Prey for a Miracle (3 page)

“Absolutely. Stop being such a sissy,” she teased.

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered.

Smitty stepped into the sidecar and sat down on the small bench. Pax jumped in, sitting right between Smitty’s outstretched legs, looking right into his face. “What if he smells Preacher, my cat? He might suddenly remember he’s descended from predators,” Smitty whispered.

“He likes cats.”

“Grilled or deep fried?”

With a reassuring smile, Sister Agatha maneuvered away from the maze of vehicles alongside the fruit stand command post and drove directly to the area that the sheriff had mapped out for them. They began at the southernmost path leading toward the thickly wooded area on both sides of the Rio Grande, their route lit by the single headlight of the Harley, and Smitty searching to the side with the flashlight. Sister Agatha realized she’d have to move carefully to avoid being stuck, and only stop on firm ground.

Smitty called out, “Why are we searching here? From what I’ve been told, Natalie wasn’t the outdoorsy type. She’d rather be in a library than alongside a ditch bank.”

Sister nodded slowly. “You’re right. But we have to rule out every possibility. A scared kid doesn’t always opt for the logical, especially if someone’s chasing her. Let’s see if we can find any sign that she came through here,” Sister Agatha said, parking on a grassy area that looked well drained. “If not, we’ll head back and get a new assignment.”

With Smitty to her right, and Pax heeling on her left, they walked along the tree line of the bosque, flashlights in hand, heading north and occasionally calling out the girl’s name.

“We should have been able to spot footprints even if she came here during the worst of the rain, especially on my side where the trees begin and the ground is drier,” Smitty said. “But what if she’s been taken by some desperate parent or religious fanatic? That story on television was really something. They made her look like a kid with a direct line to the spirit world and an angel for a sidekick. I’m surprised Father Mahoney didn’t see this coming.”

“We all assumed people would realize that Natalie’s just a kid— admittedly, one with a terrific imagination,” Sister Agatha said, defending the monastery’s chaplain. “That show, I’m told, has also run features on UFOs and werewolves. Their credibility factor is pretty close to zero.”

“I’m not so sure. That segment about Natalie was impressive. No one could explain how that car managed to start rolling, or what made it stop in time if it wasn’t because of Natalie or her angel. And there’s another story going around about the girl, too. Apparently Natalie warned a classmate to watch out for a fire at her home, and the house
did
catch fire later that same night. The family managed to escape because Natalie’s friend had remained watchful, though she never told her parents about the warning until afterwards.”

“The church is looking into all that, Smitty, but nothing’s been sanctioned. If I were you, I’d take everything you’ve heard with a large grain of salt.” Sister Agatha paused for a moment, then continued slowly. “I may be wrong about this part, but I get the feeling that Father Mahoney doesn’t buy any of it.”

“I know he’s asked Natalie not to talk about it anymore.”

Sister Agatha wasn’t surprised by how much Smitty knew. Smitty genuinely liked people and always took time to talk to them when they came into his store.

“Father doesn’t want the stories to mislead people. As Catholics we believe in saints and angels, but God is the only one who should be worshipped.”

“We differ on that saint business,” he answered with a smile, “but I agree with the rest.” He paused for a long moment, then exhaled softly as they continued to look for a trail. “Poor Jessica. Things just seem to go from bad to worse for her lately. More than anything she wants her daughter to be treated like a regular kid again. That’s why she refuses to let Natalie do anything that sets her apart. She even pulled her out of art class, though Natalie’s a first-rate sculptress. Natalie’s teacher was really upset about that decision. She’s from our church, so I heard all about it. When I ran into Jessica at the store, I did my best to get her to change her mind about that, but I didn’t have any luck.”

“Jessica’s worried and with reason. Let’s face it, the world’s seldom kind to anyone who’s different,” she said, carefully searching the ground.

They continued for two hours, covering their area from one end to the other and calling out until their voices were hoarse. By then Smitty was sneezing every few seconds and was shivering from the cold despite his raincoat.

“I’m going to drop you off at the command center. You need a hat and something warm to drink,” Sister Agatha said at last. “We’ve searched our area completely and Natalie obviously never came this way.”

“If she’s on her own and scared, my guess is that she’ll head someplace familiar to her—someplace dry,” he said, coughing.

“There are people at the rectory, her home, and even her school just in case she goes there,” Sister Agatha said.

Smitty shook his head. “No, I don’t think she’d go to any of those places. School is locked up tight at this hour, and the other places are too far away. I think she’d head someplace closer. Maybe the monastery.”

“I sure hope so. If Natalie goes there, she’ll be safe and Sister de Lourdes will notify everyone here immediately.”

As Sister parked the motorcycle, Smitty climbed out stiffly. “I’m going to get myself a big mug of hot coffee. Want some?”

“No, thanks. I need a chance to think things through. I have a strong feeling that we’re missing something.”

“The search grids are meant to make sure we don’t miss anything. They even overlap. Sheriff Green’s being thorough.”

“I know, but...” She shrugged.

With Pax in the sidecar, curled nearly into a ball to stay warm, Sister Agatha took a quick pass down the road that led to the monastery. Something Smitty had said kept playing over and over in her mind. If Natalie was alone and frightened, she’d go someplace where she’d feel safe. The monastery was one possibility, of course, but surely she had her own special places. Kids always did.

Turning around, she went back to the command post. Hector Mondragon, the town’s barber and one of the most plain-spoken men she’d ever met, was talking to the deputy at the radio table when she walked by. He looked up, catching her eye.

“Hermanita,”
he said bowing his head. “Heckuva night.”

She nodded somberly. “No one’s had any luck?”

“Not yet. We’ve taken all the right steps, but I think we need more help,” he said, and pointed upwards. “Smitty led some of the others in prayer a few minutes ago. Then Reverend Peterson, from the Baptist church at the north end of town, decided that the Presbyterians and Catholics shouldn’t be the only ones petitioning God at a time like this, so he started a prayer group at his church. The Good Lord said he had many sheep, and I reckon tonight he’s gonna hear from all of them.”

“Good. The sisters are starting a vigil, too. We’ll storm the kingdom of heaven with prayers until Natalie’s found.”

“I sure hope we find her, and soon. If we don’t, it won’t be long before people will start throwing blame around. The mayor will take heat for not fixing our bad roads, then the police will come under fire for not keeping reckless drivers off the streets, and the list will go on and on.” Hearing someone call his name, Hector strode away quickly. Sister Agatha watched him go, unsettled by the truth in his words. He was right—unity during a crisis seldom carried the seeds of permanence. Time was working against them on every imaginable level.

A
FTER A FRUITLESS NIGHT OF SEARCHING, SISTER AGATHA
finally returned to the monastery. Sister Bernarda had caught a ride with Frances an hour earlier and was waiting for her in the parlor, hoping to hear some positive news. Sister Agatha shook her head in response to her unspoken question, noting at a glance that she hadn’t slept a wink either.

Sister Agatha stopped by the provisory, the pantry, and offered Pax a bowl of kibble. The dog took a few bites, then lay down, opting for sleep instead.

Breakfast was in the refectory, the monastery’s dining room. It was a simple meal—mostly bread, today toasted and with homemade apple butter—plus tea or coffee. A somber mood had settled over everyone. Sister Ignatius was staring at the wall, where a large wooden cross had been hung over a small table that held a skull. Its purpose was to remind the sisters of the shortness of earthly life. Looking over at Sister Ignatius’s plate, Sister Agatha couldn’t help but notice that it was empty. Although fasts were common here, she hated to see the older nuns follow that practice.

With a sigh, she listened as Sister Gertrude, their only speaker, read from the martyrology, following the rule that required them to feed their spirits, not just their bodies, at mealtime. This morning, however, the heroics of the saints failed to give her any comfort.

Morning Prayers followed breakfast. Sister Agatha went to the parlor, giving Sister Bernarda the chance to attend Divine Office in chapel before trying to grab a few hours of sleep for herself. As the soft sounds of chanting filled the empty corridors, Sister Agatha called the rectory, hoping for some good news.

“I was just about to call you, Sister,” Frances said. “Father Ma-honey asked me to tell the sisters that because of the circumstances, he wants to celebrate Mass at a different time today. He was hoping to be there at nine thirty.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure none of us expected him to say Mass this morning at all, though the truth is that we need it more than ever,” she answered softly. “How’s he dealing with the pressure? I never did see him last night.”

“He’s a strong man, but even Father is starting to wear down a little,” she said. “Is Sister Bernarda planning to return to the rectory today so I can go back out and join the search?”

“Yes, I’m sure she is. But we both need a couple of hours of sleep or we won’t be any good to anyone.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Why don’t I save you some trouble and pick her up after Mass?”

Sister Agatha placed the phone down, and after Morning Prayers, went to tell Reverend Mother about the schedule change for Mass. The abbess would give the others the news after Terce, which was said at eight, and commemorated the third hour, when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles.

Back on duty at her desk a few minutes later, Sister Agatha searched for the leather-bound book that listed the companies the monastery did business with, and found it in the bottom drawer of the desk.

Sister Bernarda came in a moment later. “Don’t forget to call the roofing company. Some of the leaks in the chapel seem to have gotten worse. There’s still too much water on the roof, apparently. I wanted to go up there myself, but Sister Eugenia stopped me.”

“I’ll call the roofers and have them take care of the problem. Right now you and I need to get some sleep, then we’ll attend Mass and go back out,” she said, telling her about Frances’s call. Hearing a soft knock, they glanced up as Sister de Lourdes entered the parlor.

“Praised be Jesus Christ,” she said.

“Now and forever,” they both answered.

“I’ve come to work as portress. Both of you need some rest.”

“You look very tired yourself. Did you get any sleep?” Sister Bernarda asked her.

“Some, but since I won’t be going out to search, it’s not as critical for me.”

“The desk is yours, Sister. Will you call the roofer for us?” Sister Agatha asked, giving her the book and pointing out the firm.

“I’ll make all the arrangements. Don’t give it another thought,” Sister de Lourdes said. Before Sister Agatha could go inside the enclosure, she added, “Sister Eugenia said that you’re to take the pills she left for you in your cell.”

Sister Agatha nodded, grateful for the ever attentive Sister Eugenia, who best exemplified the high ideals of every nun at Our Lady of Hope Monastery. Though her work as infirmarian could be brutal, she’d faithfully devoted herself to it. Mixing duty with all the love she had to give, Sister Eugenia’s heart was never far from her Lord’s.

“If there’s any news of Natalie, wake me up immediately,” Sister Agatha said as she headed into the enclosure.

“Me, too,” Sister Bernarda added.

The moment she entered her cell, Sister Agatha saw the pills Sister Eugenia had left beside a cup of water on the dresser. She swallowed them all at once, then went to lay down, pulling the blanket over her. Exhaustion overruled the pain and stiffness in her joints and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

It felt as if she’d only just closed her eyes when she was awakened by a hand on her shoulder. Sister Agatha opened her eyes and saw Sister Bernarda standing over her.

“Did they find her?” Sister Agatha asked quickly, sitting up.

“No, Sister, but Reverend Mother needs us.”

Sister Agatha rose and checked her wristwatch. She’d been asleep almost three hours. “I’ve missed Mass!”

“So did I, but Reverend Mother insisted that no one wake us. Since Natalie hasn’t been found, we’ll need to set out again shortly.”

“Natalie’s missing, the roof is practically on its last legs…It can’t get worse than this,” Sister Agatha said.

When Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda arrived at Reverend Mother’s office, they found Father Mahoney there. Although he was a former wrestler and had the constitution of an ox, the priest looked as if he’d aged twenty years.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night, Father?” Sister Agatha asked, her heart going out to him.

“How can I sleep? My niece is missing, maybe the target of a kidnapper, and my sister is in a coma. Jessica had been getting threatening letters and phone calls, and had even made plans to leave town and start over in another community. If I’d paid closer attention and pressed her to leave sooner, this might not have happened. And now I keep thinking that there’s someplace I should be looking, and if I could just figure out where that is, I’d find Natalie.”

She’d felt exactly the same way last night. Maybe it was just a way of coping with their helplessness and fears. “We’ll do all we can to help you but you have to rest,” Sister Agatha insisted.

“I’m resting now. Sleep is out of the question.”

“All the sisters are praying for your niece, Father,” Reverend Mother said softly. “She
will
be found. Despite the report of another person at the scene, and the threats that obviously have been causing a lot of concern, there’s no evidence to confirm that someone took her. She might have been dazed and just wandered away on her own.”

“Father, why don’t you lie down in the room off the sacristy for just a little bit,” Sister Agatha suggested, afraid that he was in no condition to drive.

“I can’t afford to rest now, but I’ll take a few minutes to pray in the chapel before I go.”

As he stood, Sister Bernarda gave him an encouraging smile. “I’ll go with you, Father. We’ll pray together.”

After they’d left, Reverend Mother looked at Sister Agatha. “Go out and look for Natalie. Do whatever’s necessary. This situation…”

“I’ll do everything I can, Mother.” Sister Agatha walked to the door, then glanced back. Reverend Mother was standing in front of the statue of the Blessed Virgin, rosary in hand, already in prayer.

Her duty clear, Sister Agatha went to the kitchen and woke up Pax. Half of his food still remained, so she fed him by hand until he started eating on his own. “You have to keep up your strength, buddy. We have another long stretch of work ahead of us.”

Sister Clothilde, in her eighties and the eldest among them, came out of the kitchen just then, and leaned down to give the dog a slice of cinnamon bread. Pax ate it in one gulp.

“Thank you, Sister,” she said, not expecting an answer. Sister Clothilde hadn’t broken her vow of silence in over thirty years.

The elderly nun then handed Sister Agatha a small loaf of cinnamon bread covered in plastic wrap.

“Oh, this isn’t necessary.” She knew that Sister Clothilde baked the small cinnamon loaves as a treat for Reverend Mother and Sister Gertrude. But Sister Clothilde refused to take it back, and gently ushered her out of the kitchen.

Sister Agatha ate some of the bread as she went outside to the motorcycle, then, as a sign of hope, stuck the remainder of the loaf in her pocket.

Pax looked at her hopefully. “No. That’s for Natalie. When we find her—and we will—she’ll be hungry.”

As Sister Agatha drove down the long gravel road that led away from the monastery, she moved slowly, searching for footprints down the single-lane paths that intersected the main road. Most eventually led to farmhouses or, in a few cases, small businesses of one variety or another.

In the light of a new day the search went easier, but clouds were massing again, and from the looks of it, it would rain again by mid-afternoon. Although their prayers for rain had been granted, what would have otherwise been a blessing now spelled potential disaster. Even if she was safe from harm, Natalie was bound to be cold, miserable, and hungry. Another downpour would not only worsen her condition, it would obscure what was left of her trail.

Worried and not at all sure what to do next, Sister Agatha pulled to the side of the road and let the engine idle. Realizing Pax was looking at her quizzically, she reached out to pet him. “It’s okay,” she assured him. Bowing her head in prayer, she whispered, “Lord, I know you’re trying to tell me something. This feeling that I’m missing something just won’t go away. But you’re going to have to speak louder.”

Suddenly a bright flash of lightning cut across the base of a gray, flat-based cloud, followed by an earth-shaking crash of thunder. Sister Agatha swallowed, then took an unsteady breath, struggling to lean on logic. It had been coincidence, of course, but still a bit unnerving. Then, as she stared at the cloud that the lightning had emanated from, she suddenly remembered something important. The old adobe church that had been deconsecrated and sold several years ago lay in that direction. These days it was closed—the efforts to restore it were on hold until the local historical society came up with the funds to complete the project.

Natalie had told her once in passing how much she liked the angels that had been carved into the wood over the tabernacle area. If Natalie was on her own and scared, she’d head there. Sister Agatha put the motorcycle in gear and took off again at a quick pace, wanting to reach the old church while the weather held. Hope swelled inside her even as she tried to caution herself against expecting too much. They’d all prayed hard for Natalie’s safety and had asked for God’s blessing on their search—surely it wasn’t out of line to believe they’d received an answer.

Although the old church was quite a way from the accident scene—at least five miles—it wasn’t an impossible distance for Natalie to have walked. If the girl had been afraid and trying to reach safety, she might have remembered that place, especially because of the angels.

Sister Agatha couldn’t ignore the hollows and bumps in the tree-lined lane so she kept her speed slower than she would have liked because of Pax, who was getting jostled around a bit in the sidecar. A few minutes later, she skidded to a stop in the loose gravel at the front of the old church. Even at this distance she could see that the entrance was chained and padlocked. Fighting a wave of disappointment, Sister Agatha got off the bike. As she glanced at Pax, she saw him sniffing the air.

“Let’s go, boy,” she said, giving him the signal to join her.

Pax jumped out of the sidecar in one fluid motion, and ran around to the north side of the church. Looking back at her, he stopped beneath one of the long, narrow, double-hung windows, then began his rapid-fire barking that signalled someone was inside.

The window was open about sixteen inches, ample enough for a girl Natalie’s size to wriggle through, but not an adult. Sister Agatha tugged at it, hoping to widen the opening so she could fit through, but it stuck after moving another foot and refused to budge.

Sister Agatha looked at Pax and considered her options. It didn’t seem likely that Natalie was being held there against her will, but if the girl was inside alone, Pax might scare her. Praying that she wouldn’t get stuck, Sister Agatha decided right then to force her way inside. She was relatively thin—with a bit of luck, she’d manage it.

Two minutes later, feeling bruised and scraped, but grateful to have made it in, she allowed Pax to scramble through, then put him on stay and glanced around. The only light source in the building came through the windows, but between the gloom of the gathering storm and the dirt that had accumulated on the windowpanes, everything looked dim and gray. A dozen or so old pews were pushed against one wall, and the area where the altar had stood was now an empty platform.

“Natalie, are you here?” Sister Agatha called out, hearing a scraping sound coming from the pews.

A head popped up from behind a backrest, and in a heartbeat, a little girl with waist-length brown hair and delicate features came rushing up. She launched herself into Sister Agatha’s outstretched arms, nearly knocking her backwards.

Recapturing her balance quickly, Sister Agatha cupped Natalie’s face in her hands, looking into her large hazel eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked, checking her for injuries.

“Yes, but my mom bumped her head and got cuts all over her face! The man who’d hit us was coming up to the car and Mom told me to run and hide. I did what she said, but then I got lost in the dark. I was so scared! Then my angel led me here and told me to wait. She said someone nice would come and take me back to my mom.”

Despite the warmth of the old chapel, Sister Agatha felt a chill, knowing that someone had threatened the child. She led Natalie closer to the window for another good look at her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”