by Merry Jones
‘No one was at the door. I just walked in.’
What? No one was guarding the building? ‘What are you doing here?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Eemah,’ Chloe came over, grabbed her leg.
‘Tell me.’ Harper’s voice was low, threatening. ‘What do you want with Hagit?’
‘Nothing. Like I said . . .’
‘Eemah,’ Chloe repeated, louder.
‘Were you planning to help Travis?’ She took a step closer, pointing a finger at his chest. ‘Trying to finish what he screwed up – that final sacrifice? That would get you back into your pastor’s favor, wouldn’t it? Even get you back on the council.’
Lowell’s eyebrows rose; he shook his head, kept backing away from her until he was flat against the wall.
‘How were you going to do it?’
‘Do what?’ His hands went up, defensively.
‘EEMAH!’ Chloe shouted.
‘Just a second, sweetie.’ Harper glanced down to quiet her.
Lowell used that moment, flung his body forward to get to the door, bumping Harper, knocking Chloe onto the floor. Chloe was stunned, but Harper wheeled around, pouncing, taking him down. As he fell, he crashed into a table, sent a bedpan clattering to the floor. Chloe howled.
Harper was on Lowell, whispering into his ear. ‘You sonofabitch. You’re not going to hurt anyone.’
‘I wasn’t trying to.’
‘What’s the trouble? Come here, darling.’
Harper looked up. Hagit was squatting beside Chloe, comforting her; Chloe was breathless, gaping at Harper, at Lowell.
Great, Harper thought. She’d traumatized her baby. ‘It’s okay, Chloe,’ she cooed, tried to sound convincing. Lowell twisted, trying to roll over; she shoved her fist into the small of his back. ‘Mommy’s going to take this man to see the nice policemen. It’ll just take a minute. You stay here with Hagit, okay?’
‘No!’
But Hagit had already taken Chloe’s hand and was leading her to the bed. ‘I want to show you something. Look what my bed can do.’ She pushed a button, and the foot of the bed rose up. ‘You want a ride?’
Chloe nodded, enthralled.
Lowell kept protesting and whining, but Harper ignored him, straddling him while she unfastened his belt and used it to bind his hands. Then she pulled him to his feet, shoved him into the hall, through the door. They were crossing the waiting room when an alarm went off. A nurse shouted in Hebrew. The front door opened and the guards ran in.
Harper shoved Lowell toward them. ‘I found this man in Hagit’s room—’
Lowell shouted, ‘This woman assaulted me!’
But they kept running past Lowell, past Harper, through the door to the patient rooms. Oh God. What had happened? Chloe was back there, and Hagit . . .
She whirled around, following the guards, yanking Lowell by the shirt.
Lowell let out a breath. ‘Please. Untie me.’
Harper dragged him back to the door, opened it a crack. Saw two nurses running with a cart. A medic yelling. Everyone, even the guards, were rushing into a patient’s room.
The room belonging to Peter Watts.
‘I swear. I wasn’t going to hurt her.’ Lowell was almost crying. ‘Please let me go.’
Harper wasn’t paying attention. She watched the corridor, listened to orders being given in a foreign tongue. Recognized the emergency. The coordination, the reflexive responses. Felt sand on her skin, heard the buzzing of flies. The moans of the wounded.
‘I was in the wrong room. I wasn’t there to see your friend. I was there to see Peter – I swear.’
Wait. Peter? ‘Why?’
‘Why?’
‘Why do you want to see Peter? Why did you go to all the trouble of sneaking past the guards? What was so important?’
Lowell closed his eyes. Shook his head. ‘Let me go. Please.’
‘Tell me.’
He opened his eyes. ‘I’ve been on the outs with the pastor and the council.’
‘I know.’
‘I was steamed at the whole bunch of them. So I did some poking around.’
‘And?’
And I found something I thought Peter should know.’ Lowell met her eyes, lowered his voice. ‘His wife has been having an affair with Travis.’
Harper rolled her eyes.
‘His wife thinks Travis is in love with her. And that he’d marry her if not for Peter.’
The tingle of warning began on her neck even before she fully comprehended what he was saying.
‘So Peter’s wife, she decided to get rid of the problem. Lynne put that scorpion in his glove—’
‘That’s crap. Why would she think it would bite Peter? Those were my gloves.’ The tingle moved down her back, refusing to be dismissed. ‘I lent them to Peter at the site. She couldn’t have known he’d be wearing them.’
Lowell shook his head. ‘She did it. I know she did.’
The tingle penetrated her skin, got to her gut. ‘How do you know?’
Lowell shrugged. ‘This is church business. Pastor dismissed me, and I wanted to know why. Somebody had to have pushed him to do it. Somebody who resented my place at his side. So I studied up on people who might have coveted my spot, and I found out the affair. And when Peter had that accident, I nosed around and guess what? She planted the scorpion. The proof was in her dig kit.’
How could he know that? ‘What proof?’
‘Nothing much. Just a small jar with air holes poked into the top.’
Oh. Harper pictured Lynne, spilling the scorpion from the jar into the glove.
‘That’s why I came here. To warn Peter that his wife tried to kill him. And that she might try again—’
By the time he finished his sentence, Harper was on her feet, running down the hall, oblivious to the voice trailing after her, calling, ‘Wait! Come back. Untie me!’
A crowd was in Peter’s room, surrounding his bed. A doctor barked orders. Nurses scurried to obey. Guards watched, rapt, ready to assist. But, oddly, one person was missing: Lynne.
Harper took a second look. Lynne had to be there; Harper had seen her going in just moments ago and hadn’t seen her come out.
Maybe Lynne was standing in the corner, out of the doctor’s way. Harper poked her head into the room, looked around. No Lynne.
Lord. Could Lowell have been right? Had Lynne put the scorpion in Peter’s glove and come here to finish him off? Harper gestured to a guard, trying to get his attention, to ask if he’d seen Lynne. But before he responded, she realized that, if both guards were here with Peter, they weren’t at their posts. And Hagit was unprotected.
Harper flew. Hagit’s room was just across the hall, but the hall seemed elastic, stretching, expanding as she ran. Hagit had been chosen as the third lamb. Travis had tried to kill her. It was almost the ninth of Av, and Hagit was alone.
Harper propelled herself forward, leaping the final few steps, sliding across the tiled floor, flinging open the door to Hagit’s room. Seeing Hagit in bed, her arms crossed over the sheets, her jaw set in anger.
And Lynne standing beside her, pressing a scalpel to her throat.
Everyone froze.
‘Lynne, stop.’ Harper used a soothing tone, slowly scanned the room for Chloe; didn’t see her. Felt her stomach twist. Oh God. Where was she? ‘It’s too late. There’s no point in killing Hagit—’
‘It’s not too late. And nobody else can do it – not even Ramsey. Just me.’
‘It won’t do you any good. Travis doesn’t care about you; he’s moved on.’
‘What?’
‘He’s in love with someone else.’ Harper scanned the room, couldn’t find Chloe.
Lynne scoffed. ‘With Marlene? That airhead? He’ll be bored in five minutes. That woman – she was supposed to be my assistant but she was useless. No, I’m the only woman strong enough for him. And after I sacrifice the third lamb – on my own, without Marlene tagging along – he’ll see that. The conf
lagration will begin, and Ramsey and I will have eternity—’
‘Oh, please, Lynne. You don’t believe that crap. He’s conned all of you. Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘You’re wrong.’ Lynne spoke through her teeth. ‘You’re not a believer. Stay out of it.’
Under the sheet, Hagit’s belly wiggled. Oh Lord. Chloe was in there. Harper wanted to charge, knock the blade from Lynne’s hand, take her down, but she forced herself to stay still and take a breath. Hagit could die with a flick of Lynne’s wrist. And Chloe wasn’t far from the blade.
‘There’s more at stake here than just a life, Harper. This woman was chosen for the final sacrifice. Ramsey himself picked her out. I have to complete it for the sake of salvation—’
‘What happened to Peter?’ Harper interrupted. Changed the subject.
Lynne frowned. ‘Peter’s dead.’
Hagit’s belly moved again. Harper tried to divert Lynne’s attention. ‘Dead? No – he made it. They’re attending to him now . . .’
‘You’re lying. Don’t mess with me, Harper.’
‘I’m not lying. They got there in time and saved him. He’s going to be fine.’ Harper took a small step toward the bed.
Lynne shook her head, insistent. ‘No. He can’t be. I gave him mega doses of epinephrine.’ She blinked rapidly, gazing at the door. ‘What are they doing, zapping his heart?’
‘Come, see for yourself.’ Harper moved closer.
‘Oh, aren’t you clever. Sorry. Can’t join you. I have business here.’ She pushed the scalpel into Hagit’s neck, drew blood. Started uttering the Lord’s Prayer.
Hagit shuddered, made no sound, watched Harper steadily, as if assuring her that Chloe was safe. She hugged the sheets to her belly.
‘Wait, Lynne. Stop.’ Harper kept moving, was almost to the bed. ‘They’re looking for you. They know what you did to Peter—’
‘Why do you keep talking about Peter? Peter’s gone. The wimp couldn’t even get it up. Was I supposed to be celibate? Forever? Because that’s what we’re talking about. The code promises eternity – that is, if I finish the third offering.’ She smiled, but her mouth was distorted. More a grimace than a grin. She turned her attention back to Hagit, steadied herself, repositioned the scalpel, continued the prayer.
Harper swung her arm out and sent the IV pole clattering to the floor.
Lynne looked up, startled.
Hagit reached up and grabbed Lynne’s wrist, twisting it until she dropped the scalpel, enduring punches from Lynne’s other fist while Harper raced around the bed, dove at Lynne’s knees and pulled her to the floor. Pinned her there. Saw the scalpel lying loose beside the bed.
‘Hagit,’ Harper breathed. ‘Is Chloe all right?’
Hagit lowered the sheet. Chloe was lying on her belly, sucking her fingers, fast asleep.
But Lynne wasn’t finished. The doctor declared Peter dead about the same time Harper yelled for the guards. Harper stayed on top of Lynne, holding her down until they came in. When the guards were in the room, she shifted her weight and got off, expecting Lynne to lie still and surrender, outnumbered.
But as soon as Harper moved, Lynne’s arm darted out, grabbing the scalpel, raising it to Harper’s thigh, right at her femoral artery. Climbing to her feet, she wrapped an arm around Harper’s neck and held the blade to her throat. The guards aimed their weapons, ready to fire. Lynne slouched behind Harper, using her as a shield.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ one guard said. ‘We will shoot you.’
‘Be quiet,’ Lynne snapped. ‘Not a word. I swear I’ll cut her.’
‘If you cut her, you will die, too.’
Harper tried to pull away; Lynne tightened her arm, choking her. Harper’s mind raced, considering her options. She could reach up, grab Lynne’s head and twist. Or jab her eyes. Or use a foot to trip her. Or twist around and simply punch her out. But each of those alternatives would only work if Lynne didn’t react by slashing her throat. Meantime, Lynne was edging around the room, the wall to her back, Harper blocking her from the guards and their weapons. Hagit sat alert, cradling little Chloe. Harper looked at Chloe and rage coursed through her veins. She had no choice, had to obey her instincts. On the count of three, she would throw her head back, slam Lynne in the face and duck, giving the guards a clear shot.
One. Harper counted, taking a step with Lynne, feeling sharp thin steel against her neck. Wondering if she’d survive or die right here while Chloe slept, never again to hear her little girl laugh or see her run. Well, at least they were in a medical facility; maybe the staff would save her before she bled out. Two. Lynne pulled her toward the door. They moved in sync, matching steps like partners in a grim waltz. Just as Harper got to three, Lynne backed through the doorway and, with a low grunt, thrust Harper forward.
Harper fell forward, heard the door slam.
The guards shouted Hebrew commands, jumping over Harper as she got to her feet. They pulled the door open and ran into the hall, stumbling over a man with his hands bound behind his back. Lowell asked for help as they shoved him aside, one going in each direction, rifles raised, checking the rooms.
‘Untie me,’ Lowell called to Harper, but she ignored him, followed the guards. Saw a nurse in the hall, hurrying to see what the commotion was. An orderly pushing a gurney. No sign of Lynne. Harper ran to the waiting room, Lowell trailing after her. She looked out the front door. One of the guards was ahead of her, checking the street. No Lynne. Harper stopped and wheeled around: if she and the guards were out looking for Lynne, Hagit had to be, once again, unattended.
Oh God. Maybe that had been Lynne’s plan – to distract them so they’d leave Hagit long enough for Lynne to kill her. Harper cursed herself for being so gullible. Her leg throbbed and her lungs burned as she dashed back into the center, through the waiting room, down the hall to Hagit’s room, dreading what she might find. Flinging the door open.
Almost crashing into Hagit. She was carrying Chloe and Harper’s bag, apparently leaving.
‘What are you doing?’ Harper panted.
‘It’s too crazy here,’ Hagit declared. ‘We’ll be at the bungalow.’
‘No.’ Harper still had not caught her breath. ‘Hagit. You’re not going anywhere. You’re hurt.’
‘I’m not going to get better here.’
Harper looked into the hall. Saw a guard on his phone, holding Lowell by his collar, the nurse standing there with her hands on her hips. ‘Don’t leave yet. Wait here for me.’ She started to leave. Stopped in the hall to look back.
Hagit was heading into the hallway, following her.
‘Hagit. I mean it. We’ll go but not yet.’ Harper watched until Hagit turned back and the door closed. She had no time to argue. Lynne was still there, still determined to finish the sacrifice. But where? Harper went down the hall, looked in on Jimmy and Frank. Jimmy’s eyes widened and his good hand clung to his sheets when she walked in. Frank was asleep. She hurried on. Checked the rooms, one by one. Saw Wendell with his jaw wired. Peter’s body, lying under a sheet.
The guards were talking at the end of the hall. Apparently, they hadn’t found her either.
Damn. Harper wanted to shake the guards. If they had protected Hagit, none of this would have happened. But yelling at them would accomplish nothing. Police reinforcements were arriving. The building would be searched, and Lynne would be found. Meantime, while the guards were busy talking with the police, she took off with Hagit and Chloe, walking out right through the front door of the medical center.
‘Hey,’ one of the guards shouted. ‘Wait.’
Hagit turned to yell at them, argued in Hebrew.
The group approached them, scolding Hagit. Waving their arms.
Hagit put her hands on her hips and said something that quieted them.
A policeman replied angrily and walked off. The guards muttered to each other.
Hagit held onto Harper’s arm for support; Chloe clung to her neck, half asleep. With the guards trailin
g after them, the three headed back to the bungalow to collect their things. They would not spend another night at the kibbutz, would take off and hit the road, even if she had to steal another car.
Lynne held her breath, not daring to move. Waiting for the consternation to stop. What had gone wrong? She’d almost done it – almost killed the lamb. She would have, too, if not for Harper Jennings.
That woman. So clean looking. Such an open, fresh face. Who’d have suspected the evil that lay beneath? Harper had pretended to be her friend – even to be interested in the church. And Lynne had welcomed her, had divulged confidential information, hoping to help Harper join them, earn God’s grace, attain eternal life. But Lynne had been fooled. Conned. Harper had hidden her true intention. All along, she’d been planning to prevent the final sacrifice. Clearly, she was an agent of Satan. How else would she have known to show up at that very moment, just as Lynne had been about to slaughter the lamb, preventing her from meeting God’s coded requirements?
Harper Jennings. Lynne repeated the name to herself like a chant, pumping herself for revenge. But first, she had to get out of this stinking bed and away from the medical center. She lay still as death, staring into the fabric covering her face. Waiting.
Nearby, men shouted in Hebrew. Shoes pounded against the tile floor. Stopped. Were they at the door? In the room? Would they find her?
Lynne didn’t breathe. In a moment, the footsteps began again, moving away. She let out a breath. Inhaled. Felt ill. The bed still smelled of him, his sickly sweat. His weakness. She prayed to God that they’d stop looking for her soon so she could sneak out of the building and try once more to do His work. And that, in the meantime, nobody who looked in Peter’s room would know that his body had already been taken away.
The sun was setting; the path to the bungalow was shadowy and quiet. According to the Hebrew calendar, the ninth of Av was about to begin. As she walked, Chloe secured in the sling, Harper scanned the valley, the hills. Saw no signs of a conflagration. Heard no thunderous explosions that would end the world. The green fields and gently sloping hills sat serene and still as if prepared for a holy day.
But the calm didn’t relax her. She was in combat mode, her senses alert. Hagit leaned on her for support, still weak and unbalanced, moving slowly. When they got to the bungalow, Harper made Hagit lie down and put Chloe in her crib so she could finish packing.