Cassidy

by Irish Winters

  “Take it,” Tucker growled. “It ain’t no toy. It’s a P232. A pocket pistol. Packs a helluva—”

  “No.” The silver-barreled pistol looked like a water gun. Who’d be scared of that? “Like I said—”

  “Take it!”

  Jude rounded the steps and took the damned pistol, but only to shut Tucker up. The weight in his palm confirmed this was no toy. Okay, so Tucker’s generosity was unexpected. Jude tucked the weapon into his belt and bloused his shirt to conceal it.

  Tucker tossed him an extra magazine, grimacing in obvious pain at the effort. “Take this, too. The pistol holds seven rounds. It’s loaded so be careful. The mag gives you seven more. Don’t waste ’em. God, do you even know how to shoot?”

  “I do,” Jude retorted. Maybe.

  Tucker pulled a knife out of his boot. “I’d send this KA-BAR with you, but you’ve got no place to hide it, and I need some way to defend myself in case Cain’s goons come calling.” He leaned back onto the burlap. “It would’ve been nice if your girlfriend really meant what she said, huh? Would’ve helped if she’d come back.”

  “She did and she will.” Jude came swiftly to Cassidy’s defense. He’d seen the light in her eyes. Tucker hadn’t.

  “Ha. That’s what they all say. How long’s it take to grab some gear and bust ass back here?”

  Jude had no answer. He didn’t know precisely where Cassidy had gone once she’d left him at the wall. She could be in the next town for all he knew, but she’d promised she’d return for Judith, and he trusted her.

  Tucker wiped the blade down his pant leg. “I got news for you, Poindexter. If that gal really intended on saving your dumb ass, she would’ve been here by now. Would’ve brought the rest of her team with her, too.”

  “She’ll be here,” Jude said more firmly.

  “How many guys you think she’s bringing back with her? If she comes, that is? One? Ten? A hundred?”

  Jude didn’t answer. She’d never mentioned numbers, only that she’d be bringing some serious firepower.

  “The agents on The TEAM travel in pairs, moron,” Tucker explained. “Always. Think about it. Her partner’s probably some big, beefy, black ops guy, and if he’s anything like the rest of Stewart’s guys, he’s ex-military and all muscle. He’s covered with tats and he probably smokes, drinks, and carouses. Where do you suppose she and that guy-friend snooze when they’re not getting water-boarded by the cult, huh? You think they don’t horse around when they’re on remote ops like this one? Give me a break. Everyone does.”

  Jude quit listening. Back on the steps, he on his way out. “You’re an ass, Tucker, you know that? Have a great life.”

  Tucker groaned, and Jude took that for goodbye. He pressed one hand against the cellar door and pushed upwards.

  “Bye, moron.”

  Jude didn’t answer, just shut Tucker in and walked away from the most annoying, helpful man he’d ever had the misfortune to meet.

  He scanned the garden where he could just barely make out three sisters on their knees. They faced away from him, so he turned toward the orchard. If his previous assumptions were right, Judith was in one of the homes reserved for the Elite. He intended to find her.

  A shadowy sister passed by him with a laundry basket on her hip, headed toward the clotheslines behind the dorms. Maintaining a respectable distance, he followed. Turning the corner of the final private home, the young woman began humming a melody that stopped Jude cold.

  “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Misérables. Judith’s favorite song. It was as if she were suddenly with him, singing of days when men were kind, of dreams where love would never die. She’d lived, breathed, and slept the movie score for so many days after he’d taken her to see it. Judith had danced through the halls of his home in Florida, a silken scarf tossed over her head and shoulders, as she’d transformed herself into poor Fantine.

  Jude knew the words by heart, if not by choice, only they weren’t just the score to a tragic play. They were the epitome of his daughter and her love for the downtrodden. They were her toes on the hardwood floor. Her gentle murmurs as she lost herself in the music and filled his house with light. They were pieces of her soul, the tendrils of her heart, they were—everything he loved.

  A thousand doubts assailed him. What if she wasn’t in any of those private homes? What if he searched in vain? Where else did he need to look? The barn? The milk house? The damned silo? Where might Cain have imprisoned her if she’d changed her mind and refused to go through with the wedding?

  His heart throbbed as the list of possibilities morphed into an impossible task. He was just one man. One. Desperate. Inept. Father. And Judith was everything.

  Only the woman with the clothesbasket stood nearby, still humming the song that had bludgeoned Jude’s determination into shards of doubt and hopelessness. The blurry, gray scene reflected the despair of the day. The woman looked up from her basket of clothes and offered him a shy wave. Jude waved back, hoping she was waving at him and not someone behind him. She seemed as lost as everyone else in this godforsaken cult.

  Cassidy’s promise came to him on the wind. I will find you.

  He looked around, sure he’d heard her. Goosebumps shivered across his arms and shoulders, as if she’d reached across the miles to him. Then find me now. Come to me. I need your over-confidence. I crave the stars in your eyes, and the shy smile on your lips. I need you, Cassidy Dancer. Come to me right damned now.

  Jude bowed his head. His doubt fled. She was on her way.

  With dusk just hours away, he continued to the first private home at the northern edge of the compound. He knew most of the brothers and sisters who lived there, all except this one. Hunkering down as if pulling weeds at the foundation, he strained to listen to any noises from inside. Nothing.

  Anxiety stole the saliva in his mouth. It was now or never. Jude stepped around the house to knock or peer through the window, but the crunch of boots on gravel stopped him cold. Jude pulled back and broke out in a cold sweat. The moment the door squeaked open, a man bellowed, “Where is she?”

  Jude strained to hear the woman’s quiet steady reply. “She isn’t here, Prophet Cain.”

  “I can see that. Answer me. Where’d she go? What’s going on around here? First Hank and Greg run off, now my bride!”

  “Oh, no,” the woman answered sweetly. “Tsk, tsk. Sister Chloe didn’t run off. She wouldn’t do that to you. I’m surprised you’d suspect such disloyalty from a beautiful spirit as her.”

  Jude clenched his fist. Judith. Her name is Judith.

  The tone of reproach in this woman’s voice caught him by surprise. She had a lot of nerve to talk back to Cain the way she had. She didn’t sound like one of the obedient flock, either. Jude couldn’t put his finger on it, but this woman was different. Her calm seemed to have an immediate effect on Cain, too.

  “Then where is she, Sister Melissa?” Cain’s voice mellowed. “Sister Butler said she came to see you, that you had a special wedding gift for us.”

  Jude cocked his head. Melissa? Could this be Cassidy’s Melissa?

  “I do,” she exclaimed, and Jude heard the door squeak open wider. “I’m afraid I made a quilt too beautiful for me to keep. When you announced your plan to marry this morning, I knew it was made for you and Sister Chloe. She was only here for a minute. After she saw it, I could tell she wasn’t in the best frame of mind for such an important day.”

  “Oh?” Cain sounded taken aback.

  “Yes. She seemed quite troubled,” Melissa said. “I offered her a cup of chamomile tea to settle her nerves. Most new brides are overwhelmed on the day of their wedding, but she is marrying the most important man in the country, and she is so young. Of course she’s stressed.”

  “I suppose she might be a little nervous,” he admitted.

  “Oh, she is, but do you know else what she told me?” Melissa asked.

  “Ma’am?” For the first time since entering the cult, Jude detected a note of
respect in the prophet’s tone.

  “Your new bride is happy for this day,” Melissa gushed, “but she also wanted to surprise you. Please don’t tell her that you heard it from me, but she has gone to the place of the blessing ahead of you.”

  “She has?” Cain sounded truly dumbfounded.

  Jude’s jaw dropped. Why on earth would Judith run off to such an awful place? That alone proved she didn’t have a clue what happened during the blessing.

  “Why yes.” This Melissa gal was really starting to bug Jude. She oozed honey and syrup all over the pig on her porch. It was all Jude could do to not reach out and choke the living crap out of the both of them. You’re talking about my daughter!

  “She knew the tent would already be in place. Is that okay with you?” Melissa asked, her voice full of innocence. “She told me that she needed a reverent and quiet place to meditate. Chloe wants to be in the right mental state when she is joined to her dearly beloved. She didn’t want to be a bundle of nerves. That’s how she put it. Isn’t that sweet? She wanted to be calm and beautiful so you wouldn’t feel as if you’d made a mistake in marrying a giddy child instead of a mature woman.”

  “She did?” By now the prophet sounded like a love-struck teenager listening to Melissa tell him secrets about his girlfriend.

  “Prophet Cain,” Melissa said, with a clear note of scolding. “Sister Chloe idolizes you. Surely you didn’t for one moment believe she would leave, did you?”

  “Ah n-no,” Cain stuttered. “Why no, of course not. She offered herself to me at a time when everyone else deserted me. I have no doubt she’s the one.”

  Jude heard an odd bump from inside Melissa’s house, which she promptly dismissed. “Oh, my,” she told Cain. “What a silly goose I am. I didn’t set my cup of tea all the way on my nightstand when you knocked. It fell. Oh, my.”

  “Excuse me, Sister Melissa.” Cain bowed as he stepped off her porch. “I have taken too much of your time. Thank you for your wedding gift and your very kind words. I will—”

  “Oh, don’t leave,” Melissa said. “Don’t you want to see the quilt? It’s right here.”

  With all his heart, Jude wanted her to shut the hell up. This woman was the reason the cult prospered. She was a fool through and through, someone who blindly followed and foolishly funded the evil that Lucien Cain professed as truth.

  “I must,” Cain answered politely. “This is a great day of reckoning for the church. There is much to be done, the wedding notwithstanding.”

  “Well, okay then. If you must,” Melissa demurred. “But it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding ceremony. Don’t spoil the surprise your sweet Chloe has in store for you. Promise?”

  Gag me with a spoon. I have got to get to that damned tent before Cain does.

  “I promise, Sister Melissa. My Chloe will be a beautiful bride,” Cain replied with an odd strain in his voice.

  Jude’s fists clenched as Melissa rattled on. “And the next time you stop by, I’ll make us a cup of chamomile tea, and maybe we can discuss a class on self-sacrifice and obedience I’d like to begin teaching the girls.”

  Jude gritted his teeth. The gun felt hard and solid at his belt. Yeah, well I want to teach them gun safety, self-defense, and how to kick butt.

  “Peace be with you, Sister Melissa,” the prophet said respectfully as he turned and left.

  “And with you, Prophet Cain,” she answered happily from her door, waving. “Goodbye! I’ll see you tonight at the blessing!”

  Jude waited while the prophet retreated and Melissa Jabber Jaws shut her damned door. Aggravated that he’d lost precious time listening to so much baloney, Jude had still gotten exactly what he came for. He knew where Judith was, and she was close.

  His feet flew. The place of the blessing resided within a grove of trees less than a mile away, south of the compound. Jude had only visited it once. Even now, goose flesh crept up his neck at the awful sensation that permeated the unholy ground. It felt haunted, as if the spirits of all the poor women and children Cain had robbed of their virtue still lingered.

  He had to hurry. The white four-cornered tent would have been erected by now, and Judith was there. Relief washed over Jude. He was finally on his way out of this zoo, and Judith with him. Doubt fled. She loved him, and somehow, she would be miles away from here before Tucker’s FBI friends ever knocked at the compound gate. Nearly giddy with relief, he failed to slow his pace at the corner of the granary. He should’ve.

  Blam. Oomph. Damn. He ran into someone. Someone who towered over him.

  Cain sounded surprised, too. “Brother Clark? Just the man I’ve been looking for.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Where is he?

  Cassidy headed straight to the barn. The damned board that Hank and Greg had her strapped to only yesterday morning rested against the wall by the door, probably until they needed to torture someone else. The empty washtub leaned beside it. Greg’s sinister, lying eyes came to mind. I’m so gonna make you pay.

  But no Jude.

  Treading quietly, she ventured farther into the dimly lit building. “Jude?” she called softly. “Are you in here?”

  No answer, damn it. He wasn’t there.

  At the sound of pigeons cooing and fluttering overhead, she glanced up to the rafters, expecting to see hay bales. Instead, wooden crates lined the edge of the open loft, something she’d been in no condition to notice the last time.

  “What the heck?” Climbing the rung ladder proved difficult with an egg basket, but not impossible. Within minutes, she had caught Cain red-handed. Several crate tops were already pried open. The tire iron someone had neglected to put away made opening a few more easy. Cain had guns. Lots of them.

  “Hey Boss,” she whispered. The sunbonnet had finally proven useful. It hid her earpiece. “Just located a huge stash of weaponry. Hundreds of AKs, AR-15s, Uzi’s, and a boatload of ammo.”

  “Copy that,” Alex replied from the relative safety of Melissa’s cabin. “FBI didn’t have confirmation that Cain was running guns until now. Good job.”

  “Wait.” She grunted as she pried another lid up and off. “Lots of C4 in here, too.”

  “Blasting caps? Det cord?”

  “No.” She glanced around to see if she’d missed anything. “Is this why the FBI’s involved?”

  “Partially, but it’s not why—”

  “Hold on,” she whispered. “Oh, hell. The prophet’s here. He’s holding a meeting with his Elite.”

  “In the barn?” Alex asked sharply.

  “Copy that.” She flattened to the floor and listened as several men in black robes gathered around Cain.

  “In less than two hours the purge will commence.” He gestured to three men standing together. “Brothers Alan, Mickey, and Clyde, leave now. You know what you to do.”

  The three bowed and answered as one, “We will not fail.” Then they turned and left through the front door of the barn. Cassidy strained to listen as the one and only vehicle allowed on the compound started up and drove away.

  “The rest of you will do what you’ve always done,” Cain continued. “Keep the peace. Make sure no one panics. Most sinners will be in bed by the time the cyanide starts working.”

  Cassidy increased the volume to her earpiece. “Boss? Are you getting this?”

  “Cyanide. Copy that.”

  “Tomorrow our message goes forth into the world,” Cain proclaimed.

  She rolled her eyes. This freak really thought he was something.

  “We begin with the New York subway.”

  Wait a minute. What? The New York subway?

  The Elite answered as one again. “We will not fail.”

  “The D.C. Metro, the Chicago L, Boston, and the BART will be next.” Cain’s voice increased in volume and excitement. “Once the weapons of confusion are placed, the second coming will commence.”

  “We will not fail.”

  “Those are the largest mass-transit
systems in the country,” Alex commented.

  “We expect resistance, but we will continue to strike back during the second coming.” Cain’s voice boomed. “Now go to your assigned places. Await my signal.”

  While watching the spectacle below, Cassidy caught sight of a stack of grain bags against the lowest eaves of the barn roof where the loft floor met the ceiling. “Wait a minute, Boss. There’s something else up here.”

  Quietly, she scurried over to the bags. Pulling her knife from her boot, she sliced a small hole in one of them, just small enough to pull out a small sample of whatever Cain had stashed. She crinkled her nose. “Never mind. Nothing but beans.”

  “Beans? What kind?”

  “I don’t know. Dried beans. They’re just—”

  “What color are they?”

  “Tan and black.”

  “Castor oil beans,” Alex hissed. “That son-of-a-bitch is making ricin.”

  With her mouth dry and her heart pounding, it was hard to spit out the words. “B-b-boss. The mass suicide. It’s just a distraction. His real plan is to bring the country to its knees.”

  “Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought. Ricin’s not effective for large-scale chemical warfare. It’s been tried. Get back here. Now.”

  “No.” The word of defiance slipped so quickly from her lips, she scarcely knew she’d uttered it.

  But Alex did. “Now, Dancer,” he ground out.

  “No. I have to find Jude.” There was no sense arguing, so Cassidy did the only thing she could. She turned her earpiece off. Cain seemed to be wrapping the meeting up below anyway. She couldn’t listen with Alex barking in her ear.

  “I have located Brother Cannon or Brother Clark or whatever you want to call him,” Cain bragged. “He thinks he’s fooled us, but he’ll soon understand how powerful I am. His daughter will be my wife. By the time I consummate my marriage with her, he’ll be dead. Brother Victor will make certain he witnesses the entire blessing and drinks. Nothing will interfere with the second coming. Remember, brothers. You go forth to do the will of your prophet.”