had any. Everything.”
“But that is all confidential,” Sister Ruth said.
“We can get a warrant,” Grace said.
“We’ll provide it to you,” Sister Vivian said.
“But it’s privileged,” Sister Ruth said, “like the seal of the confession.”
“Ruth, we’re not ordained priests—none of it constitutes a confession. Police can exercise a warrant. And,” Sister Vivian leveled her stare at Grace, “we can trust the detectives will honor the sensitivity of our files and the privacy of the people we are helping.”
“Absolutely,” Grace said.
“We’ll not impede the investigation,” Sister Vivian said to the other nun. “We’ll arrange to provide the information.”
“Thank you,” Grace said. “Our crime-scene people will release Sister Anne’s room later today. But for your security, you must replace the faulty lock on the town house and consider relocating for a time.”
“Detective, thank you, but the sisters will not be moving,” Sister Vivian said. “In fact, while I’m here, I’ll stay in Sister Anne’s room, once we clean it.”
“But for your safety, until we make an arrest. Maybe the university,” Grace said.
“That won’t be necessary. We’ve already forgiven the person who took our dear Sister’s life,” Sister Vivian said. “Like the Holy Mother, we’ll confront evil with love. We hold no hardness in our hearts for the person responsible. Nor do we hold any fear. We offer Mary’s mercy because we accept whatever God has planned for us.”
“We understand,” Grace said. “Still, we’ll talk to the precinct commander about having a couple of patrol cars sit on the town house.”
The nuns nodded as Grace, again, flipped through Sister Anne’s file from the order. It contained next to nothing in the way of personal information.
“Can you tell us anything about her background? This mentions nothing about a father, mother, sister, brother, or what she did before she became a nun.”
Sister Vivian twisted her cross.
“She never wanted to talk about her life. As I recall, she was largely alone in this world until God called her to serve.”
“This says something about Europe.”
“Yes, the Order’s Mother House, or headquarters, was in Paris. Anne Braxton was a young woman living alone in Europe when she entered the Order. Since then our Mother House relocated to Washington, D.C., then to Chicago. Anne had served all over the world before her work brought her here to Seattle.”
“Can we get anything more about her personal history? It’s like she just dropped out of the sky.”
Sister Vivian nodded, promising to send out information requests to all the Order’s missions around the world where Sister Anne had worked. She said that she believed that the nun who’d advised Anne when she was first accepted as a postulant may still be living.
“We’re trying to locate her as well. But Detective Garner, isn’t it more important to determine what happened here in the hours leading to her death than anything in her life from decades ago? Isn’t that how you handle these things?”
Grace looked into the eyes of both nuns.
“Well, until we know the facts, everything is critical. And everyone’s a suspect. That’s how we handle these things, Sister.”
Chapter Eleven
C ome on, come on, show us something.
Sister Anne’s bloodstained Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt, jeans, bra, underwear, socks, and shoes were tacked to a large bulletin board in the Seattle Police Crime Scene Investigation Unit.
The clothes she had died in.
Her silver ring, cross, and rosary were up there, too.
And in one isolated corner: the knife used to kill her.
So far, the case refused to yield a break that would lead to a suspect.
But it would come.
It had to come , Kay Cataldo, a senior forensic scientist with the unit, assured herself, as she examined the board. She mentally crossed her fingers, willing her phone to ring with the call she was expecting.
Cataldo knew her
“But that is all confidential,” Sister Ruth said.
“We can get a warrant,” Grace said.
“We’ll provide it to you,” Sister Vivian said.
“But it’s privileged,” Sister Ruth said, “like the seal of the confession.”
“Ruth, we’re not ordained priests—none of it constitutes a confession. Police can exercise a warrant. And,” Sister Vivian leveled her stare at Grace, “we can trust the detectives will honor the sensitivity of our files and the privacy of the people we are helping.”
“Absolutely,” Grace said.
“We’ll not impede the investigation,” Sister Vivian said to the other nun. “We’ll arrange to provide the information.”
“Thank you,” Grace said. “Our crime-scene people will release Sister Anne’s room later today. But for your security, you must replace the faulty lock on the town house and consider relocating for a time.”
“Detective, thank you, but the sisters will not be moving,” Sister Vivian said. “In fact, while I’m here, I’ll stay in Sister Anne’s room, once we clean it.”
“But for your safety, until we make an arrest. Maybe the university,” Grace said.
“That won’t be necessary. We’ve already forgiven the person who took our dear Sister’s life,” Sister Vivian said. “Like the Holy Mother, we’ll confront evil with love. We hold no hardness in our hearts for the person responsible. Nor do we hold any fear. We offer Mary’s mercy because we accept whatever God has planned for us.”
“We understand,” Grace said. “Still, we’ll talk to the precinct commander about having a couple of patrol cars sit on the town house.”
The nuns nodded as Grace, again, flipped through Sister Anne’s file from the order. It contained next to nothing in the way of personal information.
“Can you tell us anything about her background? This mentions nothing about a father, mother, sister, brother, or what she did before she became a nun.”
Sister Vivian twisted her cross.
“She never wanted to talk about her life. As I recall, she was largely alone in this world until God called her to serve.”
“This says something about Europe.”
“Yes, the Order’s Mother House, or headquarters, was in Paris. Anne Braxton was a young woman living alone in Europe when she entered the Order. Since then our Mother House relocated to Washington, D.C., then to Chicago. Anne had served all over the world before her work brought her here to Seattle.”
“Can we get anything more about her personal history? It’s like she just dropped out of the sky.”
Sister Vivian nodded, promising to send out information requests to all the Order’s missions around the world where Sister Anne had worked. She said that she believed that the nun who’d advised Anne when she was first accepted as a postulant may still be living.
“We’re trying to locate her as well. But Detective Garner, isn’t it more important to determine what happened here in the hours leading to her death than anything in her life from decades ago? Isn’t that how you handle these things?”
Grace looked into the eyes of both nuns.
“Well, until we know the facts, everything is critical. And everyone’s a suspect. That’s how we handle these things, Sister.”
Chapter Eleven
C ome on, come on, show us something.
Sister Anne’s bloodstained Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt, jeans, bra, underwear, socks, and shoes were tacked to a large bulletin board in the Seattle Police Crime Scene Investigation Unit.
The clothes she had died in.
Her silver ring, cross, and rosary were up there, too.
And in one isolated corner: the knife used to kill her.
So far, the case refused to yield a break that would lead to a suspect.
But it would come.
It had to come , Kay Cataldo, a senior forensic scientist with the unit, assured herself, as she examined the board. She mentally crossed her fingers, willing her phone to ring with the call she was expecting.
Cataldo knew her
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