The Book of David

by Kate L. Mary

  Chapter 24

  It turns out the FBI works fast. It only takes three days to gather everything they need, from the warrants to enter the compound to the extra agents, as well as numerous black vehicles all stamped with big white letters identifying them as property of the FBI. Jared and I aren’t allowed to go with them when they leave, but instead have to satisfy ourselves with sitting in a conference room at the police station where we’ll watch it all unfold on television. The police and FBI agents were furious when someone tipped off a few news stations, but I’m grateful because it means we won’t be left in the dark.

  It will take nearly three hours, just like Jared’s father told us, for the group to get to the compound, and the minutes seem to drag as we wait for word. We know it’s starting when one of the detectives, a man with a large belly and a mustache that completely covers his top lip, comes into the room where they’ve stashed us. I lean forward as he pushes a button and the television mounted on the wall flickers to life. It’s already on the right station, and I nearly sob when the image of the compound comes into view.

  On the screen, a woman with dark hair stands holding a microphone, looking into the camera as she explains what’s going on behind her. The FBI trucks are visible, as are handfuls of agents who are armed with terrifying weapons. They’ve positioned themselves behind barriers, hidden to expose themselves as little as possible, but ready in case they’re needed.

  The image on the screen switches to an aerial view, and I get my first glimpse of the entire compound. It seems almost tiny from this perspective, unguarded and unimposing, and for the first time I start to wonder if we’ve made a mistake. If we should have just driven away and never looked back. Most of the people living there are helpless. Meek. They would obey a mouse that suddenly found its voice and began throwing orders at them, making the arsenal of weapons the FBI has seem more than excessive.

  Then I spot the people on the streets, hurrying toward the main building, the parents ushering children forward, and I know this was the right decision. Those kids have no chance at a real life if they stay hidden in the compound, the girls who live there, especially. They deserve the opportunity to leave, even if they choose not to take it. They deserve to have someone stand up for them.

  I slip my hand into Jared’s when the image once again changes, this time focusing on Agent Lake as she approaches the gate with a few other people. She’s dressed differently, wearing black protective gear just like the men and women behind her, but her confidence seems to have only increased in size with the change of attire.

  The camera pans over a little, and I see him approaching the gate. Father David. He’s limping from the cut on his leg, and even from a distance I can make out a bruise on his right cheek, but otherwise he looks the same as he usually does. Tall and sure, the plastic smile etched on his face a reminder that this man is shaken by very little.

  Only a few steps behind him are two elders and David. I’ve learned since coming here that he isn’t legally my husband, but that doesn’t stop the word from flickering through my head when I lay eyes on him. Unlike his father, he seems to be barely able to maintain control of his emotions. He’s shaking and his face is red, and it brings to mind those last few moments in the bedroom of his house when I fought him.

  I push the images aside and focus on his father, because I don’t want to remember the almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Not now, not ever.

  Father David is at the gate now, talking to Agent Lake. It’s impossible to hear the exchange because the camera crew is too far away, but he’s smiling. Still unshaken. I hold my breath and wait to see what will happen, and all around them the agents ready their guns for a possible confrontation.

  It’s unnecessary, though, because Father David opens the gate.

  After that, things move steadily. The woman—a reporter, the detective with the bushy mustache calls her—on screen acts like the whole thing is very anticlimactic, and I get the impression she was hoping for a repeat of what happened at the compound in Waco, or at least something a little more dramatic. But for Jared and me, this is the much more desirable outcome.

  We don’t talk as it plays out on the screen in front of us. The agents go in, led by Lake and Father David. They break off, most of them going into the main building while others head deeper into the compound, back toward the houses. While we wait, the reporter compares this siege to others. The one in Waco, as well as another in Eldorado, Texas, and I can’t help wondering why so many groups like these make their homes in that desolate state. I remember running through the dusty expanse of nothingness, gasping for breath, my mouth filling with bits of sand that crunched between my teeth when I bit down. How hot it was during the day, how lifeless the endless brown landscape felt.

  On the television, with no warning at all, people come pouring out of the building. A few men, but mostly the women and children. Father David is there at Lake’s side, his hands cuffed behind his back. Behind them, David finds himself in a similar position, his hands bound as an FBI agent dressed in black leads him forward. George is there, too, and then I see her, and I get to my feet, finding myself moving closer to the television screen in an attempt to read the expression on her face. But my mother looks no different than she has any other day. Lifeless. Expressionless. Emotionless.

  “What will happen now?” I ask, turning to the detective. We’ve been over different scenarios, but it’s hard to remember it all because so much of this is foreign to me.

  “They’re removing all the women and children so they can get statements. Once that’s done, there will be more arrests. Assuming they don’t clam up.” He shakes his head like he doesn’t know how it will turn out. “In cases like this, it’s hard to get people to turn on the leader.”

  I believe him, and I know that even if Father David goes to prison for the rest of his life, there will still be people who believe he’s the voice of God. They’ll see him as a martyr. They’ll say he was persecuted and will receive an even bigger reward in heaven.

  “Where are they taking them?” Jared asks, and I turn to find him standing right behind me, his eyes on the screen as well, watching the people we’ve lived side by side with for our entire lives led out of the compound.

  “The local church has offered to let us use their recreation building for the time being. We’ve set up cots and have counselors standing by, as well as doctors in case anyone needs medical attention. We’ll give them a place to sleep and food to eat while we interview them one by one. It could take awhile, but we’ll get it done.”

  The reporter on TV goes on and on, and I start to wonder if she’s supposed to fill every moment with her chatter or if she just likes hearing herself talk. She describes things that would be obvious to anyone watching, like how the women and children are being loaded onto a bus and how there are a few people in handcuffs. She’s at least smart enough to identify Father David as the leader, but most of what she says sounds like senseless chatter to me, and I find I just want her to shut up so I can search the sea of faces in peace. I spot Sister Kathryn, who made my wedding dress, and Rebekah Snow, who was supposed to be Jared’s wife. Then Sister Sarah, cradling a baby in her arms—she must have had it while I was locked away—while three other children cling to her skirt. I find myself wondering if her newest child is a boy or a girl, and praying that she decides to leave that place so her children can have a chance at a normal life.

  Angela’s face emerges from the crowd. She’s with her mother and they’re hugging each other, and a sudden pang shoots through me when I remember the fun we used to have together. She’s only a few months away from her own wedding, but I don’t know if she’s looking forward to it or dreading it the way I was. I don’t know if she was as humiliated as I was on the night of her betrothal. Don’t know if she wishes her parents had never taken her there. I know nothing about the girl who for a short time meant so much to me, and it saddens me more than anything else at the moment.

 
Jared places his hand on my lower back, and I tear my gaze away from the television so I can look at him.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I feel like that’s the only thing we say to each other anymore.”

  “It’s temporary, but I know what you mean. Every second of every day, I find myself wondering how you’re handling all this, then I have to stop and ask myself how I’m handling it.” He shakes his head, and his blond hair falls over his forehead. “The problem is, I never come up with an answer.”

  “Me neither.”

  Even after the bus full of women and children has left, the FBI linger. They seem to be searching every nook and cranny of the compound, but I have a feeling they won’t find anything to incriminate Father David. That will be left up to me, and my testimony against him.

  Jared and I are served lunch in the conference room—pizza, which I’ve never had and instantly love—while we watch the coverage continue. It seems like there’s nothing else going on in the world right now, because the news station can’t get enough of the Children of David. They’ve managed to dig up information about its founder, a man by the name of David Warren. It isn’t the last name he uses now, though, because I’ve always known him as David Miller.

  His background is almost boring. Middle class family. Parents divorced. College at a seminary in Virginia. He married Ruth Parsons when he was only nineteen, who was the only child in a very wealthy family. She’d inherited a fortune when her parents were killed in a car accident the year before. David used those funds to start his ministry, which grew quickly, and by the time he was twenty-four years old, he’d relocated to Texas where he bought two hundred acres of land and built his first compound.

  “Not much is really known about the reclusive sect. Resources tell channel five that they’ve applied for tax free religious status twice, but have been denied both times. Since then, they’ve paid taxes and kept to themselves, and until recently no illegal activity has been reported on the compound. According to an anonymous source, all that changed several days ago when an escaped member tipped off authorities. The leader, who now calls himself David Miller, will be charged with crimes ranging from the marriage of underage girls to kidnapping, and possibly even murder. Since several other people have also been led away in handcuffs, we can only assume he has accomplices who will also be charged with crimes. Hopefully, the women and children who were taken from the compound today will have the opportunity to start over.”

  When the reporter is finished, the image switches to a newsroom where three people sit behind a desk, each of them wearing grave expressions. They talk for a few seconds about how horrible the situation is, and then with no segue at all, move on to discussing the weather.

  “That’s it?” I ask, turning to the detective.

  “They’ll show more later, but for now, that’s all. I bet they’re working as hard as they can to dig up more dirt on the people in that place.” He shakes his head. “Vultures.” I have no idea why he calls the reporters birds, but he pushes himself off the wall before I can ask and heads for the door. “Lake will be back in a few hours. Until then, you can hang out here or go for a walk if you want.”

  “A walk?” I ask, shocked.

  The detective nods. “You’re not prisoners.”

  That’s right, we’re not. Only I hadn’t thought about being able to leave the police station and take a walk through the town. It seems both terrifying and exhilarating.

  “What do you think?” I ask, turning to face Jared.

  “I think it could take our mind off everything.”

  The walk doesn’t really help take my mind off what could be going on with the Children, but it is effective in cementing my freedom in my brain. I can’t help thinking about all those afternoons by the pond as Jared and I walk through town. How many times did I think about jumping that fence and leaving the world behind? Too many to count, even if I could remember them all. Now, not only have I done just that, but I’m also free to walk down the street in a real town. I can stop and buy a cookie—which tastes even better than I remembered—at a bakery if it makes me happy. I can hold Jared’s hand and even steal a kiss that tastes like chocolate.

  We’re back at the police station within two hours because I want to be there when Agent Lake gets back, and even the ugliness of what we’re about to face can’t overshadow the joy inside me.

  The detectives ask us to return to the conference room, but Jared and I refuse. I want to be here when they’re brought in. Want to see David at the mercy of someone, just like I’ve been at his mercy for all these years. I want to see Father David realize he’s reached his end. That his ministry is about to be ripped apart.

  That isn’t what happens, though.

  Lake comes in first, and she ushers us back to the conference room and out of sight. She’s firm and authoritative, and I find it impossible to argue.

  “You can’t be out there,” she says once we’re inside the room. “It’s not how things are done.” She turns to the small window on the wall and twists a rod until the slats blocking my view of the other room flip up. “You can watch from here.”

  “What happened?” Jared asks.

  Lake’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t you watch it all on the news?”

  “Yes, but I want to know how they reacted. Did Father David put up a fight? Did anyone?”

  “No,” Lake says flatly. “He’s cooperating, which worries me.”

  “Why?” I ask, tearing my gaze from the window. “You have my testimony. That should be enough.”

  The corners of Lake’s mouth turn down. “I’m going to lay it all out for you, Willow. Unless we can get a few other people to corroborate your story, I don’t know if we’ll have enough to convict. Father David is telling us you’re lying. That you were expelled from the group, and you’re saying these things to get back at him. We’re still searching the compound, but right now we have nothing to back up your claims, meaning it’s your word against his. If a few of the other women come forward, we’ll have something to work with, but if they don’t…” Lake shrugs. “It will be tough. Probably impossible.”

  “What about the murders?” I ask, suddenly feeling hopeless.

  It never occurred to me that more than just my word was needed. I thought as long as the police believed me, Father David would go to jail, but that’s not how it works out here. There are laws to be obeyed, laws that ensure things are done correctly.

  “We’re collecting evidence from the scene, and we’ll have it sent to us, but there wasn’t much left behind. Your fingerprints were there, and we’ll compare the others we found to Father David’s, but I’m willing to bet he was smart enough to cover his tracks. This man is a classic sociopath. The kind that spins lies the way a spider spins a web. He could say anything, and with the charming way he carries himself, it’s possible a jury would have enough doubt in their minds to acquit him.” When I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, Lake puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can, Willow, but it might help if you talk to the other women. Can you think of anyone who might be willing to speak out against Father David?”

  I think of the girls I grew up with who are now women, many of them married and the rest on the verge of it, how they cut me off after I ran away. How invisible I’ve been to them since then.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “My dad,” Jared says, and my heart leaps. “Did you talk to my dad?”

  Agent Lake is quiet for a moment, and then she says, “We haven’t found your dad, Jared. I’m sorry.”

  Jared’s shoulders slump, but the expression in his eyes tells me he isn’t surprised.

  I slip my hand into his and open my mouth to give him comfort, but the words die when I see the front door to the police station open and Father David being brought in.

  He’s smiling. The expression makes me sick, because not only is it out of place with his hands cuffed the way they are, but it makes me feel like all of this has
been for nothing. The whole thing seems hopeless. Thinking about trying to get his followers to go against a man like this, one who can charm with little effort and evoke such loyalty with only a smile, it’s an impossible task.

  David is brought in next, but unlike his father, he isn’t smiling, and behind him is George. My mother follows, and compared to the men she looks like an empty shell. There are fresh bruises on her neck, dark against her snowy skin, and her lip is swollen and bloody. The surface evidence of George’s fury is probably nothing compared to what lies underneath her clothes, and I can only imagine the battered state her body and mind are in right now.

  “Has my mother said anything?” I ask Lake as the prisoners are marched past us.

  “No. Even when she was read her rights, she had to be prompted to say she understood.” Lake shoots a look at me out of the corner of her eye. “She won’t speak out against Father David. She’s not the type.”

  “I know,” I say. “I never thought she would.”

  “Do you want to see her?” Lake asks.

  I pause for a moment, thinking about the times over the last couple weeks when I tried to tell her how I felt. When I explained how much she’s hurt me, and how much I’ve wanted her love. The end result was only more pain for me, and at the moment, with the possibility of Father David going free, I don’t think I can face that.

  “No. Not now. But I’ll try to talk to some of the women. Who knows? Maybe there are others who have been feeling just like me, only they’ve been too afraid to do anything about it.”

  Chapter 25

  The church’s recreation building is only a five-minute drive. Jared doesn’t come, not because I don’t want him with me—I do, desperately—but because the building is a man-free zone. The FBI is hoping the absence of men will put the women at ease enough to talk. I don’t know if it will be that simple, but since it’s better than any idea I can come up with, I don’t comment on it.