“I’m glad. I’m happy to see you, to see that you’re okay.” I reached through the security bars. Hannah took my hand.
“You can’t marry that creep,” she said. “And I’m sure as hell not going to marry him in two months.”
“I promise. You won’t have to marry him. It’s all going to be all right.”
Hannah jiggled the security bars. “If we could take these off, we could get you out of there.”
I shook my head. “No. I have a plan, and I want to see it through.”
Did I ever. My plan had evolved from a simple plot to save Hannah and stop Pastor Bill into a personal vendetta, payback for the deaths of so many people in the explosions and fires.
I never suspected I could be so bloodthirsty, but now I understood the need for vengeance, the compulsion to get even, the urge to make somebody pay. Was it noble? Nope, but it was human.
A boom tore through the air, rattling the cabin’s windows. A few seconds later, people began to shout, and in the distance, I saw a man running in the direction of the main gate.
“That’s got to be Levi,” Hannah said. “We took some explosives from a construction site before we left Portland. You know, just in case we needed to blow something up.”
I stared at her. “Why would a couple of seventeen-year-olds need to blow something up?”
“You never know. Like if one of them has to help his girlfriend escape from a cult. I told you that Levi’s smart, and he knows how to do stuff. His grandpa in La Pine is one of those crazy survivalist types. Levi spent a month with him every summer while he was growing up. He taught Levi how to hunt and shoot and make booby traps, and how to use small explosives.”
“If it’s Levi, the explosion might be a diversion,” I said slowly. “Even if it’s not, it’s an opportunity for her to get away.” I turned to Nicole. “Nicole, if you’re really sorry about buying into Pastor Bill’s bullshit, here’s your chance to make things right. While everybody is checking out the bomb site, take Hannah to the other side of the camp and help her get over the fence.”
This was better than my original plan, one less thing to worry about. Killing Pastor Bill might spare Hannah from becoming his Eve number four, but what if one of his deacons stepped up to take his place? Hannah might still be in danger.
Nicole nodded and turned toward Hannah. “Kenzie’s right. This is your best chance to escape, but we’ll need to be careful. You need to get away clean, and I can’t be caught helping you. I promised Pastor Derek that I’d set him free tonight while everybody else is in the chapel for the wedding.”
“Won’t you get in trouble for letting me out of my room?” Hannah asked.
“If anybody notices, I’ll make up some story, maybe say you fell sick, and I was walking you over to see the nurse. During all the commotion from the explosion, I’ll say you knocked me over and ran away. I tried to catch you, but you were too fast for me.”
“Pretty lame story,” Hannah observed.
Nicole shrugged. “It is, but I’m considered a faithful follower. I think they’ll give me the benefit of the doubt.”
Another man ran past. Luckily, he didn’t turn his head or look our way. “You need to get moving.” I squeezed Hannah’s hand, then pulled mine free. “Fly, baby girl.”
Nicole tugged on Hannah’s arm. The girl resisted for a few seconds before whirling around. They raced toward the back of the camp complex.
“Please help them.” I whispered a prayer to Pastor Derek’s God.
I closed the window and returned the stack of brochures and travel guides to the cabinet. Rebecca might come check on me. I ran across the room and lay down on the bed, leaving the impression of my head on the pillow and the sheets slightly askew. If she looked at the bed, it would appear that I’d been napping when the bomb went off.
My gaze swept the room. Nothing looked out of place and nothing betrayed evidence of my search for a weapon. I sat on the brocade sofa and waited. And waited. Hours passed. Maybe Hannah had gotten away this time. If she’d been captured again, I bet Rebecca would have shown up to rub it in my face.
Finally, a key rattled in the lock, and the cabin door swung open. Rebecca swept into the room, followed by Nicole and poor, mousy Justine.
“It’s time to dress for the wedding,” she said. She stopped in her tracks, as if shocked by what she saw. “Silly me!” Rebecca slapped a hand to her brow. “I totally forgot to brush your hair after your bath. You can’t show up at your wedding with your hair looking like a rat’s nest.”
I’d finger combed my hair in an attempt to untangle the worst of the knots, but my hair was by no means silky smooth.
“Sit down right here.” Rebecca patted the desk chair and pulled a wide-toothed comb from her pocket. “I’ll make sure to get all the snarls out.”
I gritted my teeth while Rebecca yanked at my hair, painfully working out the tangles.
When she was finished, she pulled a small vial of perfume from her pocket, one of the samples I’d purloined from the inn. Not the wild-fig perfume I’d worn for Ripper—thank the universe for a small mercy—but a light floral scent. Rebecca touched the dropper to my throat and wrists, then daubed a few drops between my breasts. She winked slyly, as if we shared a secret about what Pastor Bill liked.
The three women helped me into the wedding gown, a loose-fitting prairie dress with a high neck and long sleeves. It was a hot day. The tall, pleated collar and wrist-length sleeves would make me drip with sweat.
“There’s nothing like a modest wedding dress to showcase a woman’s glories. Stand in front of the mirror so you can see how pretty you look,” Rebecca ordered.
In my mind’s eye, I saw Ali bent over double, hooting with laughter. God, I missed my best friend.
I wished I could tell Rebecca that she didn’t have to try so hard to make me feel powerless and miserable. I didn’t give two hoots about her passive-aggressive jibes or her phony compliments. I wasn’t her rival for Bill’s attentions.
I was a woman with a plan that would knock the queen bee right off her throne.
I stepped up to the mirror and dutifully studied my reflection. The dowdy dress was sewn from a heavy white cotton fabric with a white-eyelet overlay.
Rebecca fastened a bonnet over my head. A bonnet. That tied with a bow beneath my chin. Add a pair of pantaloons and I’d look like Little House on the Prairie meets Little Bo Peep.
The white gown would show blood. Lots of it.
“I need to fetch Hannah for the wedding,” Nicole said. “Pastor Bill wants her to attend.”
I met her eyes briefly, knowing exactly what she was up to. It was almost time to spring Pastor Derek from his jail cell.
With a flick of her hand, Rebecca dismissed Nicole.
At a quarter past five o’clock, Rebecca beamed at me as if we were best friends. “We should be on our way. A bride should always be fashionably late for her wedding. Builds the groom’s anticipation for the wedding night, you know.”
She unlocked the door and led Justine and me toward the chapel. In the distance, a man stood guard over a break in the fence.
The double doors to the small chapel stood open, probably to let in a cooling breeze. Deacon Morris waited for us in the vestibule and offered me his arm, apparently standing in for my father when I walked down the aisle.
Ruth—from the laundry—played a hymn on the piano.
I’ve never been one of those girls who fantasized about my dream wedding. Riffling through wedding magazines, swooning over engagement rings and dresses, that was Ali’s thing, not mine. If I imagined my wedding, my fantasies ran more toward the wedding night and the man I’d eventually share my life with.
If I had fantasized about the perfect storybook wedding, this farcical ceremony would have been a bitter disappointment. Instead of bridesmaids, Rebecca and Justine—my future sister wives—traipsed up the aisle ahead of me. Instead of the man of my dreams waiting for me at the altar, a paunchy fifty-something wearing a
brown suit and a bolero tie stood in his place. Deacon what’s-his-name, a bald man of about fifty, held a Bible, ready to officiate over this sham wedding.
Deacon Morris and I made our way up the aisle with a ridiculous step-pause-step-pause gait, almost as if I couldn’t make up my mind if I wanted to keep moving forward. Our awkward shuffle reflected reality. Pastor Bill was the very last man I wanted to marry. Pause. And I was absolutely determined to go through with it. Step.
The congregation stood as we passed. A little more than twenty people were in attendance. The rest—six or seven men—must have been standing guard along the camp’s perimeter or hunting for Levi.
Deacon Morris made a show of handing me off to Pastor Bill, relinquishing my arm with a flourish and a bow. Pastor Bill took my hand.
I glanced down at his pale, stubby fingers with their hairy knuckles. My gaze moved to his face. He met my eyes and leered, his eyes alight with triumph.
Not so fast, buddy. You won’t like the little surprise I have waiting for you in our marriage bed.
Deacon what’s-his-name cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God and these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
EIGHTEEN
Ripper
Three days ago
Kyle stared at me, bug-eyed and limbs locked in place. He’d stepped backwards onto a loose board and something clicked. I gingerly lifted the loose board and shook my head. The thin wood covering the cartridge trap had splintered under the pressure of Kyle’s weight. The cartridge had slipped off the firing pin, thank fuck. Otherwise it would’ve blown a hole in his foot.
That was a close call. Too fucking close. First Vince fell into a Punji stake trap, now Kyle came within a hair’s breadth of triggering a cartridge trap. Only dumb luck spared him from a catastrophic injury. Gotta think that no matter how good their intentions, this was no job for untrained amateurs.
“We’re heading back to Nicole’s cabin,” I announced. “You two will stay there, keep an eye on Mac. I’ll come back here to search for the man responsible for all of this.” I waved a hand at the cabin and surrounding land, which was riddled with booby traps.
Dodging a bullet—literally—took the starch outta Kyle, who usually never shied away from arguing with me. “Yeah. Okay,” he said, his face pale. I nodded, eager to get moving before he had the chance to rally his frayed nerves.
“You can see how Vince is doing before you check on Mac,” I said to Sahdev, trying to forestall any argument from the doctor by appealing to his professionalism.
“Very well.”
I led the way as we carefully retraced our steps back to our campsite to gather up our gear. Kyle untied Hector, dropping to his knees to hug my dog. Figured Country Club was still rattled, and fussing over Hector would give him time to settle down, so I didn’t rush him. Soon enough we were back on the trail, hiking toward the road.
Not a mile away from the cabin, two voices broke the silence. I signaled a halt and ordered Kyle and Sahdev to take cover on the side of the trail, before stalking toward the sound. The bald deacon I’d seen kissing up to Pastor Bill approached me on the path, a teenage boy at his side. Their heavy footsteps and loud chattering were enough to alert anybody nearby to their presence.
“Hey!” the teenage boy called, waving frantically when he spied me.
“Hello,” the deacon shouted.
I sighed. Stealth and caution were concepts that clearly eluded these guys.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded when they drew near.
“The pastor sent us. After seeing the extent of Vince’s injuries, Pastor Bill decided that you might need backup,” the deacon said.
The teenage boy nodded eagerly. “Yeah. We’re here to help.”
Swell.
“Don’t need backup,” I said. Last thing I needed was a pair of loud, inexperienced bumblers getting in the way of my search.
The teenager’s shoulders slumped, and his lower lip jutted out.
“We have our orders,” the deacon said. “We’re staying.”
I shrugged. “Have it your way. I’m taking Kyle and Sahdev back to Nicole’s cabin. I’ll be back midafternoon. The place is crawling with booby traps. Safest thing would be for you two to hunker down and wait for me.”
“I think we can manage without you for a few hours.” The deacon smiled, but his eyes looked frosty.
Did I give a rat’s ass that I’d offended the man. Nope. I looked at the teenager. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Tyler.”
“Tyler, the man who planted the booby traps is smart and dangerous. Be careful where you step and watch your back.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I won’t do anything stupid.”
Pastor Bill’s men continued toward the cabin while Kyle, Sahdev, and I headed back to the trailhead. Half an hour after we parted ways, a loud boom fractured the quiet morning. I turned toward the sound. Smoke and flames billowed into the sky.
Fuck. The fools must’ve triggered a bomb.
I turned and ran back toward the cabin, Hector at my heels. Kyle and Sahdev following behind.
“Watch for tripwires when you get close to the cabin,” I called over my shoulder before racing ahead. A week after recovering from the flu, Kyle couldn’t match my stamina, and I bet Sahdev would stick by his side to keep an eye on him.
Approaching the cabin, I navigated quickly through the tripwires, one hand on Hector’s collar to keep him close at my side. We splashed through the creek, and I caught sight of the cabin. The explosion had reduced it to a flaming heap of timber and stone. The deacon knelt a dozen yards from the structure, cradling Tyler’s body in his arms.
“He ran ahead of me and opened the door. I called to him to stop, but he didn’t listen. The door must’ve been rigged to set off the bomb.”
Shit. The kid totally blew off my warning. The post-pandemic world didn’t forgive mistakes, and one bone-headed move could snuff out a life.
I crouched beside the pair to verify that Tyler was indeed dead. One look at his charred body confirmed it. Poor dumb sap.
The man who occupied this cabin was now responsible for killing one man and hobbling another. He had to be brought to justice, not of the legal variety, but the kind I’d deliver with the business end of my Colt.
The flames and the smell of singed flesh must have agitated Hector, who whined and pressed against my side. I laid a hand on his head, then turned at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Oh, shit.” Kyle dropped to his knees and retched at the sight of Tyler’s scorched and blackened corpse. Sahdev pulled a bottle of water from his pack and handed it to Kyle, who rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face.
It’d take hours for the fire to burn out. Fortunately, whoever built the cabin had cleared the timber and brush from around the structure, and the creek wrapped halfway around the spot. With any luck, the flames would die down without jumping to the forest. And it had rained two days ago, thank fuck. We might’ve dodged a bullet here. Well, all of us except Tyler.
“We’ll bury Tyler here,” the deacon announced. “There’s no point in going to the trouble of hauling the body through the woods and back to the camp. We don’t have a consecrated cemetery, and Tyler doesn’t have family to visit the grave. This will do for him.”
You didn’t leave a fallen brother behind for any reason, especially lame-ass ones like the deacon just spouted. No point in hauling Tyler back through the woods? Shit, I’d hiked miles through enemy territory with a body in tow.
“The kid deserves better than to be buried alone where he was killed,” I said.
The deacon shrugged. “Perhaps that’s true, but apprehending the bomber is my top priority. Vince and now Tyler; how many others will suffer? I don’t want to spend the rest of the day attending to the dead while a criminal who threatens the living runs free. And poor Tyler’s soul will rest easier if we catch the man who did this to him.�
�
“He’s right, man,” Kyle spoke up. “Whoever did this has to be stopped. We can’t afford to spend our daylight hours moving a corpse. And we can’t stick the body under a bush while we go after the bomber because...well...it’s the woods and animals, you know? It sucks, but it is what it is.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. New world, new rules. That’s what I always told Mac. We had to adapt to the new reality. The reality was that with no law or government, it was on us to stop the bomber. Time mattered.
“You want to stick around to hunt for the bomber?” I asked Kyle.
Hands on his hips, he surveyed the scene, his gaze passing over the flames licking at the demolished cabin and Tyler’s crispy corpse. “Yeah, I do want to stick around. We have to stop this guy.”
“All right.” I dug in my pack for the carbon-steel folding shovel—good for putting out campfires—and tossed it to the deacon. “You want to bury Tyler here, you can start digging.”
He scowled at me. The deacons might eat shit from Pastor Bill, but they sure weren’t used to being ordered about by us lesser mortals. Tough.
The deacon began to dig, his expression tight and his movements jerky. Exertion colored his face beet red, and he began to pant. Didn’t exactly feel sorry for the guy—compassion is not my middle name, especially when dealing with assholes—but I didn’t want him keeling over and leaving us with two corpses to deal with. I grabbed the shovel and finished digging the grave. Kyle found two sticks and shaped a cross, tying the pieces together with a piece of cord from his pack.
Sahdev and I shifted Tyler’s body into the hole, then Sahdev took the shovel and covered the corpse. The deacon offered a quick, perfunctory prayer and that was it. Over and out Tyler.
The bomber proved to be a clever son of a bitch. Maybe part of it was luck, the proximity of the creek to his cabin. The man could wade through the shallow water for miles, leaving no footprints for us to track. We spent hours trying to catch his trail, only to come up empty.
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