Flash Point. Metsy Hingle

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      “The terms of her will are pretty straightforward. Sister Grace had very little in the way of assets. She left directions that any personal savings she had at the time of her death be given to the Catholic church and earmarked for use in the education of children.”

      Which is what she would have expected of Sister Grace, since the nun had put a great deal of stock in the importance of education. She’d called it the great equalizer.

      “With the exception of a few items that she left to other nuns in her order, Sister Grace left the remainder of her personal possessions to you. I’m afraid their value is more of a sentimental nature than a monetary one.”

      “I understand.”

      Peter opened the file folder on his desk and pulled out an official-looking document. “I’ll dispense with reading the entire will and just skip to the part that pertains to your bequests, if that’s all right with you.”

      “That’s fine,” she told him.

      “To my former student and beloved friend, Kelly Santos, I leave my rosary given to me by my own mother when I took my vows. I also leave to her my watercolor titled Serenity, which has brought me much pleasure…”

      As though in a daze, Kelly sat in silence while Peter read from the will. The pain and emptiness she’d felt upon learning of Sister Grace’s death washed over her anew. Only years of learning to discipline her emotions stopped her from blubbering like a baby in front of the attorney.

      “…Finally, I leave to Kelly Santos all my correspondence and journals to do with as she wishes. It is my hope that she will remember me with fondness when she reads them and that through my words she will someday discover the bonds of family that she so richly deserves.” Peter put down the document and looked across the desk at her. “You were obviously very special to her.”

      “She was very special to me, too,” Kelly told him.

      “I’m sorry for your loss, Kelly.”

      Not trusting herself to speak, Kelly nodded.

      “We have the items she mentioned here and can turn them over to you now if you wish. Or if you’d prefer, I can arrange to have everything shipped to you in New York.”

      Kelly swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat. “I’d like to have the rosary now. And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it if you would just ship the rest of the items to me in New York. I’ll reimburse you for any shipping charges involved.”

      “I’ll see to it.” He buzzed his assistant, gave her instructions about the shipping and had the rosary brought to his office. “May I?” he asked, indicating the plain satin pouch that contained the rosary.

      “Of course.”

      Peter opened the pouch and emptied the prayer beads into his palm. The clear crystal beads and pewter crucifix glimmered beneath the light of the desk lamp. “Very pretty.”

      Kelly thought of all the times she’d seen Sister Grace fingering the beads of that rosary. And when Peter started to return it to the pouch, she said, “Please, I’d like to see it.”

      Peter dropped the rosary into her open palm.

      Kelly closed her fingers around the beads. And without warning, the world seemed to spin out from beneath her. Suddenly she was no longer sitting in Peter’s law office. Instead, she was in an empty church—no, a chapel—she realized as she looked around at her surroundings.

      And then she saw Sister Grace. Kelly’s heart stopped as she realized the rosary had connected her to the nun. And there was Sister Grace, kneeling in the pew, her head bowed and her rosary beads in her hands.

      “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst all women, and blessed art—” Sister Grace stopped mid-prayer and started to turn around.

      “No! Don’t turn around, Sister,” a woman’s voice said from behind her.

      A flicker of anger raced through her blood. “What are you doing here?” the nun demanded.

      “This is a church, Sister. I thought everyone was welcome.”

      “This is a chapel and the evening services are over,” the nun countered. “What do you want?”

      “Maybe I want to pray. Since God has seen fit to throw this nasty little surprise at me and mess up my life, I thought maybe if I prayed real hard, He’d make the problem go away. What do you think, Sister? Will God listen to my prayers?”

      “God hears all of our prayers.”

      “Ah, but the question is does He answer them?”

      “He answers them. But the answer isn’t necessarily the one we want,” Sister Grace replied.

      “I guess that means you haven’t changed your mind about giving me her name.”

      “I’ve told you, your information is wrong. I can’t help you.”

      “That’s what I thought you’d say. And since I can’t risk having you warn her about me, I’m afraid I have no choice but to make sure that you keep quiet.”

      And before Sister Grace could move, the woman plunged a needle into her neck.

      “Kelly? Kelly, are you all right?”

      Kelly dropped the rosary. She felt the world spinning beneath her once more. And then someone was gripping her by the shoulders, calling her name. She blinked, tried to regain her balance. Finally when she was able to focus, she saw Peter standing in front of her, a worried expression on his face.

      “Are you okay?”

      “Yes,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

      “You don’t look fine,” he informed her. He picked up the rosary, returned it to the pouch and handed it to her. “You want to tell me what happened just now?”

      “What do you mean?” she asked, unsure of what she had said, what she had done.

      “One minute you were holding that rosary and the next minute you seemed to…to zone out.

      “I can’t explain it. And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” After stuffing the pouch with the rosary into her bag she stood, eager to leave. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

      “Kelly, are you sure you’re all right? You’re as white as a ghost.”

      “I’m okay. Really,” she assured him. “Thank you for everything, Peter,” she said, and after shaking his hand, she raced out of the office.

      Once she stepped outside into the cool November air, Kelly attempted to hail a taxi while she digested what she had just learned.

      Sister Grace hadn’t died of a heart attack. Someone had murdered her.

      Anger churned in Kelly’s stomach as she recalled the nun’s last moments and her fear. Somehow, some way, she had СКАЧАТЬ