The Prodigal Nun by Aimée Thurlo

we’re meant to believe. Jane made enemies every time sheopened her mouth. I think someone had a bellyful, followed Jane, then killed her.” As the phone rang, she excused herself.
    Sister Agatha looked around the office and realized that it was now five o’clock and most of the staff had left. Taking Pax, she went down the hall and saw Sister Bernarda and Sister Jo waiting for her by the side door. The janitor, Mike Cuevas, was there with them, keys in hand.
    He gave Sister Agatha an impatient smile. “There you are, Sister Agatha. I have to lock these side doors once after-school activities are over.”
    “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mike,” she said and hurried out along with Pax.
    Sister Jo was smiling broadly. “Sisters, I had so much fun today!”
    “So you like coaching?” Sister Agatha asked, though the answer was obvious.
    Sister Jo nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Most of all I enjoy the kids.” She waved at some students who were walking by on the sidewalk.
    Sister Jo was one of the most contented people Sister Agatha had ever met. Sister Jo, in fact, considered being happy part of her duty to God. He didn’t like long faces, she’d said once.
    “I had to move the car and park across the street because the trash people were coming by,” Sister Bernarda said. “We’ll have to cross the highway, so stay sharp. People are always in a rush to get home.”
    Sister Agatha followed her, though Sister Bernarda’s pace was brisk and it was difficult to keep up. As they stepped around the corner of the building, Sister Bernarda stopped abruptly and pointed ahead.
    “Hey, you! Get away from our car!” she yelled out.
    The tall figure in a hooded sweatshirt across the road was waving something in his hand. A heartbeat later Sister Agatha saw new, large, crudely painted letters on the Antichrysler. “He spray-painted our car!”
    By then the man had broken into a run.

10
    T RAFFIC WAS HEAVY, AND THEY HAD TO WAIT FOR THREE vehicles before making it across the highway. Although the man had disappeared into the trees beyond the parking area, Pax kept straining at the leash. It was nearly impossible for Sister Agatha to keep him from tearing off after the fleeing suspect. His training as a police dog was taking over now.
    “I’ll catch the guy. Give me Pax, and we’ll track him,” Sister Jo said.
    Every joint in Sister Agatha’s body was screaming with pain. Some people’s bodies, like Sister Jo’s and Sister Bernarda’s, were made for running. Hers, afflicted by arthritis, clearly was not. Sister Agatha turned the leash over to Sister Jo, who sprinted off with the eager dog.
    Sister Bernarda, aware that Sister Agatha was having trouble, hung back a second. “Are you okay, Sister?”
    “I’m fine. Go help Sister Jo.”
    Sister Agatha approached the Antichrysler from the front, instantly picking up the distinct scent of aerosol paint. As she came around to the driver’s side, she saw the new spray-painted message on the already scratched door. It read JESUS SLAVES .
    Having seen more than one crude local sign reading PRIVIT DRIVE , she wondered whether this tagger had a spelling problem or had been trying to send some kind of antireligious message.
    Three minutes later Sister Bernarda and Sister Jo returned, breathing hard. Sister Bernarda now had Pax on a tight leash, and she was trying to curb the dog’s excitement. There was nothing Pax enjoyed more than a chase.
    “We tried, but the guy had a head start, and not even Sister Jo and Pax could catch up,” Sister Bernarda said. “He had a vehicle one street over, and all we saw was a glimpse of white through the trees as he tore off.”
    Sister Jo stared at the Antichrysler. “You think he meant ‘Jesus saves,’ or was this some kind of political comment by a Catholic hater?”
    “From what’s been happening lately, I’m not at all sure,” Sister Agatha answered.
    “At least he covered up part of that other threat,” Sister Bernarda added