Sister Celeste appeared to be on edge about something, and Joanna was content to let her babble on about the weather and what a nice drive she had had without further interruption. Finally, pausing in the middle of her verbal torrent, the nun took a deep breath. “I suppose you’d like me to tell you why I’m here,” she said.
Joanna nodded. “That would be helpful. I’m assuming it has something to do with Lucy Ridder’s Saturday-morning phone call.”
“Yes,” Sister Celeste admitted. “Lucy did call me that morning.”
“And you spoke to her for some time,” Joanna prompted.
“That, too. About fifteen minutes or so, I’d say. She was very upset.”
Perhaps she had just shot her mother, Joanna thought. “Where is Lucy now?” she asked.
“I know, but I can’t say,” Sister Celeste returned. “Or rather, I won’t say. There’s a difference.”
Joanna’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, there certainly is a difference. Sister Celeste, I must tell you that Lucy Ridder is wanted for questioning in regard to the death of her mother, Sandra Ridder. Are you aware that interfering with a homicide investigation and harboring a criminal are both serious felony offenses?”
Sister Celeste leaned back in her chair. “I am aware of that,” she said. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Why?”
Sister Celeste merely shrugged and said nothing.
“If you can’t or won’t say, why are you here?” Joanna demanded.
Sister Celeste leaned down and opened the large, satchel-like purse she had placed on the floor next to her chair. Rummaging through it, she pulled out a three-and-a-quarter-inch computer floppy disk. “I came to give you this,” she said, handing the small blue diskette over to Joanna. “I’m hoping it will provide all of us with some much-needed answers.”
“What’s on it?” Joanna asked.
“I have no idea. According to Lucy, this is the reason her mother died. I tried looking at it myself on my computer at school, but it didn’t work. I can see there are files. In fact, I tried using my disk utilities program on the thing. It told me that the disk is full, but I wasn’t able to open any of the files, and I wasn’t able to view them, either.”
Joanna passed the disk along to Frank Montoya. “Mr. Montoya happens to be my department’s resident nerd,” she said with a smile. “Do you mind if he tries taking a look at it?”
“Not at all,” Sister Celeste said. “I hope he has better luck with it than I did.”
Taking the disk, Frank left Joanna’s office for his own, leaving the two women alone together. They sat in silence for the better part of a minute, regarding one another, each sizing up the other.
“Are you aware that Lucy’s mother’s funeral will be held this afternoon?” Joanna asked at last.
Sister Celeste nodded. “I knew about it and told her, but I don’t believe Lucy has any interest in attending. She and her mother weren’t especially close.”
An all-time understatement, Joanna thought before asking her next question. “What about Catherine Yates? If nothing else, shouldn’t Lucy go to the funeral for her grandmother’s sake?”
“I think Lucy should do what Lucy thinks she should do,” the nun replied coolly.
Joanna was sorry to see that Sister Celeste’s initial case of nerves had obviously been put to rest. Sitting across from Joanna as silent and impassive as a carved Buddha, the nun seemed totally unperturbed. Another curtain of silence settled across the room.
“Are you aware Lucy Ridder is armed and possibly dangerous?” Joanna persisted eventually.
“I know she has a gun,” Sister Celeste answered. “For protection.”
“Protection from whom?” Joanna asked. “From my officers?”
“From the people who killed her mother,” Sister Celeste returned.
At that juncture, Frank Montoya reentered Joanna’s office. “It’s encrypted,” he said at once, spinning the flat disk across the smooth surface of the desk. Joanna caught it in midair before it had a chance to fall to the floor.
“I can’t do anything with it,” Frank continued. “But I’ll bet I know of someone who can.”
“Who?”
“I was talking to Rich Davis, one of the local POs the other day—”
“PO?” Sister Celeste asked. “What’s that?”
“Probation officers,” Frank explained. “Rich told me about one of his new parolees who was recently released from a federal prison up in Oregon. His name is Fred Woodworth. He was sent up for two years, having helped himself to other people’s money by using the Internet to hack his way into their accounts. He’s evidently quite an expert in his chosen field. If I remember correctly, he also broke into several Federal websites—places like the FBI, for instance, and military installations where they don’t take kindly to unauthorized visitors. He got some time taken off his sentence by serving as an informant on a few of his former cyber pals.”
“Great,” Joanna said. “Sounds like a great guy. What’s he doing here? How did Cochise County get to be so lucky that he ended up in our backyard?”