The Prodigal Nun Read Online Free Page A

sees most, and people in trouble often find it easier to talk to a nun,” she said, then with a sigh added, “I just wish I’d done more to help her.” She’d be praying for forgiveness for a long time on this.
    They arrived at a modest residential neighborhood in northern Bernalillo a short time later. The midsized pueblo-style houses dated back to the fifties and sixties. Cars and pickups, most of them older models with faded paint and small dings, filled the driveways. Several of the low block walls around thehouses had been spray-painted with graffiti, painted over, then vandalized a second or third time. The owners were obviously unable to keep up with the taggers.
    “A working-class neighborhood,” Sister Agatha said, mirroring what she was sure he was thinking.
    “Help me out. I’m looking for 4432 Calle de Lupe. The street numbers defy logic in this old development.”
    “I think it’s the white stucco house with the Taos blue trim,” she said, pointing ahead. “Sister Bernarda came to visit a few months ago, and I remember her mentioning the Taos blue paint.”
    “So Sister Bernarda knows them?”
    “Yes, but she hasn’t spoken to Jane as much as I have. As I recall, she only stopped by that one time to deliver a prayer book to them.”
    They parked in the empty driveway, and Tom went up to the front door, Sister Agatha a few steps behind him. Tom knocked hard, but there was no answer. He tried the doorbell, too, but it didn’t seem to work.
    “I’ll check out back. It’s a warm day. Maybe he’s on the patio,” she said.
    Stepping off the porch, she walked around the corner. The backyard had an elliptical terra-cotta concrete patio, a gas barbecue, and a small café table with four metal chairs—but no Louis.
    Sister Agatha stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the metal and glass screen door. She could make out someone moving through the kitchen.
    “Louis?” she called.
    Suddenly the door flew open, catching her hard on the left shoulder.
    “Help!” she cried out, tumbling off the porch. As she fell, the man raced past her, and she caught the strong smell ofsweat. A figure in a gray hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses raced around the corner of the detached garage and disappeared down the alley.
    “Tom!” Sister Agatha struggled to untangle her legs from the folds of her habit and scramble to her feet.
    Tom came rushing around the corner of the house. “What the…?”
    She pointed toward the alley. “Burglar, gray sweatshirt. Big guy.”
    “You okay?”
    “Yes, go! He’s getting away!”
    Tom sprinted across the yard, then around the garage.
    The sound of his footsteps soon faded, and by then she was on her feet, rubbing her aching shoulder. At least nothing was broken—except the glass on the back door.

4
    S EEING A NEIGHBOR PEERING AT HER FROM A SIDE WINDOW , Sister Agatha waved frantically and hurried around the low wall to the identically styled pale green house on the next lot. Sheriff Green needed help, and she didn’t have the monastery’s cell phone with her.
    As Sister Agatha approached the neighbor’s porch, the door swung open. “Sister, what’s going on over at the Sanchezes’? I heard a loud bang, walked to the window for a look, and saw you on the ground. Did you fall off the porch?”
    “I was pushed. A man rushed out of the house and slammed into me. Unless Louis has grown a foot in height since I last saw him, I just surprised a burglar. Sheriff Green chased after him, but I’d like to call the police and get more help.”
    The woman nodded and pointed to the phone on the side table. Sister Agatha immediately called 911, but before she’d saidmore than a few words she learned that Tom had already called for backup. Deputies were on their way.
    “Thank God the Sanchezes weren’t home,” The woman said to Sister Agatha, her eyes big with concern. “But what were you and the sheriff doing there, Sister…?”
    “I’m Sister Agatha, and we were looking