"Olivia, Olivia," Mother remonstrated softly. "Only human plans can be thwarted. His, never."

Olivia raised her head. Her eyes were filled with tears and her chin was trembling. If I had not seen that bloody body lying in the straw, had not seen how ruthlessly Sadie sad been struck down, I would have felt pity for her. She seemed so utterly destroyed, less a criminal than a victim jf her own high expectations, her hopes for a dream that – ould never be real.

And now that her defense against the truth had been breached, we had come almost to the end. There was only:he admission left, only her final confession. For that-

I took the card out of my pocket, unfolded it, and held it out. "What is this, Olivia?"

She glanced at it, then away. "It's a cross," she said helplessly. Her voice cracked.

"It's your cross, isn't it?"

"Mine?" She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "No, of course not. Why would I have a cross like that?"

"Why-?" I looked down. I'd been in a hurry when I picked up the cross, and I'd put it in my pocket without examining it closely. Now I did, and saw what I hadn't seen before.

In the center of the cross was an emblem. On the emblem were two letters, a K and a C, elaborately intertwined. K and C. The Knights of Columbus.

F. Lee Bailey once said that you should never ask a witness a question you didn't already know the answer to. "If you do," he said, "you deserve whatever the hell you get."

I had known the answer to my question. I had been absolutely confident that Olivia would say, "Yes, that's my cross." But I had been wrong, disastrously wrong, wrong again. I looked down at the cross. There were two people who might have worn it, and neither of them were in this room.

I cleared my throat. ' 'So you… you had nothing to do with the assault on Sadie Marsh?" It was less a question than a bewildered statement of the unthinkable truth that was just beginning to dawn on me.

"The assault?" Olivia's gasping perplexity was even greater than mine.

"Tom Rowan and I found her this morning in the barn at the M Bar M. She had been hit on the head and left for dead."

"Dead!" Olivia half-rose. Her face registered both profound distress and a fierce, undisguised hope. ' 'Sadie Marsh is dead!"

"No," I said. "At least, she wasn't when the ambulance took her to the hospital. But she has severe head wounds. She may not live."

She sank back weakly. "Did she-? Did the board-?"

"Look at the old deed?" I shook my head. "She didn't make it to the meeting. Somebody tried to kill her to keep her from talking."

Her voice was thick, her eyes staring. "Somebody-But who-? Why-?"

I shook my head, swallowing hard, painfully. "I don't know. Not yet." I could guess who, but I didn't want to. I'd been wrong so many times in the last few days. I could only pray I was wrong this time too.

"You thought it was me!" Olivia was breathing through her mouth, short, panting breaths, like a dog. "You really believed I could have killed Sadie!" She threw back her head and began to laugh, a grating sound that ended in a crazy, gasping cackle. "You thought I-"

"Olivia!" Mother Winifred put a hand on her shoulder. "Get hold of yourself!"

Olivia stopped as suddenly as if she'd been gagged. She collapsed against the chair, her eyes closed. "I hated her for being so smug," she whispered. "I despised her for keeping me from doing what God wants me to do. But I didn't kill her."

There was one last thing. "What was she wearing?" I asked.

' 'I told you. She was ready for bed. She was wearing a purple bathrobe and flannel pajamas." She opened her eyes

and held out trembling hands. "You have to believe me. I'm innocent!"

A purple bathrobe and flannel pajamas. The recollection of the unmade bed I'd seen this morning came back to me, and I realized its significance. Sadie had slept there last night, after Olivia had left. She had been attacked early this morning, after she dressed but before she had time to make the bed, by the owner of the cross I held in my hand.

I folded the small silver object back into its cardboard packet and put it into my shirt pocket. Olivia couldn't help me determine what had happened to Sadie, but there were three other mysteries to be solved, and she had the answers to both.

"You may be innocent of this morning's assault," I said, "but you are guilty on other counts. You know who murdered Mother Hilaria. You know who wrote the letters, and you know who set the fires. I want you to name that person."

Mother gasped. "Murdered? Mother Hilaria was murdered!"

Olivia's face was waxen. Her hands clutched the arms of her chair; her eyes were fixed on me. "You… know?" she whispered.

I nodded. "But I can't prove it, and I can't obtain her confession. You are the only one who can make her tell what she has done."

The silence crouched between us, waiting and wary. At last she shook her head.

I held her eyes. "You want to become the spiritual mother of these women. How can you expect them to turn to you for guidance and comfort and at the same time protect a sick individual who threatens their safety?''

Mother put her hand over Olivia's. "If you know who she is, you must lead her to confession, my child, and quickly. There has been another letter, delivered in the same manner, with the same enclosure-a leaf of rue."

Olivia closed her eyes. Her voice was thin and thready. "Who received it?"

"Gabriella. The accusation was… ridiculous, or worse.'' Mother's voice was profoundly sad. ' 'Confession is the only way the writer can be redeemed, Olivia. And if you have been concealing her identity, it is your way to redemption, as well."

Olivia clutched Mother's hand in both her own and began to sob.

I stood. "I'm going to the hospital, Mother. But I should be back this evening. After supper, please gather the sisters-all of them-in the chapel."

Mother slipped her free arm around Olivia's shoulders and looked up at me. "The chapel? Yes, of course. But why?"

I looked at Olivia, still sobbing. ' 'Because,'' I said quietly, "it's time you assembled a Chapter of Faults. Sister Olivia is ready to accuse a sister who has sinned."

I left the cottage and hurried down the path to the parking lot and the truck. I had lied to Olivia when I said I knew who killed Mother Hilaria. I didn't know-not exactly, that is. I had narrowed it down to two people.

And then down to one. As I walked across the parking lot, I met two nuns coming toward me. I stopped to speak briefly, and held out my hand to each to thank her for her help. When I left them a moment later, I knew which of the sisters Olivia would accuse.

But I shouldn't be so confident. I had made too many mistakes in the last few days. Maybe I should confess my errors to the Chapter of Faults.