he’s the one who just broke into the rectory, I should mention this to the police.”

“Do it anyway when they come.” Remembering the man Jessica’s neighbor had seen the night of the storm, she added, “What would Jessica have done if Henry had shown up at her door?”

“Called the police,” she said, then shook her head. “No, nix that. She was afraid that he’d demand visitation rights or partial custody. My guess is she would have come here, to her brother’s.”

Sister Agatha thought of Jessica’s fateful car trip. It was possible she’d been on her way to the rectory. What if the man who ran them off the road had been Henry?

Thanking Frances for the information, Sister Agatha walked to where Father stood. He was off the phone now.

“The deputy has been delayed, so we can go back into the rectory as long as we stay out of my office. Now what were we talking about?” He opened the door and motioned for her to join him.

Sister Agatha joined him at the kitchen table. “I have a question for you, Father. So far no one’s been able to figure out
why
Jessica chose to leave her house during that terrible storm. Is there
any
chance that she was running to you—that maybe her husband Henry tracked her down? Could the man we just saw, the man in the tan pickup, be Henry Tannen?”

Father Mahoney gazed across the room, his expression frozen and his hands clenched into massive fists. “If he lost a lot of weight, maybe. I didn’t get a look at his face, so I can’t say it wasn’t Henry. But if that’s the case, then I screwed up and I’m to blame for what’s happened,” he said, his voice raw. “I kept telling Jessica that Henry was too cowardly to come around again. If it turns out I was wrong and she paid for it…”

“You have nothing to blame yourself for. Besides, this is just speculation. We still don’t really know what happened.”

“But even now I’m failing Jessica,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I’ve visited parishioners dozens of times at the hospital and yet when it comes to my own sister, the ball game changes. I’ve tried, but I can’t even stay for five minutes. It hurts too much to see her this way. Jessica’s always been the tough one, really. Even when her marriage to Henry fell apart she never crumbled. She found a job and raised Natalie alone. Next year she was planning to start taking night classes in accounting. Fate couldn’t destroy her spirit, so it destroyed her body instead.”

“Jessica hasn’t given up, and you can’t, either.”

“I’m a priest, Sister. I’m on the front lines every single day. I
know
hope for what it is. It tempts you to believe in chances, to forget the odds. Better to brace yourself for the worst ‘cause that’s what usually ends up happening.”

“God never said life would be easy,” she answered. “He only promised that He’d see us through the hard times, that we wouldn’t walk alone.”

Father Mahoney nodded, then turned toward the window again and stared outside.

“You don’t have a photo of Henry, do you? I’d like to know what he looks like—just in case.”