揥hy was she killed??
揟he officers reported that they thought she was carrying a weapon. When she made a threatening move, they fired.?
Not exactly what happened, but he wasn抰 going to admit he was anywhere near the scene. 揑 assume your division was called in on the chance the rest of the altarpiece might be in jeopardy??
揟hat thought had occurred to us. We抳e dispatched additional security to Saint Bavo抯。 All is safe.?
揂nd that抯 why the police carried loaded weapons tonight??
Normally, Belgian authorities, like many across Europe, rarely toted live ammunition in their guns.
揥e were alerted to a possible terrorist situation,?Zeekers said. 揥e responded accordingly. Which is procedure. I see your point. This woman was clearly unarmed and the police fired too quickly, but bad things happen in situations like this.?
Nothing here was certain besides a woman抯 needless death. Nothing could be proven until more details were unearthed. Names. Dates. Times. The minutiae were what always mattered. Then it would all have to be verified. His mind ran through a familiar debate. The one he had with himself every time when he had to involve local officials. The second rule of working the field was knowing your opponent. The first was to identify your friends. Here? Both calls were easy. That convent had to be searched and he had zero authority to make it happen. But this guy? Inspector Zeekers of the General Directorate of Judicial Police? He could ring that bell.
Nick stood from the body.
Zeekers bent down to replace the tarp.
But something caught his eye in the light. Just beneath the black outer garment, on the right shoulder, where the thin material had been shredded by an entry wound into the pale skin.
揥ait,?he said.
He crouched back down, carefully parted the shards of Lycra and spandex, and revealed a small tattoo.
揂 vulture??Zeekers asked.
揑t appears so.?
And strange for a nun to be sporting one. Perhaps it had been applied before this woman took her vows. Something meaningful only to her. That was possible. Then he noticed a chain around her neck.
揧ou see that??he asked Zeekers.
The inspector crouched down and carefully tugged the links out from the gash in the bodysuit, revealing a silver medallion dangling at its end.
A fleur-de-lys.
Personal to her again? Or something more?
揗ind if I take a few pictures??he asked.
Zeekers nodded.
He found his phone and snapped an image of the tattoo, the medal, and the woman抯 face.
Then he faced Zeekers.
Time for truth.
揟here抯 somewhere we have to go, and there抯 someone who has to come with us.?
Chapter 15
Kelsey stepped from the police car in front of the convent for the Maidens of Saint-Michael. Nick had returned and explained the situation梬hich, at first, had sounded fantastical. But once she realized he was serious her skepticism had changed to intense curiosity.
Thank goodness he was here.
For so long she抎 lived a solitary life, mostly away from her family and friends. Fulfilled? Absolutely. Complete? Working on it. Satisfied? That one was still on the table. She抎 definitely made the right choice devoting herself to God. Every day she felt an intense inner satisfaction. But hurting Nick? That she regretted with all her heart.
She抎 hoped time had helped him to better understand. That was one reason she抎 finally suggested a face-to-face meeting after so many years. She wanted to say again how sorry she was for the pain and judge for herself the degree of his healing. It was important that he was okay. They抎 once trusted each other, and, to some degree, she抎 violated that trust, however justified her actions might have been. He hadn抰 been her first love, but he had been the last and most important.
Her person.
She抎 specifically chosen the Congregation of Saint-Luke for its dedication to culture, and its desire to draw people toward faith through the beauty of art. The order was started by a Carmelite nun who抎 lived in Florence during the 1930s. She抎 noticed among the city抯 many museums and fresco-covered churches that there were few to no works by women, and what did exist lay unseen in storage rooms. So she embarked on a quest to find and restore the lost artworks of Florence抯 forgotten female artists, digging into museums?archives and dusty deposits. By the 1960s she抎 formed a new religious order dedicated to the evangelist Luke, the patron saint of artists. Her recruits shared that passion, many becoming skilled restorers. Hundreds of works, most from female artists, had been brought back to life by the sisters of Saint-Luke. Eventually, the convent targeted its recruitment to women either trained in or passionate about art, and Kelsey抯 early restoration work had definitely come to their attention.