Secrets in the Shallows (Book 1: The Monastery Murders) (3 page)

The boy’s heart leapt into his throat as he spun around and nearly jumped out of his shoes. Timmy found himself standing nose to nose with Mother Superior Mary Ellen.

“Well, are you done or not, Timmy? It’s getting a little late for you to walk home, and the storm is coming in fast.”

With his hands on his chest, he took a few deep breaths. “Yes, Mother. I’m done. You frightened me. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Maybe next time you’ll learn to abide by the rules in the house of God and in this school. Cleanliness is a way people show self-respect. You will do good to remember that in the future.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She briefly touched the side of his peach-fuzzed cheek. “It seems like you’re all grown up now. It sometimes happens before you even know it’s upon you.”

The corners of his mouth lifted as Timmy tried to smile.

Clutching her hands together, she sighed. “Remember, there are rules you must abide by everywhere. I expect you to honor the rules we have here. Be an example to the younger ones. Okay?”

“I’ll do better, Mother.”

Barely acknowledging his response, she continued, “If you plan on going to college after graduation, then you will make it so much harder on yourself by not keeping this in mind.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Mother.” Chewing on a small bit of his lip, he stood there quietly, eagerly awaiting her approval.

The old nun stared at Timmy intently. “I inspected the floors you cleaned, and they looked pretty good.” Resting a hand lightly upon his shoulder, she gave him a faint smile. “You can go now, and please be careful. Do you want me to call your parents, and have them pick you up or let them know you’re on your way?”

Inserting an arm in his red jacket, he responded, “No, that’s okay. It’s not gonna’ take me long. Besides, the snow isn’t here yet. I’ll be home before it starts coming down harder.”

“Okay. Have a good Christmas break, Timmy. Bless you, my boy.”

“You too, Mother.” He smiled softly at her as she pivoted and quickly walked through the doorway. Soon she had vanished from sight. Within seconds, he heard the front door close behind her.

Heading to the coat rack, Timmy grabbed his winter coat and put it on. As he reached to pick up his hat, he heard the front door open and then slam immediately.

Immediately, a gruff voice shattered the building’s peace and serenity. “Where are you, boy?” Heavy footsteps in the other room approached Timmy as the familiar voice sought him out.

Making a beeline to the custodian’s closet, Timmy barricaded himself inside. The odor of pine cleaner and bleach burned his nose and eyes as he opened the door a crack and peeked out. Then closed it again. He could feel his heart pounding as he locked the door from the inside. He squatted down in the corner behind the mop pail and wet floor signs.

Timmy silently cursed his luck as the increasingly agitated voice came closer and closer.
Of all the people from whom I would need to hide as I try to head home.

The person he most dreaded in all the world was angry and looking for him. The barrel chest of the stalker heaved while calling out for him. “Come out, Timmy! I know you’re in here.”

Sweat beaded up on Timmy’s forehead as doors opened and slammed shut.

Wearing a sinister grin on a corpulent face, dark eyes darted in every direction. “Come on out, Timmy! I’ve got a surprise for you.” The childish quip echoed down the hall.

Timmy’s body quivered as the heavy footsteps vibrated the floor, causing one of the mops to fall down.

Dressed in the familiar dark habit, the stalker smirked and headed directly to the closet. A gloved hand attempted to turn the doorknob. Finding it locked, the threatening figure grunted, foregoing all pretense of kindliness.

“Open this door, Timmy! I know you’re in there.”

Timmy buried his face between his knees as the assailant pounded on the door. With one swift kick, the door flew open and exposed Timmy’s hiding place.

“I knew I’d find you here, Timmy. Did you tell anyone about what you saw, boy?”

“I didn’t see anything. There were only shadows!” Timmy insisted.

The nun barked back at him harshly. “I don’t care if you saw anything or not. You won’t get a chance to tell anyone about what happened that night.”

With his bright blue eyes wide with fear, Timmy pleaded, “No! Leave me alone! I didn’t see anything. I swear it!”

With determination, the large nun grabbed him so violently that Timmy’s arms were nearly wrenched from their sockets. The boy yelled in pain as the nun dragged him across the floor.

“
OUCH!
No! Let me go!” Tears flowed down his reddened cheeks as he tried unsuccessfully to get up.

The nun scoffed at the helpless young man while kicking the front door open. “You’re coming with me. It doesn’t matter how much you yell. No one can hear you!”

Timmy’s protests echoed off of the monastery’s old stone, as he was dragged backwards down the stairs. The heels of his black uniform shoes hit every step with a loud thud. Timmy’s lanky legs relentlessly kicked and flailed as he fought feverishly to get away. He tried to stand up and run, but the furious nun grabbed him by his short, dark brown hair.

Timmy held onto the nun’s wrists and screamed in agony as blood began to seep from his clawed scalp. “Someone, please help me! Mother Superior, come back! Help me!” he yelled in desperation. “Please, let me go! I didn’t see anything. I swear it!”

Timmy’s screams were lost as they fainted away into the sounds of the squeaking shutter hinges swaying in the gale force winds. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! I won’t!” he begged.

The sound of the boy struggling was overcome by the storm as his pleas for help were lost in the incoming blizzard’s howling winds.

C
HAPTER
2

Wringing a cloth napkin with her hands, a petite woman sat at the dining room table, staring at a cup of luke warm coffee. Her crystal blue eyes had lost their normal brightness because of the worry she felt for her missing son.

Although in her early forties, Margie Fields was still a handsome woman, despite of the smeared mascara on her cheeks, and unkept long dark hair carelessly pulled up in a blue clip. All that she could think of was that her son was somewhere in the raging storm, not safe and sound at home as he should be.

Timmy should’ve been home no later than 4:30 this afternoon. God, I hope he is all right. Where can he possibly be? How many people have died in the past few years after getting lost in one of Maine’s blizzards? One ... Two ... Three ... Hmmm ... Actually, I think there were five; at least those are the ones I can recall.

Many of them have gotten stuck in snow that was so deep that they couldn’t get out before freezing to death. One body wasn’t found for three months. That was horrible. Then there was that awful mess with that suicide at the pond, too.

No! Stop thinking like that! I can’t focus on death. Timmy is just lost. He’s waiting out the storm until he can return home. He’s getting warmed up by someone’s fire, and their phone is dead so he can’t call. I can’t lose faith yet. God, please keep him safe for us. He’s our only son.

“Where is he?!” Margie shouted as she pounded her fist on the table, startling her husband.

Sitting by the crackling blaze that he had started earlier in the living room fireplace, Herbert Fields was reading his newspaper in his recliner. He fumbled with the paper as he got up quickly and moved into the dining room toward his wife.

“Are you all right, Margie?” he asked with concern.

She smiled and said, “Sorry, dear. I hate having to wait around for Timmy to come home. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

The antique clock that adorned the wooden fireplace mantel chimed six times. Herbert Fields, who was in his early fifties, tried to hide his growing fear of receiving bad news. He could only try to remain strong for his wife. Pursing his lips, he asked, “Have you called the school, sweetheart?”

“I’m doing that right now, Herbert,” Margie replied. Silently saying a prayer, she dialed the numbers on the telephone, eager to find out her son’s whereabouts.

* * * *

Mother Superior Mary Ellen, Head Mistress of St. Francis Catholic School, sat at her old fashioned wooden desk. A crucifix hung directly on the wall behind her. She was working late, filling out paperwork and going through applications. With all of the crime and problems in the world, more and more families were seeking the protection and quality of private schools to educate their children.

With total dedication to the Catholic church, Mother Superior expected nothing but the best out of her students. She ran the school with a stern hand and strict discipline when needed. As she focused on an application, the phone interrupted her train of thought. She put her pen down on her desk and picked up the receiver, aware that her secretary had already gone for the day.

“Hello? St. Francis Catholic School ... This is Mother Superior Mary Ellen.”

“Mother Superior, this is Margie Fields — Timmy’s mom.”

“Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”

A soft quivering voice spoke. “Do you know if Timmy is still there, Mother Superior? Timmy called before school was out and informed us that he had to stay late. It’s getting dark, and he hasn’t made it home yet. I am getting concerned since the weather is getting so bad.”

“Oh Margie, I spoke with him just as he was getting ready to leave about a couple of hours ago,” Mother Superior volunteered.

“Mother, I’m really getting worried. Would you mind having someone search around for him, just in case? It would help me feel a little better if I know where he is.” Margie jerked her head back from the receiver as she heard a loud popping noise in her ear. Suddenly, the telephone connection went dead.

Unaware that no one could hear her on the other end, Mother Superior continued to speak into the receiver. “Of course I will, dear. I’ll have some of the sisters look around for Timmy. I’d have the custodian do it, but he’s on vacation. Try not to worry. I’m sure he’ll make it home safely.”

Bewildered by the silence, Margie hung up the phone, rubbed her forehead in desperation, and pulled the back the drape.

Having returned to his recliner, Herbert stood up and placed his hands on his hips. His tall, lanky body caused him to tower above the petite woman he had been married to for twenty-three years.

“What did Mother Superior say?”

“Apparently, she spoke with him just before he left. I asked her to search around for him, but I didn’t get an answer from her. I think she might have hung up on me.”

Puzzled, Herbert scratched his head and stared down at the floor. “That doesn’t sound like Mother Superior. She wouldn’t usually hang up like that. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. The weather is playing havoc with the phone lines.”

He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch just before sitting back down. Leaning back in his chair, the he closed his eyes in despair.
I told that boy to come straight home. I hope he didn’t get lost in the blizzard,
he thought to himself.

“You may be right, Herbert. I also called his girlfriend, Lisa, but she hasn’t heard from him either. She said that she will tell him to come home if he calls her. I’ve spoken to everyone I know. I just hope nothing has happened to him.”

Water filled Margie’s blue eyes like a reservoir behind a dam. Unable to hold back any longer, a flood of tears finally gave way and cascaded down her cheeks uncontrollably. Panic stricken, she felt as if someone had reached in and pulled out her heart.

Herbert rose from his chair feeling as if his heart was in his throat. He slowly his way over to his wife, and reached out towards her. “It will be all right, dear.”

Burying her face in her hands, Margie continued to sob. Her elbows rested on the table as Herbert enveloped her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the back of her head and whispered softly, “Shhh … It will be okay.” He continued to do his best to console her, even though a heaviness weighed on his own heart.

“Look at me, Margie,” Herbert said as he moved to look her directly in the eyes. “It’ll be okay. I bet he’s on his way home right now. Everything will be just fine.” The words that he spoke were as much an attempt to convince himself as they were to encourage her.