She’d made mistakes—at least in the eyes of others. And on the nights she couldn’t sleep, she considered other ways she might have been able to do things. There were always options. But in the end, she had to accept that she’d broken rules—and perhaps, made mistakes—because someone was in trouble. She couldn’t sit back and watch a tragedy happen if she could stop it, even if that meant bending—or breaking—the rules.
It had taken her a long time to get to this point. She believed in the system, she believed in justice. But what happened when the system and justice didn’t align? Which was more important? The system that upheld justice but sometimes faltered or the idea that justice could always be obtained, though sometimes at a price?
“You’ve never walked an easy road,” Noah said after a minute. “I think you know that.”
“I do.”
They drove in silence awhile longer, but it was a comfortable silence. Noah said, “I received your wedding invitation over the weekend.”
“I hope you’re still in town at the end of October.”
“Not sure, but if not I’ll fly out. You deserve to be happy. You and Sean have made yourselves a nice life here.”
“We like it. I love my family, but this is the first time I’ve felt like I’m truly on my own.”
“I was an only child. I’ve always felt like I was on my own.”
He sounded a bit sad about it, but before Lucy could ask questions, his phone vibrated. He answered. “We’re almost in Freer,” Noah said. “Ten minutes or so.” He listened. “That’s serious. How—” He stopped talking, listened, then said, “I’ll talk to the priest first. But don’t you think—” He stopped again. “I understand. Can you send her file to Lucy? Thanks.” He hung up. “That was Rick.”
“You sound concerned.”
“Rick didn’t wait for us—truthfully, I wish he’d have let me handle this situation in person. Apparently he and Walsh have been friends for a long time.” He hesitated, as if he was going to say something else, then cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, he spoke to the sheriff after getting the runaround. Walsh was arrested for breaking and entering, assault on a peace officer, and resisting arrest. She’ll be arraigned at ten this morning.” It was just after eight now. “Rick tried to speak with her, but the sheriff said no, she had a public defender and would be allowed to make a call after her arraignment.”
“You sound—irritated.”
“Over and above that Rick just tipped our hand? He’s smarter than that.” Noah typed the address for Our Lady of Sorrows into his GPS. The computer shifted their route and gave them eighteen minutes to destination. “Rick wants to know what Walsh and the priest were doing last night—before she’s arraigned. I suspect he’s going to try to get the charges thrown out, though how he can do that I have no idea. Rick’s sending you information on Walsh.”
Lucy pulled out her phone. Rick’s email had just come through. She opened and scanned the file, giving Noah the highlights. “Siobhan Walsh, born in Chantilly, Virginia, to a US Marine Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Walsh and Iona O’Malley, of Galway, Ireland. Has a half brother, deceased, killed in action in Afghanistan. A half sister, Andrea Walsh, stationed at Quantico.” That named sounded familiar to Lucy, but she didn’t remember why. “Thirty-four, carries dual citizenship. US and Ireland.” She glanced up. “That’s unusual.”
“Her mother was an Irish citizen.”
She looked back at her phone. “Siobhan has an active US passport, most recently came in through San Antonio from Mexico City on Friday morning. She’s a freelance photojournalist, has sold photos to it appears every major newspaper and television network. Won several awards.”
“Rick said she was a big deal in that world, but focuses on missionary work.”
“She has an affiliation with the Sisters of Mercy, a group of religious social workers based outside Monterrey, Mexico, who primarily do missionary work in southern Mexico and Central America. Some dangerous areas, it seems.” Lucy scanned. “Most recently she had a series of articles in the New York Times Sunday edition about a village in Guatemala that the charity helped rebuild after an earthquake caused a mudslide that cut off the only road. Oh.”
“Oh, what?”
“She has a record—she’s been arrested twice for assaulting a law enforcement officer. Once in DC and once in Los Angeles. No details here. She was arrested for trespassing multiple times in three different states, got time served. In the last twelve months, she’s only been in the States for seven weeks. Her permanent address is in Chantilly, Virginia, in a house she co-owns with her half sister.”
Lucy put her phone down. “Siobhan grew up mostly in Mexico with her mother, who was a missionary for the Sisters of Mercy. She was a nurse, though there’s nothing that says she was also a nun—which is doubtful since she was married.” She paused. “Actually—there’s nothing in here that says her parents were married. That’s probably irrelevant. Anyway, when Siobhan was fourteen she moved to the States to go to school and live with her father, and a year later her mother died. No cause stated. That must have been so hard for her.”