The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,75

then.” I push the Mute button again. “Jim, he’ll be right here.”

Then I set the phone down and back away.

After a moment, I turn and run.

Inside, with my back against the kitchen door, Jed appears again, his hand clamped over his mouth. “What’s wrong, Mom? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” I say, wiping my eyes. “In five minutes, I want you to look outside, and if the phone’s still by the shed door, bring it inside.”

“What about you?” he asks.

“I’m going to bed.”

At the top of the stairs, I find St. Rick hanging on the wall again. Eli must have brought him back up. I pull him down again and take him into the bedroom, intending some kind of desecration. In the end, I prop him against the lamp on my nightstand. With the light off, a faint luminescence remains in the room, enough to detect the shine of the painting’s surface.

“Who’s the saint now?”

“The sad fact is, you’re being taken for a ride.”

“I don’t understand,” I say.

Across the exotic hardwood desk, Eric Ringwald fixes me with his benevolent gaze. The summons was unexpected. I would have called Holly except I thought she would be here already. Instead, I’m alone across from Eric, who’s been doing his due diligence and has some news to report.

“I know some people in the Baltimore Police Department, so I made a few calls. This Mission Up place, it’s a blight on the neighborhood. If they could shut it down, they would.”

“I know it isn’t pretty—”

He holds up the silencing hand. “And this nun of yours, Mother Zacchaeus? She’s not a nun at all.”

“I had a feeling she wasn’t in an order or anything like that. I’m not familiar with how things work in other churches. Besides the Catholics, I mean. Not that I’m familiar—”

“What I’m saying is, she’s not a nun. Not a Catholic nun or any other kind. Her real name is Rosetta Harvey, and she’s got a rap sheet down to here. Possession, dealing, prostitution, you name it, going back more than twenty years. This is not a good person, Beth. She is not at all what she seems.”

I open my mouth to reply. Nothing comes.

“When she slapped you, you’re lucky that’s all she did. She’s done time for assault too. The guys I spoke with, they couldn’t make it any clearer. This is not somebody you want to get yourself involved with. You’re lucky you got that girl out of there when you did.”

The kindhearted secretary comes in with a tray of coffee. I pour cream into mine, no sugar, stirring slowly with the little spoon provided.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“The world is full of these people, Beth. Trust me, I deal with them every day. They’re out to get something for nothing, cheat the system, feed their ego, whatever. She’s got herself an evil empire down there, a captive audience to rule over. I don’t know what the scam is, and I don’t want to know. Neither do you, quite frankly. The depth of evil in this world would shock you, believe me. I’m just happy I was able to help this time.”

I sip my coffee. I’m sure it’s good, probably carried by hand from the dew-swept mountains of Jamaica. But I can’t taste a thing.

“I gave Holly a call and asked her to come over,” he says. “I thought you might need someone to talk to. And let me just say, I hope you don’t let this get to you. Just because this lady turned out to be a fraud doesn’t mean your instinct to help wasn’t sound. I’d never forgive myself if I thought you might walk out of here hard-hearted. The world needs more people who really care. Hold on one second.” He lifts the phone, which has just begun to chirp. “Beth, I’m gonna have to take this.”

I take my coffee into the lobby. The nice lady asks if I’d like a refill. I shake my head.

“It would be wasted on me.”

I don’t know what to make of this. My head is reeling. Of course she is a fraud. The ridiculous getup, the passive-aggressive manner, the bullying, a whole host of red flags. It’s not like I missed them. I just didn’t connect the dots. I let my newfound sense of purpose get ahead of me.

“I feel stupid,” I say.

“You know what,” the secretary says. “I feel that way every time I walk out of there. That man has a head on his shoulders, don’t