“Don’t let them do this,” I pray. “Don’t let them take it away from me.”
The flame licks my palm and I scream.
My tattoo burns even more intensely. Speak.
I obey blindly, and start talking, not sure what words will come out.
“This man does not speak for God,” I yell over the chanting from the crowd. A few people stop chanting, so I yell it again. “This man does not speak for God.”
The crowd quiets down some, surprised I’m talking while my hand is burning.
Zeke jumps back, taking the flame away. “The God you are taught here is not the true God.” I continue. “The true God is a God of love, of life and happiness. Not of fear and pain. God loves you. He wants to help you. He wants to heal you. He wants to return you to your families. He wants to make your life whole again.”
The room grows quiet. I know my words are inadequate, but the trance slips away a little.
“She speaks blasphemy,” a young woman shouts.
“She speaks truth,” another replies.
“I want God to love me, not punish me,” a young man chimes in.
“I want my family,” a tiny voice from the back calls out.
“Stop this,” Zeke’s voice shakes the walls. He faces the group with the candle in one hand and the knife in the other. “Don’t let her trick you.”
I push the tiny advantage I’ve gained. “Zeke is the one tricking you,” I continue. “He wants you to follow him, not God.”
“She speaks for the devil,” Zeke says.
“I speak for God.” My voice echoes off the walls, calm and clear. “God does not want you to do this.”
The crowd shifts uneasily in their seats, confused.
Zeke raises his arm high, the knife glinting in the candle light, “By the blade!”
He turns and barrels towards me.
Chapter 23
Lucas
Captain Simmons looks up from his computer when I enter his office. “Hartley, take a seat.” He motions to the hard plastic chair in front of his desk with his meaty hand.
“You asked to see me?” I flash a smile I hope will diffuse the situation, but Simmons is immune to my charms.
“You know Brinkstone was put on leave for leaking this story about the girl in the coma to the press.”
I nod and try the smile again. “Unfortunate he chose that plan of action.”
“Unfortunate he had a wild story to give to the press in the first place.” He leans his considerable bulk forward in his chair.
“I don’t follow, sir.”
“If you hadn’t taken that woman to the hospital, hadn’t given her access to a victim under armed guard. A victim of attempted murder, no less. If that woman hadn’t said those crazy things, Brinkstone would have had nothing to tell anyone.” He leans a little further across his desk. I get the feeling he wants to climb over and throttle me.
“Gabby McAllister gave us the only leads we have in this case,” I point out.
“That woman does not work for this department. I realize she helped us in the past, but that shouldn’t have happened either.” His moustache twitches with his anger.
My own anger bubbles inside me, but I force my voice to remain even and respectful. “Without her, we wouldn’t have caught the man. Without her now, we wouldn’t even know who the girl in the hospital is. Without her, Nolan would have died alone in the rain, his body waiting for some stranger to find him.” I hold his eyes, dare him to deny the logic.
“Without her, I’d still have control over my detectives.” Sharp and to the point.
I waver between wanting to scream in Gabby’s defense and wanting to please my boss. This isn’t the first time he’s taken me to task about some point of an investigation. He likes to throw his weight around and I always let him. He’s the Captain. I don’t have to like him, but I have to put up with his ways.
I choose to please him. “You always have control, sir. I’m sorry you disagree with my method of using all the tools available in this investigation.” He doesn’t miss the passive-aggressive jab.
“This psychic garbage is not a tool, it’s a distraction. Your fascination with that woman makes us all look bad. We are trained police officers, we don’t need a crystal ball to solve crimes.” He sits back in his chair dismissively.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” The words taste ugly on my tongue.
“You’re a good detective, Hartley. Don’t let her ruin your career.” He turns back to his computer, dismissing me.
I feel chained to the hard plastic chair. I want to say more, I want to explain how Gabby is important, is useful.
Simmons sends me a you’re still here? look.
With my teeth clenched painfully, I leave his office.
My anger simmers as I stare at the cracks in the ceiling above my desk. For years, I’ve defended Gabby against narrow minded people who don’t understand her. In high school, one of my baseball teammates ran his mouth one too many times. He found himself slammed against his locker, as I threatened him to say just one more word about her.
Gabby never knew about that incident, or the other, less violent, incidents over the years. Snide comments, open hostility, vandalism of her home. I’ve dealt with those quietly, under her radar. There’s nothing I can do against Captain Simmons, no matter how much I wanted to climb over his desk and make him apologize for calling her gift garbage.
Frustrated, I take my eyes off the ceiling and sit forward at my desk. I need to file the paperwork on my interview with Gabby from earlier. I busy myself with the tedious task and let my anger fade.
A while later, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. The ID says it’s my ex-wife, Amber. I sigh heavily and answer.
“Hi, Daddy,” my eight-year-old daughter, Olivia’s, happy voice changes my mood instantly.
“Ollie-bug, hi baby.” The tension in my shoulders floats away, and I feel them physically sink into a more comfortable position.
“Happy Halloween,” she says.
“It is Halloween, isn’t it?” I ask. “Are you going Trick or Treating tonight?”
“I get free candy, so yes I’m going. Mom’s taking me to the fancy neighborhood with the big candy bars.”
“That’s my girl. Save some for me, will ya?”
“If I don’t eat it all first,” she giggles. The notes dance into my ears, the most beautiful music.
“What are you going as? A monster?” I tease. Olivia is all pink and sparkles, a monster would be the last choice of costume.
“Ooh, no. I’m going as a princess. I have the most beautiful dark pink dress and a huge tiara.”
“Princess? What a surprise.” Olivia has gone as a princess for the last four years. “Make sure your mom takes pictures.”
“I will, Daddy.”
Dustin walks into the station and takes a seat at his desk. I can tell by his face he has news. I hate to get off the phone with Olivia, but duty calls.
“And save me some candy. Love you, Ollie-bug. I’ll see you next weekend.” Olivia says her good-byes and I hang up. The tension in my shoulders climbs back and a wistful longing for my daughter slithers through me. I’m used to the feeling and practiced at pushing it away. I can’t change things, so why dwell on them.
“You look like you have news,” I say to Dustin.
“Addlynn’s real name is Claire Margaret Dawson.” He says without preamble.
Excitement tingles. “How’d you find that out?”
Dustin raises his eyebrows and shrugs one shoulder, but doesn’t say it out loud.
“Is there anything she can’t find out?” I ask.
“It was a group effort, actually.” Dustin sounds a little hurt. He tells me about the epiphany at Grandma Dot’s and the name of the man with a matching scar.
“Finally, real clues,” I say.
“Technically, it’s conjecture and gossip, but we have something to work with.” Dustin turns to his computer. “I’ll look into the Claire Dawso
n case. You track down Mac Plamento and get him in here for another round of questions.”
I reach for the phone on my desk to contact Mac Plamento. It rings before I touch it. “Hartley,” I answer.
“Detective, I have a Preston on the line,” Regina from dispatch says. “He’s adamant to talk to you. Says it’s an emergency.”
“Preston? Put him through.” Dustin recognizes the name and looks up, worried.
“Detective Hartley?” The man’s voice shakes just a little. I put him on speaker phone so Dustin can hear too.
“Preston, is Gabby okay?” I ask in a rush.
“Yes. Well, no,” he stammers. Dustin comes around to my side of the desk and leans closer to the phone.
“Preston, Detective McAllister here. What’s wrong with my sister?”
“She broke into the cult compound.”
“What?” Dustin’s voice is sharp and angry.
“There was a meeting going on and she said she had to go to it.” He sounds scared.
“You let her go alone?” I snap.
“I tried to stop her, but she went anyway.”
I don’t understand what Gabby sees in this man. “Where are you?” I demand. He gives us the address.
“Stay there, we’re on our way.”
I punch the phone to end the call.
“He just let her go alone?” My blood boils. “She’d better be okay, or he won’t be.”
Dustin has the good sense not to respond.
“Simmons called me into his office today,” I tell Dustin as we drive to the address Preston gave.
“Me, too. Said he wasn’t happy about Gabby’s involvement.”
“He even said the whole Lacey Aniston mess was her fault. Said she makes us look bad.”
Dustin just looks out the window.
“You agree with him?” My voice raises.
“I just wish she’d mind her own business. Like this right now. She went barreling into a dangerous situation by herself. A normal person would call us to look into it. She just goes and gets herself into trouble. Then we have to save her.”
My earlier anger has been simmering for hours, it boils now. “Why don’t you ever cut her some slack? You always look for the worst in her.”
“I don’t look for it, she just brings it out.”
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
“You don’t even try to see things from her side. Do you have any idea what life is like for her? People treat her like a freak. She has no friends to speak of. This boyfriend is useless. Even her brother doesn’t like her.”
“I like her,” he tries to defend himself, but it sounds false.
“You have a strange way of showing it. She just wants to be accepted for who and what she is. She just wants someone to care about her.”
Dustin continues to stare out the window. “She has Grandma Dot,” he says to the glass.
“She needs her family, her whole family.” The dark countryside holds Dustin’s attention. His silence fans the flames of my anger.
“You’re an ass, Dustin,” I mutter.
He finally looks away from the window. “What did I do?”
“I would give anything to have my own sister back. Your sister is right in front of you, but you don’t seem to care.”
“I care,” he protests. “I’m going right now to get her out of this crazy mess she’s in.”
I blow air in exasperation. “You don’t get it. She needs you as a brother, not as a cop.” I try to stop the words from coming, but I can’t. “You have Alexis and Walker and Grandma Dot. You have a sister you ignore and mom in prison you don’t even acknowledge. You don’t appreciate any of them.”
“Where the hell do you get off judging me?” Dustin snaps.
The words I’ve held back tumble out. “You keep trying for this shiny perfect family. It can never happen unless you accept the family you already have for all they are and all they’re not. Including Gabby.”
“You’re just in love with her,” he snides. “Don’t deny it.”
“This isn’t about me.” My cheeks grow hot and I’m glad it’s dark in the car.
“We’ve been friends a long time, Lucas. Let’s drop this and forget we ever had this conversation.”
My head spins a little. I’m shocked at all the things I said out loud. Wish I could shove the words back inside. It’s really none of my business what Dustin does or doesn’t do with his family.
“I’m just worried about her.” The quiet truth. “Guess I got a little carried away.”
Dustin smacks my arm good-naturedly. “She makes us all crazy. I get it.”
The tension in the air clears and we drive in silence. Both of us put our feelings back where they belong and focus on the job ahead of us.
“I think this is the place.” Dustin points to a gravel track cutting through some heavy woods.
I turn the cruiser down the lane and crawl along the narrow drive.
“Man, they’re really hidden back here,” I say.
My headlights land on a car parked in front of a gate. “That’s some fence,” Dustin says.
Preston waits by his car, gives us a nervous wave. I turn off the engine and lights, and the woods go dark.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Preston says as we join him.
“Where is she?” I ask, cutting him off.
“We followed the fence until she found the hole where Addlynn and Nolan escaped. Don’t touch that,” he yells as Dustin reaches for the gate handle. “It’s electrified. Gabby got shocked real bad earlier.”
“Wow, friendly people.” Dustin backs away from the gate, looks up at the tall fence with barbed wire strung on the top.
“Show us where she went in,” I tell Preston. We follow him along the fence. Preston seems jumpy and it makes me nervous. I’ve never completely trusted the man. It crosses my mind he’s lured us out here into the woods, and we have no proof Gabby is even here.
I touch the gun on my hip and feel better.
“How much further?” Dustin asks after we turn a corner and continue into the wilderness.
“Not too much longer now. There’s the house,” Preston points through the trees to a large oddly shaped building in a clearing. “The meeting room, or church, or whatever you call it is just down here.”
The building comes into view across the clearing. Pale lights shine through the windows onto the grass. Occasional words drift to us. “Some kind of meeting going on?” I ask.
“That’s what Gabby said was happening. Right before she climbed through the hole and left.”
The chain link is pushed back near the ground, just large enough for someone to squeeze through.
“It’s not electric here?” Dustin asks.
“Guess not, because she went in.”
Occasional shouts reach us from the meeting. “How do you want to do this?” Dustin asks. “We don’t have a warrant.”
More shouts ring out across the clearing. “Probable cause?” I ask.
“Are you guys just going to stand here and talk?” Preston says.
I turn on the man. “You should have gone with her in the first place. We can’t just break into private property without cause.”
“Does that count as cause?” Preston motions to the building.
Chapter 24
Gabby
Zeke’s bulk rushes me with the knife raised high. I don’t know what “by the blade” means, but the threat of the glinting knife is obvious. Tied to the cross, I’m powerless to fight him off.
“Zeke, this isn’t what we agreed to,” the leader yells and grabs Zeke’s arm. “Killing her wasn’t part of the plan.”
The leader’s small frame is no match for Zeke’s bunched muscles. “Get off me, Jacob.” Zeke pushes the leader away. Jacob lands on his rear in front of his followers. Twitters of surprise fill the room. “You always were weak,” Zeke sneers. Jacob looks at him with surprise. “Lock the doors,” Zeke commands.
<
br /> A few young men stand up, obviously ready for the order. One goes outside, and the sound of a board locking into place on the other side reaches us. A young man tries to open the door, but it’s locked from the outside.
“It’s good,” he calls to Zeke.
The crowd rustles, nervous energy flowing down the aisles.
Zeke’s eyes burn with a terrifying zeal. “Now we do things my way,” he says.
“You can’t do this,” Jacob says, climbing to his feet. “This is my church, you can’t take over.”
Zeke laughs in his face, and Jacob recoils.
“Sit down, old man,” he says.
Jacob hesitates, then makes a decision. “I won’t let you do this.” He rushes Zeke again.
Zeke is ready for the attack and swings the knife at Jacob.
It plunges into his chest in one fast arc of shining blade. Jacob falls to the ground and Zeke still holds the knife. He raises it high, blood dripping from the metal.
“By the blade,” he screams again, his voice wild, his eyes turned heavenward.
“Jacob.” A woman in the front row springs from her seat and plows into his bulk. I recognize her from my visions as the woman Addlynn called mother.
Unprepared for her attack, Zeke stumbles backwards, struggles to regain his footing. The woman keeps pushing. The knife falls from his hand as he falls into the bank of candles on the ceremonial table at the front.
He squeals in pain as the flames catch his clothes, singe his hair. Lit candles tumble everywhere, catching the heavy drapes behind the table on fire.
The flames spread quickly up the drapes. The stupefied congregation watches in horror as Zeke regains his feet, flames consuming his clothes. He squeals and stumbles, a halo of fire surrounding his body like a demon. He falls to the ground, rolls on the flames.
The congregation suddenly realizes the danger they are in and rush the door. A sea of bodies climb over the benches, over each other to escape. They beat on the door, but it won’t open.
We’re trapped.
And I’m tied to the cross.
The flames have spread to the wooden walls and roll across the ceiling in hungry fingers. Thick smoke swirls through the room.
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