surrounded by an iridescent halo. Under my feet, luminescent chips of rock littered the path like moon pebbles. To my right, several yards away, was a five-strand barbwire fence wearing a ' Townsend Ranch-Keep Out" sign. To my left were shadows, deep, dangerous,
where the cliff plunged to a platinum ribbon of river far below.
Behind me, Ruby stumbled and slid down a few feet, grabbing at a bush and muttering words that would have made Mother Winifred blush. I turned my attention back to the path, concentrating on putting my feet in the right places. When we finally reached the top, we found a rocky ledge, maybe fifteen feet wide, the barbwire fence slicing across it at an angle. I paused, looking out over the rim. The monastery lay silent and mysterious in the moonlight below, the meadow as silver as if it were blanketed with snow. I could see the lights of Sophia and Rebecca and the flat, square roof of Hannah, and the looping road that tied the complex together. Directly below, on the other side of the silvery braid of the Yucca, was Jeremiah, serene and peaceful in the moonlight. I could see the willow clump where I'd taken cover, and the open, rocky river beach where I was standing when the shot was fired. The silence lay like a blessing across the land.
Maggie stood beside me. "God, it's beautiful," she said. She let out a long sigh. "Please,
please
don't let it be changed." It was a prayer.
I turned and flicked my flashlight across the ground.
"What are we looking for?" Ruby asked.
"I wish I knew." I walked along the fence line. "Some indication that somebody was here, I guess." But if the shooting was deliberate, the shooter would have been careful not to leave any traces. If it was accidental-
The torchlight glinted on something metallic in the loose rock. A cartridge case, brass. "By golly," I muttered. I found a twig and stuck it in the open end, in case there were prints, and used the twig to pick it up. I shone the light on the base and studied the identifying marks around it. 303 brit. Oh, yeah?
It's funny, the things that stick in your mind. McQuaid and I went to a gun show not long ago, and he showed me a gun that was once the pride of the British infantry. An
Enfield, a 303-the only rifle of that caliber, its hand guard removed and the stock shortened to sporterize it. And now I was holding a 303 cartridge in my hand. I narrowed my eyes. Somewhere, just recently, I'd seen a gun like that. Now where-
"What did you find?" Maggie asked, coming over.
I held it up.
"A bullet?" Ruby asked.
"Part of it."
She looked disappointed. "Too bad. If you had the rest of it-"
"That's okay, Ruby," I said, wrapping the cartridge in a bit of tissue. "This is all I need."
"Oh," she said. "Then I guess you don't want this."
"What is it? What have you found?"
She shone her torch on an empty Camel cigarette pack. Now I knew where I'd seen that gun.
I was at Mother Winifred's door before the bell rang for breakfast.
"Good morning, China," Mother said. She was wearing a rumpled green robe and she looked tired, as if she hadn't rested well. "I've just put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"What I'd like," I said without preamble, "is your permission to search Dwight Baldwin's living quarters." I had already made a circuit of the parking lot behind Sophia and confirmed my suspicions.
She stared at me. "You suspect
Dwight
of setting the fires?"
"I don't know about the fires," I said. "But I think he was the person who took a shot at me yesterday afternoon."
Her pale blue eyes widened. "Shot at you! But why?"
"To warn me off," I said. "I know it's Sunday, Mother. But I'd like you to invent a task that will occupy him for an hour or so this morning, so I can search. And I'd like a key to his quarters, if you have one."
She nodded sadly. ' 'You can conduct your search during Mass. Dwight is one of our little flock." She went to the cupboard and took down a large ring of keys. ' 'I'm sure there's a key here
where the cliff plunged to a platinum ribbon of river far below.
Behind me, Ruby stumbled and slid down a few feet, grabbing at a bush and muttering words that would have made Mother Winifred blush. I turned my attention back to the path, concentrating on putting my feet in the right places. When we finally reached the top, we found a rocky ledge, maybe fifteen feet wide, the barbwire fence slicing across it at an angle. I paused, looking out over the rim. The monastery lay silent and mysterious in the moonlight below, the meadow as silver as if it were blanketed with snow. I could see the lights of Sophia and Rebecca and the flat, square roof of Hannah, and the looping road that tied the complex together. Directly below, on the other side of the silvery braid of the Yucca, was Jeremiah, serene and peaceful in the moonlight. I could see the willow clump where I'd taken cover, and the open, rocky river beach where I was standing when the shot was fired. The silence lay like a blessing across the land.
Maggie stood beside me. "God, it's beautiful," she said. She let out a long sigh. "Please,
please
don't let it be changed." It was a prayer.
I turned and flicked my flashlight across the ground.
"What are we looking for?" Ruby asked.
"I wish I knew." I walked along the fence line. "Some indication that somebody was here, I guess." But if the shooting was deliberate, the shooter would have been careful not to leave any traces. If it was accidental-
The torchlight glinted on something metallic in the loose rock. A cartridge case, brass. "By golly," I muttered. I found a twig and stuck it in the open end, in case there were prints, and used the twig to pick it up. I shone the light on the base and studied the identifying marks around it. 303 brit. Oh, yeah?
It's funny, the things that stick in your mind. McQuaid and I went to a gun show not long ago, and he showed me a gun that was once the pride of the British infantry. An
Enfield, a 303-the only rifle of that caliber, its hand guard removed and the stock shortened to sporterize it. And now I was holding a 303 cartridge in my hand. I narrowed my eyes. Somewhere, just recently, I'd seen a gun like that. Now where-
"What did you find?" Maggie asked, coming over.
I held it up.
"A bullet?" Ruby asked.
"Part of it."
She looked disappointed. "Too bad. If you had the rest of it-"
"That's okay, Ruby," I said, wrapping the cartridge in a bit of tissue. "This is all I need."
"Oh," she said. "Then I guess you don't want this."
"What is it? What have you found?"
She shone her torch on an empty Camel cigarette pack. Now I knew where I'd seen that gun.
I was at Mother Winifred's door before the bell rang for breakfast.
"Good morning, China," Mother said. She was wearing a rumpled green robe and she looked tired, as if she hadn't rested well. "I've just put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"What I'd like," I said without preamble, "is your permission to search Dwight Baldwin's living quarters." I had already made a circuit of the parking lot behind Sophia and confirmed my suspicions.
She stared at me. "You suspect
Dwight
of setting the fires?"
"I don't know about the fires," I said. "But I think he was the person who took a shot at me yesterday afternoon."
Her pale blue eyes widened. "Shot at you! But why?"
"To warn me off," I said. "I know it's Sunday, Mother. But I'd like you to invent a task that will occupy him for an hour or so this morning, so I can search. And I'd like a key to his quarters, if you have one."
She nodded sadly. ' 'You can conduct your search during Mass. Dwight is one of our little flock." She went to the cupboard and took down a large ring of keys. ' 'I'm sure there's a key here
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