Free Saint's Gate by Carla Neggers Page B

boat. “It can’t get swept to sea, can it?”
    “Not until the water rises,” Colin said.
    “I don’t know much about boats. The police scoured every inch of the grounds and the surrounding coastline for evidence and possible entry and exit points. They’re coming back soon for another look. I’ve racked my brain trying to think how anyone could have gotten in and out of here without being seen.”
    “Probably not as hard as it looks,” Colin said, “especially in the fog.”
    Sister Cecilia didn’t seem satisfied. “Still, you’d think someone would have seen something. I wish I hadn’t panicked. If I could have gotten close enough to get a better description of whoever it was I saw, the police—”
    Colin didn’t let her finish. “The police would have two dead nuns to deal with instead of one.”
    Emma gave him a sharp look, but his blunt words seemed to snap Sister Cecilia out of her self-recrimination. She stood straight, color high in her pale cheeks. “I should be working. We’ve temporarily closed our shop and studio in Heron’s Cove, out of respect for Sister Joan. I teach classes there three days a week, but I’m also writing a biography of Mother Linden. I have plenty to do….” She lowered her eyes, her lashes so fair as to be almost imperceptible. “You’d think I’d find comfort in the routines of our lives here.”
    “Yesterday was a shock for you,” Emma said quietly.
    Sister Cecilia pursed her lips and lifted her chin, as if steeling herself to what she had to do. She pointed at the sparkling water. “Isn’t the difference between yesterday and today amazing? The weather can change so fast. Our lives, too. Yesterday I woke up to fog and a sense of mission and purpose. By evening, it was all gone. The fog, the mission, the purpose.”
    “Give yourself some time,” Emma said.
    “I’m so keyed up,” Sister Cecilia added, half to herself, “and yet I feel so aimless.”
    Colin Donovan looked ready to jump off the rocks, Sister Cecilia’s introspection obviously sorely testing his attention span. Emma, on the other hand, understood the struggles the young novice was facing. “Sister,” she said, keeping her tone firm but neutral, “have you told the police everything you know about what happened yesterday?”
    “I answered all of their questions.”
    Colin raised his eyebrows at her careful response, but Emma continued before he could barrel in. “That’s good, but you want to be sure you haven’t left anything out. If there’s something on your mind, now’s the time to speak up.”
    Sister Cecilia shivered, running her slender fingers over the needles of the gnarled juniper. “Boats were riding out the bad weather in the cove below the meditation garden, but it was so foggy, who would have seen anything? Who would even be looking? I’d be huddled in a cabin staying warm. Anyway, for all we know, the person I saw could have been hiding for hours right here among the rocks.”
    “Do you think the attack on Sister Joan was premeditated?” Colin asked.
    “I don’t think what happened yesterday was a spontaneous, opportunistic act. I certainly don’t think she fell down the stairs and hit her head.” The young novice frowned suddenly, as if just tuning into Colin’s presence. “Are you a police officer?”
    He held up a foot, the ends of his jeans dripping. “Got a towel around here anywhere?”
    “In the retreat hall.” She waved a hand vaguely back toward the main convent grounds. “It’s not far.”
    “Thanks. Lead the way, ma’am.”
    Emma didn’t think Colin Donovan needed a towel or anything else, but Sister Cecilia blushed, obviously taken in by him. “Please, you can just call me Sister Cecilia. I’m a novice here.” She bit her lower lip. “Unless I’m asked to leave.”
    Colin started past the spruce tree. “Why would you be asked to leave?”
    “Mother Natalie wants me to seek counseling after—after yesterday. I don’t think that’s