Bad Habit (2 page)

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Authors: JD Faver

Tags: #romance, #romantic suspense, #hispanic, #nun, #texas romance, #multicultural romance author, #new york romance

BOOK: Bad Habit
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She pulled Colin’s carry-on bag
from under her twin size bed. Unzipping it, she looked at the
bundles of hundred dollar bills. Most of it was still
there.

She slipped off her rubber-soled
shoes and stretched out on the narrow mattress. Clutching the bag
in her arms, she stared at the ceiling. Runaway tears trickled down
her temples and into her hair. She didn’t notice.

Her thoughts were on Colin. He had
been jubilant on their return from the Caribbean. She had thought
it was because he loved her, but the money probably had a lot to do
with it.

She could never ask the questions
screaming in her head because Colin was so very dead. Did he
intentionally leave the small carry-on bag in her dressing room or
was it an accident?

When Teri first discovered Colin’s
bag, she hadn’t checked the contents but had tried to call him
immediately. It went straight to voice mail, inspiring her to
deliver the bag. She expected him take her to dinner as a
reward.

When she’d pulled into the reserved
parking space with her name on it, a reward from Mr. Kelso, their
employer, for her exceptional performance, she hadn’t been able to
resist feeling proud of herself. She saw Colin’s car parked in his
usual space next to Mr. Kelso’s slot by the stairs, a healthful
activity according to Martin Kelso. She’d wondered if Colin had
jogged up to the sixth floor in case Mr. Kelso was
watching.

Instead, she found him on the floor
of his ransacked office with a bullet in his head. She stood over
Colin, fighting the wave of nausea that engulfed her, clutching his
bag as she was now, unable to move, unable to think.

When she heard someone coming, she
panicked and ducked into the closet. Teri held her breath as the
two men argued, the taller man ranting at the other.

The narrow louvered slats of the
bi-fold closet doors allowed Teri to see the stocky man who knelt
to rummage through Colin’s pockets. The other stood, berating his
associate in a raspy, threatening voice that was etched on her
memory. Teri would never forget the sound of that voice.

Apparently the speaker had
instructed his associate to obtain the money from Colin before
killing him. The angry man made it clear that the money was his.
Shoving the short man out of the way, he took a few minutes to go
through Colin’s pockets for himself and then, locating his keys,
departed. As he squatted in Teri’s line of sight, she saw a badge
and gun holstered at his belt, just like Detective Garcia’s and, on
the back of his hand a flat, shiny scar that might have resulted
from a burn.

Scarcely daring to breathe, Teri
waited until she was sure they’d gone before leaving her hiding
place. Carefully skirting Colin’s corpse, she crept down the
darkened stairwell and locked herself inside her car in the
deserted parking garage. Her heart pounded in her ears as she sat
gripping the steering wheel, struggling to make sense of her
situation.

Colin was dead and she’d seen the
murderers. If she went to the police they would surely arrest them,
except that one, maybe both were the police.

Backing out of her parking space,
she spied the two men going through the trunk of Colin’s car. The
short man yelled out and ran toward her. He drew a gun from his
jacket and fired a shot.

It hadn’t sounded the way she’d
thought a gunshot would sound. The bullet landed with a soft thunk,
embedding in the side of her car. Teri ground her foot on the gas
pedal. Peeling out of the garage, she veered into traffic, not
knowing if they were in pursuit.

She didn’t return to her apartment
and she didn’t go to the police. The killers knew her name,
embellished in ornate script lettering above her parking
space.
Reserved for Teri
Slaughter
. Even with her minimal celebrity,
it wouldn’t be hard to find her.

She’d driven straight to her sister’s convent in
Maine. Teri needed the wisdom and comfort only Bernie, her best
friend and confidant could provide. At the time, the idea of
masquerading as a nun had seemed like a reasonable alternative to
being murdered. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Being Bernie was easy. Just become everything Teri
Slaughter was not. Teri whacked her long, trademark tresses at the
nape of her neck. It had taken her years to grow her hair so long.
She wore the simple skirts and shirts Bernie favored. The most
absurd thing was Bernie’s choice of underwear. Teri now owned a
weeks worth of plain white granny panties and cotton bras. Giving
up her beautiful lingerie was a sacrifice, but at least she was
still alive.

She ditched her car at the airport
and took a taxi to the bus station. The long ride to San Antonio
was cathartic. She rode in the back of the bus, looking out the
window at the countryside rolling by and discovered she could
breathe by the time she crossed the Arkansas state line.

Mother Immaculatta was delighted
that Sister Bernadette decided to settle in early and welcomed her
effusively. Teri had counted on her trusting nature, thinking that
she wouldn’t check the convent in Maine to substantiate the
whereabouts of the real Sister Bernadette.

Teri spent the rest of July getting to know the nuns
and practice being Bernie. By the time school started in August she
was in character. She’d almost forgotten her past as she focused on
the daily events in her new life.

Both Teri and Bernie had majored in
art but Teri dropped out to begin her modeling career. Luckily she
could still paint and draw. This had proven to be an advantage when
she turned to advertising as a career.

She set up an easel in a corner of
the apartment she shared with the “young ones” as Mother Superior
called them. She painted when she had free time just as Bernie
did.

She sat up and wiped the tears with
the back of her hand. Zipping the bag, she left it on top of the
bed.

She paced around the apartment, her
mind a blank. She filled a glass with ice and poured tea over it
from the sun tea jar Sister Clement always had on the windowsill.
Teri was adapting to the Texas habit of drinking iced tea with each
meal

She wondered if Detective Garcia
had any inkling of her true identity. He hadn’t seemed overly
suspicious, but then, who questions a nun?

Teri figured she’d put on a good
ten pounds, but there wasn’t a scale. She had gone from a size four
to a size eight. When she got back to New York she would hire a
personal trainer and go to the gym every day. For now, the extra
pounds were part of her disguise.

She removed two crisp
hundred-dollar bills from the bag and stuffed them in her pocket
along with her keys. Unfolding a brown paper grocery bag from the
pantry, she placed the rest of the money inside.

Teri walked to the Wal-Mart two
blocks from the apartment. She purchased a pair of jeans and a
yellow knit shirt and changed in the restroom. Adding a San Antonio
Spurs baseball cap and pair of hot pink sunglasses as accessories
completed her outfit.

People who lived and worked near
the convent could spot the nuns even in lay clothing. Teri didn’t
want anyone to connect a nun with what she was about to do. She
stuffed her conservative skirt and shirt in the plastic store bag.
Another two blocks took her to a branch of a local bank.

She went inside and rented a safe
deposit box, using Bernie’s social security number and her St. Pius
School identification. When the banker left her alone, she took the
money out of the bag and neatly arranged it in the drawer. She
regarded it solemnly. Teri Slaughter had not wanted this money, nor
had she done anything to deserve it but she was positive the men
who killed Colin didn’t deserve it either. She folded the paper bag
on top of the rows of bills.

The last thing she placed in the
safe deposit box was a list of numbers written in Colin’s
handwriting. She’d found it in a pocket of the carry-on bag. The
list contained ten sets of numbers, in no sequence she could
recognize. It had to be important so she’d saved it. She locked the
drawer and put the key on her ring. If forced to take flight again
she might not be able to go back to the apartment to get the
money.

Teri immediately felt lighter, as
though having all that cash hidden under her bed had been a huge
burden.

Walking as fast as possible without
drawing attention to herself, she returned to the apartment and
then folded the jeans and knit shirt in the bottom of her bureau
drawer. After pulling on her previous attire, she returned to the
convent in time for supper.

Mother Imaculatta caught her eye
when she entered and Sister Clement waved gleefully. Teri took a
chair between Clem and Sister Constantine or Connie as she was
called.


Oh, Bernie,” Clem said. “I was
going to make you a sandwich if you didn’t make it to the dining
hall in time for dinner.”


Thanks, Clemmie,” Teri flashed a
smile and picked up her napkin.


We have food at the apartment,”
Connie said. “You could make something there.”


Not as good as this,” Teri said.
The delicious convent meals were the cause of her weight
gain.

After supper they went to the
chapel for evening prayers. Mother Superior drew her away from her
friends and knelt beside Teri on the kneeler.

Teri was sure that Bernie would have been earnestly
praying for her and she tried to apply herself to the task but
found her mind wandering. She prayed for Colin, picturing his
handsome, tanned face with the bullet hole in his forehead. She
finally settled on a silent mantra begging for deliverance from her
pursuers and a return to her former life.

#

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

The Chapel of St. Cecelia’s Convent, Bridgeport,
Maine

 


Lord, please forgive me for my
recent grievous transgressions. Please protect my little sister
Teri and guide her home safely.” Sister Bernadette crossed herself
and rose from her knees.

She had strong feelings about
arranging for Teri to impersonate her at St. Pius. On the one hand,
she had been afraid for Teri’s safety since Colin’s brutal murder
and also terrified to learn that a policeman had somehow been
involved. But she was grateful to God that she had been able to
provide a haven when her baby sister was in such desperate trouble.
She was also wracked with guilt for incubating a whopping big
deception. She had confessed her sins but the lie was still out
there hovering over them.

Bernie was anxious about Teri, but
trusted that God would make everything turn out right. She dipped
her fingertips in the holy water and crossed herself again before
leaving the chapel. She’d said a nightly rosary for Teri since she
first learned of her sister’s troubles.

She stepped out onto the walkway
and inhaled the cooling early evening air. It was Sister Bernie’s
habit to take a walk every evening. She started her tour with a
stroll through the rose garden and circled the entire convent
grounds. She rested a moment under the ancient elm with branches
spreading as wide as the chapel itself.

She remembered growing up in North
Carolina with Teri always tagging along after her. Every summer the
two towheads turned golden in the sun.

Bernie rubbed her fingers over the
rough bark, recalling their climbing tree in their grandparent’s
backyard. Bernie had delighted in climbing to the highest branch to
look down at her little sister and taunt her for clinging to the
lower branches.

A shiver caressed her spine as she
thought of the day Teri reached for the limb overhead and missed.
In Bernie’s memory it always happened in slow motion. Bernie
watched in horror as Teri fell backwards snapping through layers of
twigs and small branches. She could hear the sound of Teri hitting
the ground even now.

A fractured arm had put Teri in a cast for the
entire summer. All the kids signed it and Teri wore it proudly.
Bernie remembered feeling a bit of jealousy and a lot of guilt.


How could you let her fall? You’re
the big sister. You’re supposed to look out for her.” Grandma shook
her finger at Bernie as though it was her fault.


Hush now, Ruth,” Grandpa said. “The
girls are going to get a few bumps and scrapes now and then. Don’t
make ‘em into bystanders. Let ‘em get in the game.”


Bystanders’ was the code word the
sisters used when talking to each other. They always ended letters
and phone calls with, “Don’t be a bystander.”

On Teri’s last visit, when she’d
been so frightened, she had clung to Bernie tearfully.


I’m afraid,” Teri said. “Colin’s
dead and I miss him so much. I’m all alone now.”

Bernie wrapped her arms around her.
“I’m always here for you.”


I know.” Teri smiled tremulously.
“But you’re locked up here with God and your other family.” Tears
rolled down her cheeks unnoticed. “I’m afraid to go back to my
place. This is a nightmare. My boyfriend was murdered and my entire
life evaporated.” She brushed away her tears. “I miss him so
much.”

Bernie felt totally useless in the
face of her sister’s tragedy. “I’m supposed to leave for Ireland in
two days, but I’ll cancel. I want to help you.”

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