“I have a pass,” the sister said. “I work there with the HIV/AIDS moms.”

She murmured something to the other two, who gave a ripple of laughter. I dozed and then came to with a start as I felt them fastening a scarf around my head.

“Okay, Sister V.I.,” Zabinska said. “On your feet. We’re going to bring a little succor to the ill and bed-ridden.”

The three nuns were laughing. They’d donned habits. I remembered Sister Frankie saying she wore hers whenever she had to go in front of a judge. The nuns helped me to my feet and showed me my face in the bathroom mirror. They’d pinned a veil around my face, hiding my chopped hair.

It was startling to see my eyes emerge from a nun’s face, as if the piece of cloth had changed who I was. Too wild-eyed and drawn to be Audrey Hepburn in The Nun’s Story. Maybe Kathleen Byron in Black Narcissus.

Zabinska and the sister who worked with the HIV moms each took one of my arms and guided me out the door and down the stairs, with Petra and the third sister following. We were moving slowly because of me and had reached only the top of the third flight when we heard a crash from the floor below us.

Sister Carolyn dropped my arm. “That came from Frankie’s place.”

Feet pounded down the hall below us. Sister Carolyn ran down the stairs. The HIV sister stayed with me, but the other nun ran after Sister Carolyn and my cousin pelted after her. I wanted to lead the charge, but I had to grab the banister and move one slow step at a time.

We reached the turn in the landing in time to see a man running down the stairs, followed by the nuns and Petra. We heard Sister Carolyn demanding that the man stop, and then the front door opened, tires squealed. A moment later, Petra and the nuns reappeared.

“Someone went into the apartment and made off with your bag,” Zabinska announced. “How did they know to look for it?”

“Don’t know.” I shook my head wearily. It was hard for me to think. “Feds been watching building, you know that? Maybe them. Should’ve remembered. Maybe followed me from hospital … Thought I was clear, but not too clever right now.”

“The feds have been watching us?” the HIV nun echoed. “How do you know that?”

“In hospital … Told me …” I was starting to drift.

“We almost had him,” Sister Carolyn said. “He was wearing a stocking cap, and I grabbed it instead of his shoulder. Then he opened the door so hard he hit Mary Lou in the nose, and we got tangled up with each other. Now I’m really angry. If he was a federal agent, he’ll have some real explaining to do, beating up a nun in her own home.”