CHAPTER FOUR

Angel tossed and turned. He kept drifting off to sleep only to wake fitfully with a beautiful face haunting him. But he couldn’t tell if it was Teri or Bernie. He got up and splashed cool water on his own face.

He sat in the chair in front of the air conditioning vent and thought about the two women.

He recalled Colin Dowd’s sunburned face, evidence of his recent vacation, and his bright blue eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

The small caliber bullet wound in the middle of Colin’s forehead turned out to be a .25 caliber hollow-point, the same kind that had been extracted from the door of Teri’s car. It had exploded inside Colin’s skull. A close quarters assassin’s bullet.

Colin’s boss and co-workers had described him as being brash and cocky, but with a winning personality. If Colin had a fault, Martin Kelso said it was promising more than he could deliver. If he got in trouble, it was Teri who bailed him out.

When Angel checked Teri’s apartment, he searched for a glimpse of her in her lavish lifestyle. Pale buttery shades in various textures from silky sheers to heavy weaves defined her space.

Teri had been fond of having her picture taken and the camera loved her. Tall and slim yet athletic looking, she had a deceptively simple style that took time and money to achieve. Teri’s appointment book was filled with manicures, pedicures, massages, facials, body waxing, personal trainer, haircuts and a diet and exercise regimen that was followed with a religious fervor. The making of Teri Slaughter was an enterprise in itself.

Still, Angel was in awe of her beauty and style. He stared at her photographs until he could almost feel her silky hair on his fingertips. He smelled the perfumes in her dressing room and opened her lingerie drawer. Nothing was good enough for Teri Slaughter, especially Detective Angel Garcia.

Angel had expected to have the case wrapped up long before Sister Bernadette returned from Ireland, but that hadn’t happened.

This lack of results had led him to be slumped in front of the air conditioner in a humid motel room in San Antonio that smelled a little of mold and bleach, unable to cool down enough to sleep. Unable to get Teri Slaughter and Bernie off his mind.

Something was bothering him and he couldn’t quite get a grasp of it. When he’d first met Bernie he’d been amazed by her resemblance to her sister. She sat across from him, looking sweet and slender and he’d been overwhelmed by the urge to protect her.

But he’d gotten a flash of something strong underneath her seemingly fragile exterior. He’d never met a nun who couldn’t hold her own. She was wearing Teri’s face, translucent skin and a cropped version of Teri’s hair. The eyes were disarmingly clear, ringed by a fringe of unadorned lashes and brows.

Angel jerked upright, grinning in the dark. The brows had been professionally done at one time and were growing out. He was glad that he’d been raised with four women and was familiar with their grooming routines.

“Hello Teri,” he whispered.

#

Angel Garcia leaned against the stone balustrade under the portico connecting the schoolrooms to the chapel. Classes were over and the uniformed students poured out the double doors. Some of the girls cast flirtatious glances at Angel as he waited.

Most of the students had thinned out before Teri made her appearance. “Detective Garcia?” She sounded surprised.

He took the hand she offered, holding it longer than was necessary. “Bernie, I thought you were going to call me Angel.” He gave his name the Spanish pronunciation.

“Angel.” She smiled as she tried to say it his way.

He liked the way her lips formed his name. “Where can we talk privately, Bernie?”

“The memorial rose garden beside the chapel.” She gestured to a path that wound through beds of fragrant roses of every variety.

“Let’s go for a walk, Bernie.”

They strolled silently, not looking at each other and not touching, although Angel had to stifle his desire to reach for her hand again.

She led him to a stone bench under an ancient oak tree and sat down, averting her gaze. She was anxious, not controlled as she had been at the café.

Angel stretched comfortably, extending his arm across the back of the bench. He stared at her, determined to wait her out. He’d invaded her turf without invitation.

She turned to him. “Why are you smiling, Angel? Is something funny?”

“Why did you decide to become a nun?” He watched her color rise. Not unattractive.

“You called me out here to ask me about my vocation?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Bernie. You must have had lots of choices. I was just wondering what made you think you could be a nun.”

“You don’t think I’m a nun?” she snapped.

“Not like any nun I’ve ever known.”

She looked flustered. After a moment she said, “I was in college when I made the decision.”

“Did you date in college?” He thought that question should stir her up.

“Not a lot. Teri was the popular one. I was the bookworm. Why do you ask?”

“I’m having trouble with your decision to serve the Lord. Most pretty women would choose to be what Teri became. You could have made the same choice.” He could almost see her spine stiffen.

She raised her chin and gazed at him steadily. “I don’t have to justify my choices.” Her voice rose in timbre.

“No, but if I had gone to school with you, I would have been knocking on your door day and night. You could have my heart at your feet.” Consider that fair warning, Chica.

Spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. “That’s a little dramatic, Detective.”

“It’s my Latino nature, Bernie. We’re a very passionate people. We feel all of our emotions strongly. Love, anger, jealousy, desire.”

She squirmed under his intense scrutiny. “Are you flirting with me, Detective?”

“Would you like it if I was?”

“It would not be appropriate. I have to go now.” She rose, walking back to the chapel with a very straight back.

Angel watched her departure. She was much tougher than she looked. He hoped he was right about her true identity.

He’d have a lot to apologize for if he was wrong.

#

Teri gasped for breath. It was all she could do to walk at a moderate pace. Getting away from Angel and his prying questions was her only goal. He must have learned her true identity. Otherwise, he would never have spoken to her as he did.

Why was he flirting with me? She knew he found her attractive, but would he make a play for a nun? Did he know she wasn’t? Did it matter to him either way?

“Good evening, Sister Bernadette,” Father Conlyn broke into her thoughts. “You look upset. Is something wrong?” He stood smoking his pipe under the portico in front of the chapel.

“I’m fine, Father.” She leaned heavily against the fluted pillar and expelled the breath she’d been holding.

“Mother Immaculata told me your sister was missing. Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing helpful, Father.”

“What is your sister’s name?” He tapped out the ashes from the bowl of his pipe.

“Teresa. Her name is Teresa.” Now I’m lying to a priest. I’m going to fry.

“I’ll pray for her, Sister Bernadette.” He tucked the pipe into his breast pocket and entered the chapel to hear confessions.

Teri glanced around and saw Angel Garcia watching her from the end of the walk. He lifted his hand as she turned and fled into the shadows of the chapel.

Father Conlyn entered the confessional. Several nuns and a few area residents wandered into the chapel.

Teri crept behind one of the curtains. When he opened the window she poured her heart out.

“My dear child,” he said. “You cannot continue to live like this.”

“I know, Father,” she said. “But I feel that I have no choice. My life is in danger and I’m so afraid.”

“The students say your classes are excellent. You must have a gift for teaching.”

“I’m trying my best, Father but I know I’m a complete fraud.”

“Indeed.” Father Conlyn was silent for a long moment. “I cannot advise you to endanger yourself. Are you asking for absolution?”

“No, Father.” A sudden thickness in Teri’s voice betrayed her emotion. “I needed to confide in someone who could keep my confidence and bolster my courage. It seems to be fading.” Tears rolled unnoticed down Teri’s cheeks.

Father Conlyn cleared his throat as though he, too, was having trouble managing his emotions. “Let me bless you and pray for your safety.”

“Thank you, Father.”

#