Trial By Fire

“Big time,” Dave agreed. “Robson doubts McGregor’s ELF associates knew he was documenting everything he did and, as a consequence, what they did, too. ATF hopes to swoop down and bring some of those folks in for questioning before they have a chance to go to ground.

“Which is to say, they’re not releasing any information about what happened earlier this afternoon, other than that there was an incident involving multiple agencies south of Payson. No names. No details. Not to anyone, including Mimi Cooper’s family, because they’re concerned that some of them may also have ties to ELF. Do

“What about what happened to Sister Anselm? Who’s investigating that?”

Dave sighed. “That’s sort of up in the air right now. Do

“But Sister Anselm was kidnapped because of what happened to Mimi,” Ali pointed out.

“Yes.”

“And they’re not releasing details about what happened to her, either?”

“Not at this time.”

Ali was beyond outraged. “So you’re saying someone can be kidnapped off city streets in broad daylight and no one is investigating the people who did it?”

“I’m sure Phoenix PD is already working the case.”

“Really,” Ali said. “They haven’t spoken to me, and I doubt they’ve spoken to Sister Anselm, either.”

“There’s no reason you can’t call them,” Dave returned. “Since you seem to know so many of the particulars, I expect they’d be interested in talking to you.”

“I’m not so sure I’m interested in talking to them,” Ali returned. “And what about Hal Cooper’s painting? No one has spoken to him about that, either? Agent Do

Ali’s merlot had arrived and was sitting on the table. She paused to take a sip and to get her temper back under control.

“Yes,” Dave said. “For right now that’s what we need to do.”

“That’s an order?”

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me. If you want to raise an objection, how about if you do it tomorrow, after you get back home?”

“I may just do that,” Ali said, “but right now, I need to go. My parents are here. I need to talk to them.”

With that she closed the phone. Blaming the hang-up on her parents was just an excuse. Ali knew she was about to throw a temper tantrum. At her age, that was something best done in private.

“My goodness,” Edie Larson said. “I can’t imagine what Dave could have said that made you so upset. You practically hung up on him.”

I didn’t practically hang up on him, Ali thought. I really hung up on him.

It angered her to think that the vicious attack on Sister Anselm had been turned into a political football, with none of the various agencies accepting responsibility for it. That was true for ATF agents Do

“What’s going on?” Edie asked when Ali didn’t answer right away.

Shaking her head, Ali looked from her mother to her father. “Sometimes men drive me nuts,” she said. “Present company excepted.” With that, and having taken only that one sip of wine, Ali pushed her glass aside and stood up.

“I’m tired,” she said. “I need to go to bed.”

“Is something wrong with your wine?” Bob asked.

“No,” Ali said. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to drink it. I’m going to my room.”

“But we came all the way down here to see you…” Edie began.

“Now, Mother,” Bob said. “Let her go.” He pushed away his empty beer bottle and reached for Ali’s glass of wine. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste,” he said.

Edie glared at him and then shook her head. “The lady at the desk says they serve a free breakfast in here every morning. Should we meet up here?”

“Sure,” Ali agreed. “That’ll be fine.”

“What time?”

“It’ll depend on how I feel,” Ali said. “Please call when you’re ready.”

Ali was still doing a slow burn as she went downstairs. With McGregor dead, everyone else seemed ready to pass the buck as far as Sister Anselm was concerned. Ali seemed to be the only person who was convinced that the attack on Sister Anselm had been carried out by two perpetrators rather than just one. And the fact that Sister Anselm was now in a hospital room in Saint Gregory’s didn’t mean she was entirely out of danger.

Ali allowed her parents think she was on her way to bed. Instead, she went to her room and called for her car. When she left her room to head back to the hospital, Ali took her briefcase and computer along with her. After all, Ali’s computer had saved Sister Anselm’s life once today. Maybe it would do so again.

CHAPTER 18

By the time Ali drove back to the hospital, the valet parking stand was closed. Driving into the garage, she saw a dark-suited man with the look of a security guard standing near the garage elevator, watching everyone who came and went. For some reason, that made Ali feel better. When she exited the garage elevator in the lobby, she was relieved to see still another guard posted near the front entrance. There hadn’t been a noticeable security presence at Saint Gregory’s the night before, but she was glad to see one now.

Once she was in the hospital, finding Sister Anselm wasn’t as easy as it should have been. No one seemed willing or able to give out any information. Having struck out everywhere else, Ali finally ventured into the waiting room outside the ICU.

As she stepped off the elevator, she was surprised to find two more rent-a-cops in black suits there as well. One stood to the right of the elevator, while the second was stationed just inside the waiting room.

The presence of the security detail probably meant that a celebrity of some kind, or maybe even a high-powered politician, was undergoing treatment in Saint Gregory’s. Fortunately for them, the guards made no attempt to waylay Ali. If they had, she most likely would have given them a piece of her mind-the piece she hadn’t let loose on Dave Holman.

When Ali first entered the darkened waiting room, she thought it was empty. Then a shadowy figure rose from a chair in the corner and walked toward her through the gloom.

“Please turn on the light, Edward,” a man’s voice said. “I’m through resting my eyes for the time being. There’s no need for our fellow visitor to stumble around in the dark.”

One of the guards moved at once to switch on the overhead light while Ali examined the elfin figure who had issued the order. He was tiny-only about five foot four-and he, too, wore a black suit, only his was topped by a clerical collar. His unruly mane of white hair seemed at odds with his clothing, as did his mischievous blue eyes and ready smile.

“I’m Bishop Francis Gillespie,” he said, holding out his hand. “From what Sister Anselm told me, I would assume you to be Alison Reynolds. Is that correct?”

Thunderstruck, Ali nodded. “Most people call me Ali,” she said.

When he clasped her hand in both of his, Ali was startled to realize that his hands weren’t nearly as small as the rest of him.

“I must confess that I had a little more help in identifying you than just Sister Anselm’s description,” he added. “After she spoke so highly of you, I took the liberty of looking you up on the Internet. I more than half expected that if you came here tonight, you’d still be wearing that bright red wig. Sister Anselm indicated that she thought the red hair looked very fetching on you.”