False Witness (2 page)

“Did the lights flicker in the parlor, too?” Sister Agatha asked, quickly joining her.

“Yes,” Sister Bernarda answered. “This goes to prove what the electrician said—our main electrical panel is overloaded. I decided to check for overheated outlets.”

“I’d intended on asking NexCen for an advance. But with all the problems we’re having making our deadlines because of this hacker, now’s just not a good time,” Sister Agatha said. “I
left Sister de Lourdes with Merilee, and I’m on my way to talk to Reverend Mother. Are you okay here?”

“Yes, but would you give Mother a message for me?” Seeing Sister Agatha nod, she continued. “My father was an electrician, and I learned quite a bit from him. I could do the rewiring at the outlets and the light fixtures myself, adding the pigtails and connectors needed to connect aluminum to copper. A licensed electrician would still have to sign off on my work, but maybe Bobby Fiorino will give us a reduced rate if I do the bulk of the work,” she said. “Ask Reverend Mother what she thinks.”

“I will.”

Sister Agatha hurried down the hall to Reverend Mother’s office, then knocked on the open door. “Praised be Jesus Christ,” Sister Agatha said.

“Now and forever,” Reverend Mother answered. “Come in, child.” Reverend Mother called all of the sisters “child” according to their monastic custom. As prioress, she considered them all her spiritual children.

Sister Agatha sat down on the wooden chair across from the desk.

“The lights have been flickering again,” Reverend Mother said with a sigh.

Sister Agatha recounted the conversation she’d had with Sister Bernarda about the electrical work.

Reverend Mother nodded. “That’s a good idea. Go ahead and speak to Mr. Fiorino and let me know as soon as possible if he agrees.” Reverend Mother paused, then continued. “That NexCen contract is turning out to be a blessing for us. I never realized how crucial that income would become. That, God willing, will pay for the monastery’s repairs.”

Sister Agatha started to tell her about the latest problems in the scriptorium, then changed her mind. It was being handled, and she knew that there was something else on Reverend Mother’s mind. That was why she’d originally been called to this meeting.

“The winery next door has been put up for sale by its owner, John Gutierrez,” Reverend Mother said at last. “The Archbishop called this morning to tell me himself. He’d heard that the buyer interested in the property wants to put up apartments or townhomes there. He contacted Mr. Gutierrez on our behalf, hoping to convince the man to give us some kind of buffer zone so we can maintain our privacy … and silence.”

“The name sounds familiar. John Gutierrez … hasn’t he donated funds to us in the past?” Sister Agatha asked.

Reverend Mother nodded. “Yes, and he’s consented to meet with one of our externs to discuss the issue. I’d like you to go. I’ll have the time and place for you later today.”

Sister Agatha left Reverend Mother’s office with a heavy heart. Between the wiring, their finances, the hacker, and now this, it felt as if their monastery was under siege … and maybe it was.

Fortunately, the rest of the day proved to be less stressful and, except for a few more power fluctuations, the work in the scriptorium proceeded in a timely manner.

After Compline, the last liturgical hour of the day, the Great Silence began. Sister Agatha had remained with Sister Bernarda in the small chapel, kneeling near the altar in private prayer. Sister Bernarda had been troubled about something all week. Knowing her prayerful support was needed, Sister
Agatha stayed with her sister in Christ. Attending to the needs of another was at the heart of the second most important commandment—to love thy neighbor as thyself.

Although she’d come with the best of intentions, as time passed, Sister Agatha had to force herself to stay awake. Duty was paramount, yet the stillness in the monastery after Compline was absolute, and it made remaining alert a monumental challenge.

Sister Agatha took a deep breath. Although she had no idea what was bothering Sister Bernarda, God did, and He’d know how to fix things. Better to pray this way—without knowing. But she would make one plea—
Blessed Lord, don’t let me fail her and you by falling asleep during my watch
.

Suddenly a thunderous crash shook the entire building. For a moment, the possibility that she’d received an instant answer to her prayer left Sister Agatha dumbstruck. Then she heard the ragged rhythm of a car motor somewhere close by and saw a light shining through one of the back windows of the chapel.

There’d been an accident. Sister Agatha jumped to her feet and hurried toward the door, Sister Bernarda a few steps behind her. Almost immediately Sister Agatha detected the smell of motor oil. In the glare of a bright light, she saw a cloud of dust around the twisted metal and adobe bricks that had comprised the monastery’s wall and gates. In the haze, jammed into the ruined barrier, was a big sports utility vehicle, one of its headlights still working.

“We need to help whoever’s inside,” Sister Bernarda said, hoisting her long skirt and sprinting toward the vehicle.

Sister Agatha saw the SUV’s driver’s side door burst open. A tall, shadowed figure in a hooded sweatshirt jumped out of
the vehicle. Shielding his eyes with his forearm, he ran away from them, quickly disappearing into the dark beyond the scene of the crash.

“Did you get a look at his face?” Sister Agatha asked, catching up to Sister Bernarda.

“No, but don’t worry about that now. We need to see if there’s a passenger,” Sister Bernarda said, racing around to the open door and checking inside.

A moment later she eased back out of the SUV, shaking her head. “There’s no passenger, but there are a bunch of empty beer cans scattered on the floor,” she said disgustedly. “The emergency airbag was set off, but I didn’t see any blood anywhere, so the driver probably wasn’t badly injured.”

“I’ll call the police,” Sister Agatha said. “Maybe you should switch off the ignition and light in case there’s a fuel leak.”

Sister Agatha hurried back inside the monastery’s parlor. Although she was sure that the cloistered sisters had been awakened by the crash and would be worried, the Great Silence made its own demands. She couldn’t exactly run around making an announcement now.

Wondering how to handle the situation, she walked quickly through the chapel. Then, at the entrance to the corridor, she found Pax, the monastery’s large white German shepherd dog, pacing nervously back and forth. Although alerted by the noise, Pax had learned not to go into the chapel or make any sounds after Compline.

Pax stayed with her as she hurried to the parlor and dialed the county sheriff’s office. Since there weren’t any victims at the scene, the desk sergeant warned her that it would be at least twenty minutes before a unit would respond. She wasn’t surprised. The sheriff’s department had been forced to
implement new budget cuts and was chronically understaffed these days.

Sister Agatha grabbed a flashlight from the desk drawer. She was about to go back outside when she heard a light rap on the grille that separated the cloister from the monastery’s front parlor.

Reverend Mother was standing there, silently waiting for an explanation. After living with her for more than a decade, Sister Agatha could almost hear the thoughts that reverberated behind Reverend Mother’s silences as easily as she could her spoken words.

“A big passenger vehicle crashed through the front gates, Mother,” Sister Agatha whispered. The Great Silence could be broken in case of emergencies, and informing Reverend Mother of the crisis at hand was not only justified, it was imperative. “We think the driver was drinking, but he’s run off. Fortunately, there were no passengers. I called the sheriff’s department and now I’m going to join Sister Bernarda outside to wait for an officer to arrive.”

Reverend Mother nodded.
“Benedicemus Domino,”
she said, praising God before breaking Silence. “Will you be able to close the gates once the car is removed?” she asked softly.

“No, Mother, the gates are in pieces. But I’ll make sure Pax has free run of the grounds tonight, and I’ll sleep in the parlor until everything’s fixed. He’ll bark if he sees a stranger, and I’ll be able to hear him clearly from here. We’ll be safe.”

With a nod, Reverend Mother slipped away into the cloister as silently as she’d come. Their
alpargates
, rope-soled sandals, made almost no sound on the brick floors.

Sister Agatha flipped on the floodlights that illuminated
the gate area and parking lot, then hurried back outside to join Sister Bernarda, Pax at her side.

“Twenty minutes,” she told Sister Bernarda, who understood without further explanation. “Reverend Mother’s been told.”

“The driver won’t get away. They’ll track him down easily enough from the registration.”

“Unless the SUV was stolen,” Sister Agatha replied. Using the flashlight, she moved farther down the road, beyond the gravel, examining the footprints the driver had left in the dirt.

“I think we had a visit from Bigfoot,” Sister Agatha said, pointing.

Sister Bernarda glanced down and nodded.
“Drunken
Bigfoot.”

“But he didn’t run like someone who was
that
drunk…. He never staggered or stumbled as he raced out of here,” Sister Agatha said, recalling what she’d seen.

Sister Bernarda shook her head. “Don’t complicate things. Take one sniff inside that SUV and the smell of beer will tell you the whole story. If the driver hadn’t been drunk he wouldn’t have lost control of the car.” She paused then added, “What we have to do now is figure out a way to restore the gates. The next drunk that comes along might end up in our parlor. Have you thought of that?” she added brusquely.

The harshness of Sister Bernarda’s tone surprised Sister Agatha. She looked over at her fellow extern nun, trying to figure out if it was just a reaction to the shock—or something more. To her, Sister Bernarda, their ex-marine, had always been the toughest of the tough—unbreakable. But the truth was that, lately, she hadn’t been herself.

Pushing those thoughts aside and concentrating on the problem at hand for now, Sister Agatha added, “Do you think that the hacker who has been harassing us is somehow responsible for this? Maybe he decided to go for a more hands-on approach.”

“But how would he even know that the monastery’s handling NexCen’s orders?” Sister Bernarda countered.

“There was a notice in the business section of the local newspaper right after we got the contract,” Sister Agatha answered, then shook her head. “No, you’re right. I’m just complicating things. This was undoubtedly just the work of a drunk.”

Sister Bernarda remained silent for a moment, then gestured to flashing lights in the distance. “Looks like we got lucky. There’s the police.”

Sister Agatha glanced back at the monastery, worried. “They’re all awake in there now, praying their hearts out.”

“That’s a good thing. Heaven knows prayers are needed now, not only for the person who did this, but for our monastery, too,” Sister Bernarda said, walking to the crumbled wall and staring at what was left of several dozen big adobe bricks. Both sections of the steel gate were on the ground—bent or snapped in two. Welds had parted and bare metal was showing in several places. The locking mechanism in the center had been mangled and was now useless.

“How are we ever going to get the money to fix this, on top of everything else?” Sister Bernarda added, not really expecting an answer. “We got a new roof last year, but now the rest of the place is falling apart. That electrical fire we had in the kitchen wall was just a wake-up call. Dealing with this mess on top of getting new wiring is going to take far more than we have available in our sinking fund.”

“Aluminum wiring … all the time we’ve been here it’s worked for us—until now. Who knew it was a potential fire hazard?” Sister Agatha replied with a sigh.

“We might have gotten away with it for another twenty years if we hadn’t overloaded the system by adding computers, printers, work lights, and the air conditioner in the infirmary.”

“The air conditioner was a necessity now that Sister Gertrude’s heart condition has worsened. As far as the scriptorium equipment—well, what choice did we have? We have to support ourselves by the work of our hands. That’s part of our Rule,” Sister Agatha answered. “But there’s no sense in worrying about this. We’ve done all we possibly can. Now the rest is up to God.”

“You’re right. He’ll provide whatever we need.”

“He always has and He always will,” Sister Agatha said.

Sister Bernarda scrutinized the immediate area. “Right now you and I have to find a way to secure our perimeter,” she added, sounding very much like a marine again.

“I’ve got that covered,” Sister Agatha answered. “I’m going to sleep in the parlor tonight, and Pax’ll stay outside. If anyone wanders into our grounds the dog will let us know.”

“Good plan,” Sister Bernarda said. “But I should be the one to sleep in the parlor,” she added, glancing down at Sister Agatha’s hands, which were swollen from rheumatoid arthritis. “You did something for me by joining your prayers to mine in chapel earlier. Let me do this for you.”

“I’m okay. This looks a lot worse than it feels,” she said, glancing down at her hands. “But I sure wish you’d tell me what’s been troubling you. Maybe I can help.”

“We’ll talk later. Here comes the deputy now,” Sister Bernarda said as a patrol car came up the road.

Seconds later, a woman in her late twenties, with brown
hair tied back into a ponytail, climbed out of the squad car. She left the engine running and the headlights on to illuminate the crash scene. Clipboard in hand, she approached them. “Sisters, I’m Deputy Susan James. Did either of you see what happened here?”

Sister Bernarda briefed her in clipped sentences. “You’ll notice the smell of beer and the empties in the SUV. The driver’s gone—ran off as soon as we came outside. He left the key in the ignition, and I switched off the power and lights,” she said, and gave her a description of the man.

“I’m going to call it in, then take a look around,” Deputy James said, picking up her handheld radio and making her report.