ST. ANNES COLLEGEST. ANNES COLLEGE FOR BLOND Catholic Girls, as Audrey thought of it, was a leafy, redbrick girls college in St. Paul, a short walk from the Mississippi. Davenport lived somewhere in the neighborhood, Audrey knew. The newspaper article didnt say exactly where: just the Highland Park neighborhood.
Maybe to be close to the nun, she thought.
Audrey had spent four unhappy years at St. Annes, gettingfinished. Shed needed the finish, with her Red River farm background. And the unhappiness hadnt counted for much, since she couldnt ever remember being happy. Shed plowed through her courses, a smart, reasonably pretty brunette, and had carefully weeded out the likely husband prospects from St. JamessSt. Jamess College for Blond Catholic Boys.
Wilson McDonald had been the result of her four years of winnowing.
ON THE SOUTHWEST SIDE OF THE CAMPUS, THE RESIDENCE squatted in sooty obscurity. A near-cube built of red brick like most of the other buildings on campus, it housed the declining numbers of the sisterhood of nuns who ran St. Annes. The newspaper article, The Pals of Lucas Davenport, had mentioned that Sister Mary Joseph lived on campus, and continued to wear the traditional black habit on public occasions, including the classroom, though she sometimes went out in civilian clothing when working in area hospitals.
Audrey had never seen her in anything but traditional dress, and wasnt sure shed recognize her in civilian clothing. Still, she thought, she could pick her out.
Audrey parked on the street, and after sittingfor a moment in the dark, looking up and down, she got out, leaving her purse but carrying her cell phone, the dowel rod held by her side. She walked to the Residence along the sidewalk, and, in the dark space between streetlights, turned into the parking lot and moved quickly to the far corner of the building. She stood there, between two tall junipers, an arms length from the ivy-twined walls the bare ivy like a net of ropes and strings climbing the bricksand listened. She could hear voices, but far away; and a snatch of classical music from somewhere. More thefeelof the conversation than the actual words and notes. The parking lot itself held only a dozen cars, most of them nunlikeblack and simple; along with a few civilian cars.
She remembered this moment from the other times. The moment before commitment, when she could still back away, when, if discovered, she hadnt done anything. The moment where she could wave and say, Oh, hello, I was a bit confused here, Im just trying to find my way.
And the thrill came from piercing that moment, going through it, getting into the zone of absolute commitment.
She took the phone from her jacket pocket, and punched the numbers in the eerie green glow of the phones information screen.
St. Annes Residence. A young womans voice. Audrey had done this very job, answering the phone as a student volunteer, two nights a week for a semester, six oclock to midnight.
Yes, this is Janice Brady at Midway Hospital. We have a family-emergency call for a Sister Mary Joseph…
I think Sister is in chapel…
The chapel was in the Residence basement. Could you get her please? We have an injured gentleman asking for her.
Uh, just a moment. Actually, itll be two or three minutes.
Ill hold…
Then she heard more voices, close by. A man came around the corner, said something, laughed, walked into the parking lot.
Shit. This could ruin everything…
The man waved, walked to a car, fumbled with his keys, got in. Sat for a moment. Then started the engine, turned on the lights, and drove to the street.
And Sister Mary Joseph was there: Hello? Curiosity in her voice.
Is this Sister Mary Joseph, a psychologist at St. Annes College?
Yes, it is…
Theres been a shooting incident, and one of the victims asked that you be notified. An Officer Lucas Davenport.
Oh no! How bad is he?
Hes in surgery. I really dont have any more information; a priest on the staff has been notifiedwe assumed he was Catholic.
Yes, he is. Is the priest doing extreme unction?
No, Officer Davenport is in surgery, but we thought a priest should be notified; its purely routine in these cases…
Ill be right there.
If you will check with the information desk at the front entrance, not the emergency entrance, you will be directed to the surgical waiting area.
And the nun dropped the phone on the hook.
AUDREY BRACED HERSELF AGAINST THE WALL. IF THE nun came out the main entrance, the entrance closest to the parking lot, and headed straight toward the lot, shed pass Audrey at little more than an arms length. Audrey would have only a moment to determine if she was alone. If she wasnt, Audrey would follow her to Midway Hospital and try therethe nun would have to walk some distance to the main entrance, and would probably be dropped off.
She was rehearsing it all in her mind when she heard the main door open. No voices, just the clank of the push bar on the door, and the door opening. Three seconds later, a woman in a black habit swept by, and down the walk. Audrey instinctively knew she was alone: she was moving too quickly, with too much focus, to be with another person. Audrey swung out from behind the junipers, her heart gone to stone in her chest, a step and a half behind the nun.
And she struck, like an axman taking a head.
The heavy rod hit the nun on the side of the head, glanced off, hit the nuns shoulder; the woman sagged, her knees buckling, one hand going to the ground. She started to turn.
And Audrey struck her again, this time full on the head, and the nun pitched forward on her face… Audrey lifted the dowel rod, her teeth bared, her breathing heavy, andstruck at the nuns head again, but from a bad angle: the rod this time bounced off the side of the nuns head and into her shoulder.
With building fury, with the memory of all these decades of slights and slurs against her, with the thought of all the people whod held her back and down, with her father, her mother, with all the others, Audrey struck again and again, hitting the nuns neck and back and shoulder…
And heard the clank of the door again, froze, looked wildly aroundnowhere to run, not at this instant, this was the very worst moment for an interruptionand stepped back in the shadow of the junipers. The girl came around the corner no more than a second later, saw the nun, said, Sister! and bent over her.
And Audrey struck at her, hitting the girl on the back of the head. Like the nun, the girl pitched forward, onto her face. Audrey hit her again, and again, breathing hard now. Stopped, hovered over the two motionless women for an instant, jabbed at the nuns leg with the end of the dowel rod, got no response, then scuttled away. Around the corner, onto the sidewalk, down the sidewalk to the car. Nobody on the sidewalk. Inside the car, dowel rod on the floora sudden touch of panic: she felt her pocket. Yes! The phone was thereand the car started and she eased away from the curb.
This was always the hardest part, staying cool after an attack. With her heart beating an impossible rhythm, Audrey drove slowly off the campus, to the Mississippi, left to the bridge and across to Minneapolis.
She stopped once, on a dark street, to throw the dowel rod down a sewer. She went on, dropped the cotton gloves one at a time out the window. She hadnt seen any blood from either of the women, but it had been dark: she should burn these clothes, or get rid of them, anyway.
That would have to waitshe could wash them tonight, immediatelyand throw them out tomorrow.
But now, there was more to do.
Twenty minutes later, headlights on, she pulled into herdriveway, and into the darkened garage. She dropped the garage door, groped to the kitchen entrance, went inside and flipped on the light.