Alex pushed back in his chair, his elbows on the armrests and his fingers interlocked while he stared. “You haven’t even sighted the real Melissa yet, have you?” he asked acidly.
“No.” Damn, I’m going down in flames. “I don’t know where she is.” The truth was out. All hope for a quick turnaround faded. She’d never get back inside that compound now.
“Neither have we,” he said quietly, “and we’ve been watching very closely.”
Cassidy met his eyes. Alex wasn’t angry anymore. He’d transformed into the master strategist he was. “And that’s why we know she’s there.”
“Huh?” Okay, what? She couldn’t miss Rourke’s smirk or the twitch at the corners of Alex’s mouth, but neither could she understand how the absence of a missing woman proved her presence. “What do you mean?”
“Think better, Cassidy,” Alex prompted. “You know as well as I do that Melissa McCormack is in that compound. All the evidence confirms it.”
Evidence? Enlightenment came slowly. She stared at Alex’s blue eyes while she re-evaluated what she thought she knew. Melissa had contributed enormous amounts of her inheritance as well as McCormack family money to this cult. She was definitely one of Cain’s favored, and only the favored lived in private dwellings. Plus, she was clinically depressed when she’d disappeared from the real world. A depressed person dealing with overwhelming grief wasn’t inclined toward a normal daily routine, much less outdoor activity where an orbiting DoD satellite skimming high above the earth’s atmosphere could detect her. Oh. Oh! Melissa was in that house circled with yellow.
“So…” Cassidy couldn’t help it. She actually wiggled in her chair at this new development. “When do we leave?”
Alex smirked. “First, tell me what Cain did to you. I want to know it all. And tell me about these two contacts you’ve made. Don’t leave anything out.”
Cassidy relaxed. This kind of butt-chewing she could deal with. It didn’t take long to relate what had happened in the course of her harrowing adventure inside the compound. She described all Jude had done to help, and how she’d met his daughter, Judith.
Alex maintained his cool until she mentioned the water boarding, the near branding, and exactly what Judith’s upcoming blessing meant. The light in his eyes changed to dark and lethal. His lips thinned. It was good to see, because his feelings matched hers. She might be an impulsive agent he had to put up with, but he disliked Cain as strongly as she did.
“Almost forgot.” She jumped up and ran to her bundle of soiled clothing in the van. There, inside the dress pocket, rested the evidence. She tossed it to Rourke. “Cain’s got a morgue beneath the silo. This ought to put him away for a while.”
Rourke opened the cloth napkin carefully. “Fingers? Whew! No wonder you smelled when you showed up.” He went to the van and returned with a plastic evidence bag. In went the fingers. “Good heck. Go wash.”
Cassidy did what she was told, but she’d seen Alex’s nod of approval. Smugly, she rejoined her fellow operators once her hands were clean. “How can we get that evidence to Mother?”
“Don’t need to,” Alex replied. “The FBI has a mobile lab set up down the road. They’re on their way.”
“How long will it take before we know who those fingers belonged to?”
“Soon.” Alex arched a brow in her direction.
“Assuming Melissa is in that home, I can get to her,” Cassidy stated. “You know I can.”
“I never doubted that.”
“The orchard behind her place will cover me all the way to her door.” Cassidy’s confidence increased. “The only trouble I’ll have is if she refuses to leave.”
Alex reached for the folder and pulled out a manila envelope. “Give her this.”
When Cassidy opened it, a glossy photograph fell out—a military shot of Brady McCormack in his USMC blues, the red, white, and blue unfurled behind him. The guy was damned handsome. Cocky. Sure of himself and his dream. A diehard patriot. Like her.
But coming up with the words to persuade a grieving widow to leave the cult was something else. “What do I say to her, Boss?”
Alex met her head on. “Simple. Tell her Brady might be gone, but he still loves her. That will never change. Tell her it’s time to go home.”
Chapter Twelve
“Dumb ass!”
Jude picked himself up off the ground, mad as hell, and his lip bloodied. He and Tucker Chase were battling behind the barn, both ready to knock the other’s head off, only this guy was a much better fighter. Tucker was a scrapper. Jude was an accountant. He hadn’t landed a punch yet.
Tucker sure had. He charged again, his chin tucked to his chest and his fist swinging. “I had it handled!”
Jude faked to the left, thinking he could dodge Tucker’s hard right. No such luck. Tucker’s meaty fist hit Jude’s chin solid, knocking his head back and his glasses off. Down he went.
“It wasn’t your place,” Jude mumbled even as he knelt, spitting blood into the dirt. “It was my fault! My place to make everything right, and—”
“You’re a moron, you know that, Cannon?” Tucker pulled him to his feet only to punch him in the face and knock him down again.
Jude took the hit as more blood and spit flew. Yeah. He’d been told he was stupid before, most recently by Rachel but now he felt more like the hog carcass hanging by its rear legs inside the smokehouse. His gut hurt, his nose was bleeding, and his face wasn’t doing much better. Staggering to his feet, he wasn’t about to let Tucker get the best of him. “B-b-but...”
“But nothing! Shit! I told you to get her the hell out of here, but no. You gotta play hero, and now your daughter’s stuck in the middle of a war zone.” Tucker kicked Jude’s feet out from under him, and this time when Jude fell, he decided to stay down. He was no match for Tucker. The man knew how to fight. Jude didn’t. If he could only see.
Tucker wouldn’t let up. Grabbing Jude’s shirt collar, he jerked him out of the dirt. Nose to nose, he bellowed, “I’m not a freaking bum and neither are you. You’ve screwed every shitting thing up.”
“I... I…”
“Shut up!” Tucker shoved Jude back to his ass, his elbows behind him.
“What do you want? What? Just to beat the crap out of me?”
“Yes,” Tucker growled. “No. Hell. What difference does it make now?” He stilled, his index finger to his ear.
“God, you think I don’t feel like shit already?” Jude cringed, fully anticipating a kick to the head or something equally as painful. But Tucker had pressed his palm to his ear. “Say again?”
“I said—”
“Damn it, Cannon. Shut the hell up.” Tucker turned his back. Tucker seemed to be talking to someone else, someone inside his ear. “Say again. I’ve got some idiot here who can’t shut his friggin’ trap.”
Jude spat the accumulating blood from his mouth and blew more of it out of his poor nose. Neither action alleviated the red stream running from his nostrils, so he leaned back and let it run down his throat.
“Copy that,” Tucker said to whoever. “What are you doing now, dumbass?”
“Who? Me? I’m trying to stop bleeding.” Jude closed his eyes at Tucker’s stupid question. Everything out of his mouth was just plain mean. Leave me alone.
Still, the man crouched beside him. Tucker jerked Jude forward and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb without asking. “Lean forward, idiot. Keep your head down. Spit. Pinch here. Shit. What the hell were you growing up, a mama’s boy? Don’t you know anything?”
“What were you? A bully?” But Jude did as he was told and rattled off a few things he knew as once more, he faced a puddle of his blood. “I know debits. Credits. Account payables. Depreciation. Amortization schedules.
“No kidding? You’re a shithead tax man?” Tucker asked, his hand still clamped onto Jude’s shoulder.
“Accountant,” Jude mumbled, sounding like a total nerd with his nose plugged up like it was
. “Did you break it?”
“Hope so.”
“You’re an ass, Chase.”
“Yeah. Pretty much. You ever serve?”
“Serve what?”
“In the military, moron.”
“Uh-uh.” Jude wiped his bloody chin on his sleeve. The bleeding had slowed. Maybe Tucker knew something after all.
“That explains why you’re such a wuss. I’m gonna start calling you Sally.”
Jude pushed Tucker’s hand off his shoulder, not willing to engage in childish name-calling. “Who are you really? Army? Air Force? Marines?”
“Hell, no. I’m Navy property—least I was.” Tucker pushed to his feet and stomped away, and for a second, Jude thought maybe he’d made him mad. Good riddance.
But Tucker returned. Dropping to one knee, he stuck something in Jude’s face. “Here.”
Oh. My glasses. “Thanks,” Jude muttered as he fingered his mangled spectacles. The wire rims were bent and both lenses were shattered but still in place. He held them up to his eyes, squinting in the hope he could see through the cracks. Not so much. He hated being blind, and that was pretty much what he was—a wuss according to Tucker, in danger of losing his daughter, and blind as a bat now, too. “Damn it. You broke ’em.”
Tucker slapped one hand to his muscled thigh and growled. In between name-calling and cursing, the man did a lot of growling. “You got another pair?”
“No. I don’t got another pair.” Jude mimicked the dumb question, letting his sarcasm speak for itself.
“How bad is your vision anyway?” Tucker’s voice softened.
“Bad enough that I can’t see anything, thanks to you.” Jude turned his shoulder, shrugging off Tucker’s misplaced concern. He didn’t need anything except distance from this muscle-bound Neanderthal and a way to help Judith. “Who are you, anyway?”
“You’ve never been in a fight before, have you?” Damn it. The man wouldn’t answer a direct question, either.
“No,” Jude admitted. “Never needed to.”
Tucker’s hand was on his shoulder again, and one more time, Jude brushed the unwelcomed attempt at camaraderie off. It was too late for friendship.
Tucker blew out a big sigh. “You’re in for one helluva fight now. This is gonna get ugly before it’s over. Sure wish you’d listened to what I told you before.”
“Stop already!” Jude snapped, sick to death of the drama. “You think I don’t know that my only daughter’s marrying a child molester from hell? It freaking sucks! What the hell else do you know? And who were you talking to before?”
“Look around, Jude,” Tucker said steadily, his hand returned to Jude’s shoulder. “You want to know why no one was watching the compound last night when you and your girlfriend hightailed it out of here? You want to know why Cain’s good ol’ boys aren’t trying to stop this little meeting we’re having right now? You ever think about any of that? Hell, do you think at all?”
Jude clenched his fist, wishing he were equal in physical strength to this rough-spirited jerk so he could return as good as he got. Those were both good questions, but he was tired of playing Tucker’s game. Besides, it only confirmed what he suspected. Tucker had been watching him for some time now. “Would you just answer a question for once? Do you know how to do that?”
Tucker’s voice dropped a few decibels. “I was talking to my superiors in D.C. just now. Yeah, I saw you and that blonde troublemaker sneak out of here last night. The reason no one’s running security around this place is because Cain and his henchmen are too busy preparing for blessing, only this one is going to be the mother of all blessings.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They’ve got a boat-load of valium.” Tucker gripped Jude’s shoulder hard before he let his hand drop. “And cyanide. You know what that means?”
“No.” Jude’s heart fell. “I mean, yes. I know what that means.” I think.
Tucker nodded. “You saw what happened with the congregation. These folks are discontent, and discontent people breed rebellion. I was surprised they stood up to Cain the way they did back there. There are a lot of brave people in this northern group, but that’s the last thing Cain wants. He plans to eliminate every last one of them tonight. He only wants true followers. This stupid charade ends in...” Tucker looked up at the sun, “six hours or so. Maybe less.”
“My daughter,” Jude groaned.
“Yep.” Tucker pursed his lips and sighed. “She’s in a bad way. If he can keep his hands off her until the blessing, she’s still going to wind up Mrs. Lucien Cain before the night’s over.”
“And then what?” Jude cringed at the thought of Cain’s hands on Judith, but he needed to know the whole wicked plan.
“Before the so-called marriage ceremony, they’ll force everyone to celebrate with a toast out of the old man’s private wine cellar, only it will be laced with poison. By then, your daughter will be incapacitated. She won’t have to drink. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Jude answered, his heart pounding at what lay ahead for his pure baby girl.
Tucker nodded. “I’m sorry, but we’re all invited to witness Cain’s marriage. He’s supposed to announce the second coming or something just as full of shit. He’ll have his dogs there to make sure we drink. You can count on it. Everyone who drinks will die.” He clapped a hand to Jude’s back before he pushed up off the ground. Don’t worry. I’ll stay close by.”
Jude tucked his broken glass frames into his shirt pocket, and wished Cassidy were with him instead of Tucker. “How do you know so much?”
Tucker tapped his ear. “I’m FBI, Jude. We know everything.”
“But I don’t see an earpiece or a wire or—”
“Cochlear implant. I’m hardwired. Part of the damned job.”
Jude let that unexpected news sink in for about two seconds. “You’ve got Cain’s place bugged, don’t you?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve been in here longer than you or your little girlfriend.” Tucker turned toward the empty yard where a half hour earlier they’d been part of the rebellious congregation.
“Is Judith in Cain’s place?”
“To be honest?” Tucker sighed. “I don’t know. We’re hearing a lot of chatter about tonight, so my guess is no. They wouldn’t allow your daughter near them while they were planning mass suicide.”
“Then where is she?”
“Maybe stashed with Jerusha.”
“No,” Jude muttered. “Cain’s done with Jerusha. That’s why she took off like her dress was on fire.”
“Now you’re thinking. You’re right. Cain’s never mentioned marriage before today, either. He must want your daughter to authenticate his role as the loving father of this messed up congregation,” Tucker admitted. “Damn. I can’t imagine she’d be with Greg or Hank, either.”
Jude’s heart all but stopped at that awful possibility. “Why? What are they doing?”
Tucker lifted one shoulder. “My guess is nothing to do with religion if they’ve got Jerusha. You do know who your girlfriend is, don’t you?”
“You mean Cassidy?”
“Yeah. Cassidy Dancer. As in, Junior Agent Dancer.” Tucker caught his eye. “That gal’s part of an elite group operating out of either their Virginia office or Seattle. They call themselves The TEAM. They’re damn good, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see one of them in here, especially not with you.”
“Give it a rest, Tucker. I know who she is. We talked.”
Tucker chuckled softly. “Get used to it. You’re stuck with me, and your girlfriend needs to mind her own damned business. She’s trouble. You’d do good to stay away from her. The FBI’s handling this cult’s take down. We’re not going to make the mistakes we made last time.”
“Last time?”
“The name David Koresh ring a bell?”
Oh, hell. That last time. When members of the Branch Davidian cult in Texas burned to death in a standoff with the FBI. Ju
de’s heart plummeted. “What are you guys going to do?” he asked warily, no longer sure he wanted to be a part of Tucker’s plan. Between Jonestown and the Branch Davidians, cults were an ugly phenomenon, but the FBI’s blunders in confronting them were nothing to brag about, either.
“What do you mean us guys? You’re in this, too, Cannon. Shit. My guys were set to intercept Cain, but now that you got all self-righteous and heroic on me...”
Jude held his breath. Tucker was right. If Jude had kept his pride in check earlier, not only would Judith not be trapped inside Cain’s web, but Tucker might be where he was meant to be for this FBI operation to be successful. Maybe that was why he’d confessed as quickly as he had.
But just as that assumption registered, Jude knew better. It didn’t matter what he or Tucker did. It didn’t matter what the FBI planned, either. He’d seen the look in Judith’s eye. That look. She’d intended to offer herself as a scapegoat the moment Jerusha named Priscilla. That was how Judith was made. She couldn’t bear to watch another suffer.
In a way, she shared a common trait with Tucker. Both were hardwired, Tucker with an ear implant and Judith with compassion. Since the day she’d stood up to a bully who’d thought torturing a kitten was fun, Jude had been proud of her. Yeah, he’d also inherited Miss Fluffy in the process, but that straggly cat was the only thing he had left of his daughter at the moment. Even now, the shaggy beast resided in a neighbor’s home until he returned to Florida.
“Hey.” Tucker’s voice snapped Jude out of his melancholy thoughts. “You listening, fathead?”
“What?” Jude asked tiredly.
“I need you to focus. If you’re gonna help get your daughter back, you’ve got to man up and do it now.” Tucker stilled, an index finger to his ear again.
This time, Jude knew to keep his mouth shut.
“Copy that,” Tucker muttered. “Shit.”
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