Merry Sister Mary and the One and Only Killer

32: Sister Mary Says Her Goodbyes

A shot in the dark is a phrase that means a chance of something happening or a hopeful attempt of things going the way you plan. Well, I took a shot in the dark, the literal and figurative kind, hopeful I would reach my mark and save both myself and the girl who had fallen prisoner to this monster. I had never fired a gun until that moment. The recoil threw me back, the bang rippled through the air, the bullet hissed forward.

The gunshot alerted the police nearby to come running in our direction. I dropped the gun and tumbled towards the frightened girl. I ripped apart the knots and pulled the child into my arms.

"There there, child, all will be ok."

"Agh!" growled Michael in the corner wincing in pain and cupping his hand. "You fucking shot me! You shot me!" From his hand gushed a pool of blood. "Why would you shoot me in the hand?"

"If the hand causes you to sin, then cut it off. Be thankful I only shot that, you swine."

"You bitch!" Michael lunged at me, but I had enough of his threats. I did one powerful kick in the air. My legs strong after all the years kneeling and rising from prayer were a deadly force. Whoosh! My little nun shoe landed square into Michael's chest bringing him down in a heap of tumultuous anguish. For my final attack I hurled the base of my umbrella upon his injured hand. Oh man did he scream!

The police including Sergeant Leblanc and Investigator Dorsey entered the run down shack.

"Sister Mary!" They both shouted in alarm. "What? How?" Without another word they handcuffed the injured Michael and hauled him away. I rubbed the scared girl's back, lifted her to her feet and lead her out of the shack. Her hug was so tight it shifted my belly fat into my arms and legs.

"It's going to be alright, child," I whispered in her ear. "No one is going to hurt you anymore. Sister Mary has you."

Soon we were led away from the scene and into a stream of red and blue flashing lights. The little girl refused to leave my side no matter how hard the medics pleaded. We were wrapped in fresh blankets and given a soda. I brushed the girl's hair with my fingers calming the poor dear until at last her parents arrived. Their wails of joy pieced the night.

I cried at the sight even though I didn't want to get any more wet than I already was. A feeling of purpose loomed over me filling me with a happiness I had rarely felt before. The parents greeted me with cries of thanks. They offered to reward me with anything I wanted, money, food, you name it. I told them I only desired a quiet night, a good sleep, and a set of dry clothes.

I sat for a time on the ambulance bumper looking through the police car window. There was Michael, his face empty of all emotion, a man drained of all his power. I prayed that the information I had procured would be enough to keep him locked up forever, and if not, I had left him with constant reminder that would never fully heal, a mark on his hands to tell him every day that a nun had bested him. I believed people could change no matter how far they had fallen. I prayed for Michael. I prayed he would one day seek forgiveness. I turned away and sighed. It was finally over; my job was done.

Sergeant Leblanc took me back to Stanton Manor to get cleaned up. Janet had washed my gown after I had scuffed it up from the rodeo. It was a pleasant feeling to be dry again. She cooked me a big meal from which I ate very little. I crawled into bed, placed DT by my side, and soon I was fast asleep.

The next morning I awoke to a greeting by the Stanton family, at least the ones that had not been arrested. Giles and Susan were taken away by police. Their crimes were for aiding and abetting a criminal and hiding evidence. Father Blanchard was found free of most charges after a lengthy call from the archdiocese. He could not be accused for knowledge of Michael's crimes since he was told the information through a confidential religious ritual. Although the knowledge of Father Blanchard rapping a woman and fathering a child was enough to start an entirely different investigation, one I knew I had no part in playing.