light on who killed her, is that right?”
“Yes, that is my belief.”
“So why come to the Mirror?”
“I think the Order first wants to privately determine what her past might entail and how it might reflect on the organization before informing the police or anyone.”
“Really, in light of abuses and scandals, they’d still play it that way?”
“I’m sure you’re aware that institutions always protect themselves first, Jason.”
“Right. Even news organizations.”
“And there’s more. It’s just a feeling I have. Shortly before she was killed, she confided to me that she’d done a horrible thing in her youth. Something about destroying lives.”
“What did she mean?”
“She never elaborated. I brushed it off, thinking that she’d meant she’d broken a young man’s heart. When women leave their secular lives for the church, they often break a young man’s heart.”
“So why is this a factor now, after all these years?”
“After I found her journal, her comment took on a different meaning for me. It’s complicated. I’m sorry this is so confusing and I could be wrong-but I got the sense that she felt something from her past was catching up to her.”
Jason stared at her, absorbing everything.
“So what are you proposing, Sister?”
“Here,” she produced a photocopy of Anne’s journal, and the information on Sister Marie in Canada. “I’ll give this information to you with the hope that you’ll locate Sister Marie, and determine the truth, whatever it may be. I’ll give you three or four days, then I’ll be passing this to police.”
“Why not go to them now?”
“Your stories have been fair and accurate. I want to know that the truth will be known.”
He scanned the journal and the material. It was dynamite.
“If we go ahead, I won’t publish your name, but I think the Order is going to know where we got our information.”
“The Order will ultimately deal with me as it sees fit. I’ve accepted that, but I know Anne would want this, which brings me to another reason why I’m coming to you. A man came into our home and murdered our Sister. He’s still out there and he could harm others. I know we want him arrested and prosecuted.”
“That’s vengeful talking for a nun. Aren’t you supposed to forgive your enemies?”
“We’re also human, we get angry, and we seek what is right and just. Believe me, I have agonized over this.”
Jason shook her hand.
“I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll pray for you.”
After escorting Denise out, Jason returned to the boardroom and spent half an hour reviewing Sister Anne’s journal. Then he went to his desk and made a number of quick calls, to check out a few things.
Next he went to Reep, showed him the documents, and pointed out Sister Denise in the background of recent news photos, assuring him that she was a legitimate source. After he’d heard everything Jason had to tell him, and after flipping through the journal and the fax indicating where Sister Marie could be located, Reep steepled his fingers.
“So you want to go up to Canada, find this hermit nun, and see what secrets she holds about our murdered nun’s previous life?”
“I think I could deliver a helluva package.”
Reep turned to look at the map on his wall.
“You’d have to fly into Calgary, which is not all that far.”
“I checked. I can fly Seattle to Vancouver, British Columbia, connect to Calgary, rent a car, drive to the nun’s place. Give me two days, tops.”
“What if the nun doesn’t talk to you?”
“We’ve got the ‘secret diary’ that was hidden under the floor of her room. That’s a heck of a scoop. And I’ll give you a Canadian place line, loads of color and intrigue. A Mirror exclusive, say, secret diary and hermit nun in Canadian Rockies may hold clues to Seattle nun’s murder.”
The beginnings of a tense smile flickered on Reep’s face.
“Go. Get on the next plane. But, I’m telling you, Wade, you damned well better come back with a big one.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“ A n e-ticket will be waiting for you at the Air Canada counter. Take your passport, it’ll make things easier,” Maggie in travel told Jason over his cell.
He was driving to his apartment, eye on his rearview mirror because he was speeding. Before he’d left the Mirror, Maggie had given him four hundred Canadian dollars and a company credit card.
“You’ve got over two hours to make your flight,” she said. “I’ll get a cab rolling to your place to take you to the airport.”
At his apartment, Jason packed fast.
He grabbed his laptop, extra batteries, files, and enough clothes for two nights. Traffic was choked due to a wreck on I-5. By the time he arrived at Sea-Tac International, got his ticket, got wanded through security, and cleared Canadian Immigration, preboarding was commencing.
As the queue formed, Jason called Grace Garner. He had to smooth things over, he thought, as her line rang. If something broke on the story while he was away, he’d need help. And if he uncovered critical information on this trip, he might need to broker a deal. He got her voice mail. The sound of her voice resurrected memories of them together. He pushed them aside and he left her a message.
“Grace, it’s Jason. I know things have been tense lately, but call me.”
The jet to Vancouver was three-quarters full.
Jason had a window seat with no one beside him for the forty-minute flight. In the air, his stomach tightened over the story. What if he struck out and something broke back home while he was away? Not much he could do about that. Chewing gum did not ease his tension.
Things looked gray outside.
A gentle rain was falling when he landed in Vancouver, British Columbia. Before connecting to Calgary, he checked his phone to see if Grace had returned his call.
Nothing.
He tried calling his old man. Maybe his dad had something. More important, Jason was concerned about how his father was holding up.
No answer.
His jet to Calgary departed on time. When the plane leveled off over the mountains, he put his files, recorder, and laptop on the tray table and began working. He scoured the photocopied pages of Sister Anne’s journal, studied her graceful handwriting. The bulk of her entries were mundane notes or reflection on experiences of delivering hope in Third World countries. But scores of excerpts hinted cryptically at her past. Jason captured them into a story file, highlighting those that leapt from the page, such as: Oh heavenly Father, can I ever be forgiven for what I did, for the pain I caused? Although I am not worthy, please forgive me.
Regret and remorse were the underlying tones, he thought, as he read an excerpt written near the last days of her life: I deeply regret the mistakes I have made and will accept your judgment of me.
What the hell happened? What could a nun have done that would compel such tortured soul-searching? It wasn’t clear. She doesn’t spell it out here. And he considered what Sister Denise told him about Sister Anne’s odd revelation about “destroying lives.”
What does it all mean?
