Bad Samaritan by Aimée Thurlo Page B

had passed out, right?”
    â€œIf anyone else did, nobody’s reported it. To me that suggests that only the sheriff was targeted—” A knock sounded just as she placed her hand on the knob. Millie opened it and stepped back as Frank Marquez came striding in.
    He took them all in at a glance, then fastened his laser-sharp gaze on Millie. “The sheriff no longer has any jurisdiction over the Garcia murder case. I’d hate to find out that you’ve been sharing privileged information.”
    â€œI’ve just informed Sister Agatha that Sheriff Green is currently on suspension,” Millie said.
    It was only a fraction of the truth, and they all knew it. Sister Agatha looked back at Frank. “I also wanted to assure Millie that I’d be passing on any information I uncover.”
    â€œSister Agatha can be an asset,” Tom added. “Her special talents will speed your case along.”
    â€œAsset or not, you’d be better off staying out of this, Sister,” Frank said, meeting her gaze. “A person who commits murder has already shown what he’s capable of, and your habit won’t give you much protection.”
    As Marquez left the room, Sister Agatha glanced at Tom. “Walk me out?”
    â€œSure,” he answered.
    As soon as they were in the parking area, Tom bent down to pet Pax. “What’s on your mind, Sister?”
    â€œHave you remembered any more details about that evening—like maybe your conversation with Robert?” she asked.
    â€œNo, not really,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of weariness.
    â€œTry to visualize him for a moment,” Sister Agatha insisted. “What do you see?”
    â€œA few extras that probably don’t mean a hill of beans,” he answered after a moment or two. “I remember his flashy silver and turquoise watch, the flag pin on his lapel—I had one, too. There was a silver pen in his front shirt pocket, along with some kind of pamphlet that stuck out. I remember it had a line of stars along the top edge—probably some campaign literature. He also had a foam cup in his hand, not that cottonwood branch I saw when I woke up later. When I started to lose my balance he jumped back, maybe afraid I was going to fall on him, and spilled some of his punch. I went out fast after that. I don’t even remember hitting the ground,” he said.
    â€œWhat about your earlier conversations?”
    He shrugged. “A few angry exchanges, accusations, mostly.”
    Sister Agatha noticed he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. “Tom, you’re not holding back on me, are you?” Even before she’d become a nun, Tom had never been able to look her in the eye for long when he was keeping something from her.
    â€œDon’t worry. I know who my friends are,” he said in a reassuring tone—but his eyes wandered again.
    â€œWhich doesn’t answer the question,” she insisted, trying once again to meet his gaze. “You’re deflecting, not to mention playing with your future.”
    â€œI didn’t do anything to Robert,” he said, this time looking directly at her, his eyes unwavering. “You know that’s true.”
    â€œYes, but that wasn’t my question,” she pressed.
    He glanced back to the entrance, where several deputies had just stepped outside. “We’ll talk again if I remember something else. Right now, I need to find a ride home.” With a nod, he walked toward the officers.
    He hadn’t asked her for a lift, and that told her all she needed. For whatever reason, there was something Tom wasn’t ready to tell her, and that spelled trouble. Glancing down at Pax, Sister Agatha smiled at her faithful friend.
    â€œLet go pay Chuck Moody a visit, boy,” she said, climbing on the cycle.
    Recognizing Chuck’s name, Pax barked happily.
    â€œNothing ever worries you,