Chapter 13
I drove like a demon to the church, racing through half a dozen yellow lights and slowing only once we’d reached the turn for it.
I killed the headlights as I pulled into the parking lot.
The sprawling house of worship was flanked entirely with windows, the warm light of the sanctuary filtering through the cream-colored blinds.
The service had started more than an hour ago.
I spotted Officer Oates’s unmarked sedan parked close to the front of the building.
The driver’s seat was empty, which meant she was probably inside the church, looking for us.
“This is not good,” Vero said, gnawing a thumbnail.
I frowned at the dark expanse of cars, searching for an empty parking spot. “There must be a few hundred people inside. How long do you think Officer Oates has been in there?”
Vero shook her head. “No idea. My mom said she spotted Oates by the chapel door when she and Gloria got up to take communion.”
I reached over and put a hand on her frantically bobbing knee to still it. “The church will be crowded. All we have to do is get you through the door without anyone noticing. You can sneak into the chapel, stand at the back, and pretend you were there the whole time.”
“How am I supposed to get inside while Oates is standing in the damn vestibule? She’ll spot me the second I open the door.”
“Then we’ll just have to find another way in.
” I pulled into an empty parking space around the side of the church.
I scanned the length of the building. It was an impenetrable wall of stained glass and brick.
There were only two secondary doors that I could make out.
One was marked as a staff entrance, which meant it probably led to an office or, worse, the deacon’s chambers.
The other was a fire door that appeared to open directly into the chapel.
Vero thunked her head against her window. “This is hopeless! We’re never going to find a way to get into that … Oh!” She ducked forward in her seat and tipped her head to look up, searching the wall directly in front of our bumper. “That’s it!”
“The roof?”
“The windows! We’re right outside the women’s bathroom.
It opens into a hallway on the other side of the chapel.
We can sneak into the building through those.
” She pointed at a set of high casement windows above us.
A light was on inside them, the panes tilted outward to let in the air.
The voices of the church choir carried toward us on the cool evening breeze.
Whatever we were doing, we’d have to do it quickly.
Norma had texted us during communion, and that had been at least ten minutes ago.
I didn’t imagine a Mass in Spanish was much different from any of the ones I’d attended in English, which meant there should be only a handful of prayers left, and maybe a few announcements, before everyone got up to leave.
I followed Vero out of the van.
She turned to stare at me. “Where do you think you’re going? The Mass is in Spanish. If you go in there, you’ll stand out like pizza sauce on a taco.”
“If one of us gets caught sneaking in, it shouldn’t be the one with a tracking bracelet on her ankle.
I’ll go in first and make sure the bathroom is empty.
If the coast is clear, you can follow me in.
” I climbed onto the van’s bumper and stepped onto the hood, reaching above me for the window.
The hinge protested with a pneumatic hiss as I pushed it all the way open and poked my head inside.
I peeked down into an empty stall. The mirrors above the sinks gave me a clear view into the toilets on both sides of it.
“It’s empty,” I whispered. “Help me up.”
Vero gave me a boost. I put both shoulders through the open window and grabbed hold of the partition.
My jeans scraped the frame as I wriggled the rest of my body through the opening and lowered myself into the stall.
I felt around with my feet for the floor.
When I was safely on the ground, I hurried to the bathroom door and used my body to brace it shut.
“Hurry!” I called up to Vero.
The hood of my van buckled loudly in protest as Vero used it as a springboard to jump.
Her strained face appeared in the window, and she grunted as she pulled herself through it.
She grabbed the top of the metal partition and lowered her feet, her sneakers squeaking against the wall as if she were searching for a foothold.
The toilet roared to life. Vero yelped. I heard a shriek and a loud splash.
“What happened?” I whispered over the gurgling commode.
Vero threw open the stall door and glared at me across the bathroom.
Her ankle monitor flashed red as she slowly pulled her foot out of the toilet and shook it off like a dog.
She hobbled to the towel dispenser, dripping a trail of water behind her.
She yanked a paper towel from the dispenser and paused.
We stared at each other, our eyes going wide as the choir started singing again.
“The final blessing,” she said.
“Shit!” we cried in unison. We grabbed fistfuls of paper towels.
She swatted them at her wet jeans while I frantically spread piles of them over the growing puddle around her shoe.
I gave up trying to dry her off and dragged her toward the door.
“The service is almost done! You need to get out there before it’s over. ”
“I can’t go out there like this!”
“We don’t have any choice!” I grabbed the sopping towels from her hand and tossed them into the trash can.
I opened the bathroom door and shoved Vero through it as the deacon began reciting the final blessing. We sprinted down the hallway, our sneakers screeching against the tile. We threw open the chapel door and skidded into the sanctuary.
The entire congregation turned to gape at us. Everyone—including the deacon—was staring at the sputtering light on Vero’s ankle.
She cleared her throat. “And peace be with you,” she said, her voice echoing through the pews.
A few school-aged boys giggled. Vero’s mother made the sign of the cross. Gloria clapped a hand over her mouth. Officer Oates stood, arms crossed, at the back of the room. She didn’t look amused.
The deacon raised his voice to reclaim the congregation’s focus. He spoke a few words in Spanish, then came the usual salutations and handshakes that marked the end of the mass. As the congregants began filing out of the chapel, Vero and I quietly slipped out with them.
“Veronica!” Norma shouldered her way down the aisle with Gloria at her heels.
She took Vero and me firmly by the arms and whisked us out of the building.
“Where have you been?” she asked Vero in a furious whisper when we were all safely outside.
“Officer Oates is here. She asked me during communion where you were. I told her you were at home, but she said you told her you were going to church! And now I have to come back for confession again for lying to a police officer!” They argued in hushed, rapid-fire Spanish as Officer Oates wriggled her way toward them through the crowd.
Vero whispered frantically to her mother. “If anyone asks, I was here the whole time.”
We all turned, wide smiles plastered on our faces, as the officer approached. “Wow! Look, everyone, it’s Officer Oates,” Vero said cheerfully. “What a coincidence! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” The officer’s shrewd eyes raked over both of us. “I’ll be damned if I didn’t check every inch of that church looking for you not fifteen minutes ago.”
“We must have just missed each other. I was there the whole time. Right, everyone?”
Norma’s tight-lipped smile was pained. Gloria jumped in to save her. “Yes, Officer. Our Veronica would never miss mass.”
Officer Oates sucked a tooth. She glanced back at the church, raising an eyebrow at the open window Vero and I had just wriggled through. She turned back to us and jutted her chin toward Vero’s dripping pant leg. “Problem in the ladies’ room?” she asked mockingly.
“Got carried away with the holy water.” Vero’s tone was snide, and I pinched her thigh to shut her up.
I smiled at Officer Oates. “Nothing a mop and a plunger won’t fix.”
The deacon approached, holding his Bible against his robes.
He extended his hand toward Officer Oates, addressing her in English.
“Welcome to St. Peter’s. I’m Deacon Garcia.
It’s good to see a few new faces at mass.
And of course,” he added, with a knowing smile at Vero, “a few familiar ones, too. I was glad to see you in church tonight, Veronica.” He raised an eyebrow at her pant leg.
“I hope your ordeal in the restroom didn’t disrupt your worship. ”
Vero shook her head. “No, Father. I did a lot of praying.”
His smile was wry. “As Santa Teresa reminds us, every trial has a purpose. I understand you’ll be staying with your mother for a while.
I hope we’ll continue seeing you.” Vero nodded.
“Good,” he said, patting her arm. “I expect you’ll want to arrive early for confession on Wednesday.
” He winked at her before bidding us all farewell and returning to the church.
Officer Oates shook her head. Her trigger finger toyed with the handcuffs on her belt, but if she strapped them on Vero now, it would be her word against that of a highly respected member of the clergy.
Her rancorous smile said she knew it. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Ramirez, but I’m going to find out. ”
“Would you look at the time?” I said, making a show of checking my watch. “We should get Vero home. Her curfew is almost up, and she should probably put that ankle monitor in some rice to dry.”
“I have a better idea,” Officer Oates said. “Why don’t I follow you two home. I can remove that old, wet monitor and get rid of it. As luck would have it, I’ve got a brand-new model in the trunk of my car.”
I didn’t like her smug grin, or the way it grew wider in my rearview mirror as she followed my minivan back to Norma’s house.