Sister Eve and the Blue Nun (24 page)

“Sister.” It was a voice that was familiar but not one that she immediately recognized.

“I'm calling because you weren't in chapel again.”

There was a hesitation and Eve felt her pulse quicken.

“You missed lauds and Mass yesterday, and today you're absent from the Office of Vigils. I'm just wondering where you are.”

“Detective Earl Lujan.” Eve whispered his name.

“So, anyway, if you'd like to talk about Sister Maria and what the victim had in her possession at the time of her death, what it all means, or if you just want to run past some of your ideas or theories about suspects, you can reach me at this number.”

There was another pause.

He cleared his throat.

“I saw you leave,” he added, surprising Eve with his announcement. “It doesn't really matter, of course; you're certainly free to
come and go as you like. I just thought it was a strange time to drive away, that maybe you're upset or . . .” He paused again. “I don't know.”

Eve closed her eyes. She had been seen making her exit, and she worried that maybe he had followed her or maybe he had told Bootskievely and Daniel.

“I haven't told my partner, if that's what you think,” he said as if he had read her mind. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

She listened closely as he gave his phone number and then ended the call. And then, without fully understanding why, she played the message again. And oddly enough, one more time. Finally, she powered off her phone once again and placed it on the seat beside her.

“What is this?” she asked herself, referring to the unusual emotions she felt, the flips her stomach was making, the strange way the detective kept showing up in her thoughts.
I do not need this
, she thought, without completely understanding what
this
actually was.

She yanked the rearview mirror so that she could look at herself. She smoothed down her hair, pulling loose strands behind her ears, and slid her fingers across her eyes. She rubbed her chin, sliding her hand down her throat until she felt the crucifix necklace she wore, the one Earl Lujan had noticed and consequently revealed his own sacred jewelry. She fingered the cross, watching herself in the mirror, and then placed the pendant under her shirt and flipped the mirror back.

He had watched her drive away from the monastery at three in the morning. He had not followed her, at least she didn't think he had, and he did not tell his partner or probably anyone else what he had seen. And yet he was concerned. Or so he said. Maybe he
was just suspicious. Maybe he was watching her, actually had her under surveillance, because he found her with Anthony's letter and because he could tell she knew more than she was saying.

Detective Bootskievely didn't concern Eve; he seemed to discount her knowledge or interest in the murder and seemed to be paying attention to the concrete things of the case, the toxicology report, fingerprints, witnesses. The other detective, however, Earl Lujan, the rookie officer from Taos, seemed to have his attention pointed right at her. He showed up everywhere she was. He let her keep the letter and then he took it. He knew when she didn't go to chapel. It was weird, she thought, but she knew she needed to be careful and she needed to control these strange responses every time he showed up.

Eve gently slapped her face a few times, trying to be as alert as she was able, not just to try to find John Barr and then talk to him to see if he knew anything about Anthony, but also not to let a police detective use her to get to the monk. She didn't want to be some avenue to their suspect, some source of information of where they might find Anthony to interview or arrest him. She knew she had to be at her best, careful not to be followed or tripped up.

And yet, even as she imagined that Detective Lujan distrusted her and was keeping his eye on her because of suspicion, she couldn't help thinking there was something else between them, something she wasn't sure she knew how to name or understand.

Eve was about to start the engine and drive back to the monastery. She didn't know how to find out which cabin was John Barr's, and the thought of knocking on all three doors looking for the missing monk seemed more and more to be a wild-goose chase. She
figured she should simply go back to Pecos. She decided that she could probably do more to help Anthony's case from there.

She was putting the car in gear to move forward when suddenly a white truck pulled out of the driveway of the second cabin, a white truck with a broken taillight. She kept her grasp on the gearshift and froze. She couldn't believe what, or rather whom, she was seeing.

It was John Barr, the red hair and beard obvious as he stopped and made the turn. Eve stared in shock as he drove away with no one else in sight.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Eve pulled out after the truck turned off the narrow forest road and onto the state highway, heading south, back to Tererro or perhaps to Pecos, she didn't know. Slowly and carefully she followed it to the end of the road and watched the truck just as it disappeared down State Road 223 about a half mile beyond her, the road curving beside the river.

She sat and waited, realizing she had two options. She could follow John Barr, hoping he would stop at the café or go back to the monastery, and she could talk to him there, ask him about Anthony, let him know that she was trying to help the monk, get to him before the police, hope he would let her come back with him to his house or take her to where Anthony was. The second option was slightly more dangerous but an option nonetheless: while he was gone she could go to his house and take a look around.

After all, she thought, maybe Anthony was inside. Maybe John had gone out for supplies or food for them both, and while he
was out of the house she could take the chance to talk directly to Kelly's brother alone. Maybe the two of them could discuss his decision to leave the monastery so that she could find out what he was thinking. Maybe if she had a few minutes alone with him, he could explain what he knew about Kelly's present situation and even suggest who the killer might be. They could talk about what the police were doing, what action they were taking, and maybe she would even be able to convince Anthony to go back to Pecos with her. Maybe she could just go up to the house, knock on the door, and finally locate the missing monk.

She put the truck in reverse and backed down the dirt road until she got to the second driveway, where she made the turn and continued driving in reverse up the path. She figured heading straight out might come in handy if John Barr returned and she was caught on his property. She was pretty confident that even if he came back and parked in front of her, trying to block her, the driveway was wide enough in some places that she would be able to skirt past him. She knew, however, with her driving skills, she could do that only if she was heading forward.

She backed all the way up the long driveway, in between the ponderosa pines, the Douglas firs, and the Engelmann spruces, snaking beside a small creek, feeling a slight incline, gaining elevation, all the way to the front of the cabin. She stopped, put the gearshift in park, set the brake, and turned off the engine. She yanked out the keys and held them in her hand as she tried to decide whether to take her phone too. She quickly grabbed the cell phone and placed both items in her front shirt pocket.

She stepped out of the truck and softly closed the door, leaving
it unlocked, making it easier to jump in if she needed to get away in a hurry. She stood in the driveway and looked around, listening for any sounds of people or animals. There was only silence. Like her favorite camping spot just a few miles up the road, it was very quiet where she stood.

All she could hear was the babbling noise of the running creek, the cawing of a small gathering of crows overhead, and the sound of leaves rustling around the forest floor in the late-morning breeze. There were thick rows of evergreen and pine trees on both sides of the house, and she couldn't see anything or anybody else around her. It was a very private location, and it was easy to see why a man troubled with demons and who seemed so socially awkward might feel comfortable there.

She turned her attention to the man's house. The cabin was rustic and small, not like many of the weekend retreats and vacation homes built along the Pecos River in that area of northern New Mexico. It did not have a large wraparound porch with wicker furniture or a tall stone chimney. There were no river rocks artistically placed for a front walkway or railings crafted from twisted blond aspen branches.

This was a workingman's house, Eve thought, nothing fancy, and nothing particularly beautiful. It was not built for show, not built to entertain city friends or give the appearance of wealth and ease that the second homes in the area often did. But to Eve, the cabin looked sturdy and dependable, a simple residence built with his own hands by a man who lived in the woods and wanted shelter and privacy, and nothing more.

She walked up three steps made with stones to the front door,
glancing in the large window beside it as she knocked. A small homemade bench sat beneath the window. A snow shovel leaned against it. She waited and watched. There was no movement from inside. She knocked again, this time calling out Anthony's name, hoping that he would realize it was her and come out.

“Anthony,” she said, a bit louder the second time. “It's me, Eve. I just want to make sure you're okay.”

Nothing. She tried the doorknob to see if it was unlocked. It was not.

Eve knocked again, waited, and then moved on the top step to her left as far as she could. She leaned in and pressed her hands against the glass in the window, trying to get a good look. She blinked a few times to get her eyes accustomed to the darkness from inside, and in a few minutes was able to get a good view of everything in that part of John Barr's cabin.

The front room was large, with a woodstove on the southern end; a sofa was against the window, and there was a chair, a big recliner, a small table with a stack of magazines or books on top, on the north side, facing the window. There was a narrow kitchen straight ahead from where she stood, with a stove, a refrigerator against the back wall, and a small round table and one chair situated in the corner. There appeared to be no one inside.

She headed down the front steps, returned to the driveway, and moved around to the rear of the cabin. There was a back entrance that looked like it must open to the kitchen, an old door with two small windows just at eye level. She tried turning the knob, but that door was locked as well. She moved around past the kitchen and to the south side where another window was located; this one
was about four feet above her head and, to Eve's delight, cracked open. A screen was in place but a little bent, so it didn't appear to be secure. Here, she decided, was her opportunity to take a quick look inside.

She walked around to the front of the house to make sure John Barr hadn't returned home. When it was clear that she was still alone, she pulled the bench from beside the front door all the way around to where she had seen the window and placed it underneath. She took in a deep breath, readying herself for what she was about to do.

First she positioned the bench, making sure it was sturdy and secure, and when she was confident it was so, she stepped up onto it. It was just the right height as she stood face-to-face with the window that was apparently located on the back wall of John Barr's bedroom. Without too much effort she reached into the slight opening, pressing against the screen, and with just a little shove, knocked it to the floor. She then placed both hands underneath the window and was able to push it open, allowing herself enough space to crawl through. Headfirst, she entered the bedroom, landing on the floor right beside a twin-sized bed, making a loud thump. She rose up and immediately gasped as she came nose-to-nose with a black dog, a big one, quietly watching everything from the bed next to where she lay.

THIRTY-EIGHT