“Yes, but will they give it to you without any identification? We’ll have to check that out.” Bree’s gaze stayed on her face. “Elena, is there anything you’d like to talk about? I have a feeling there’s still something you’re ashamed to reveal to us. We’re your friends. You can tell us anything.”
Elena looked down at her feet. “No, there’s nothing.” She waited to see if Bree would press the issue, but her friend let it ride. The silence stretched out until Kade got up and left the room.
Bree touched Elena’s arm. “Are you sure? Kade’s gone now, so if you just didn’t want him to hear, we can talk now.”
“There’s no reason to talk about the past. The present is all that matters.” Elena dared to raise her gaze to meet Bree’s.
“Oh, honey, that’s so not true. The past affects everything we do, all that we are. Believe me, I know. You’re going to have to face it sooner or later.” Her eyes went to the scar at Elena’s temple. “I still want to know who hurt you. Don’t you want to know too? We could go to the police, get them to discreetly ask some questions.”
“I’ve told you before—I can’t risk tipping off the man who attacked me. I’ve got Terri to protect. He didn’t hurt her last time, but he might if he finds us again.”
“The police would protect you.”
Elena nodded at the familiar argument. They would try hard, but what if they failed? She clasped her hands together and stood up. “I’d better go fix supper.”
NICK LOOKED UP EVERYTHING HE COULD ON MOUNT SINAI AND discovered a survivalist community that went by the name. It had offshoots like Liberty’s Children and the newly formed Job’s Children. What he learned about them only intensified his hunch that Gideon might have a connection with them.
Some of the derivatives weren’t as radical as the Mount Sinai group. The parent organization was suspected of an assassination attempt on the governor last year. They had unknown quantities of stockpiled arms, and there were consistent rumors that the group was affiliated with white-supremacist efforts and even the occult. Not a group to mess around with. Several murders had been laid to their account, though nothing had been proven.
The only way to prove anything would be to get inside the organization. Doing something would be better than sitting around staring at four walls. He needed a diversion to make him forget that his wife was dead and his daughter still missing.
Nick packed his Durango with camping gear, a rifle, and canned food. Dressed in camouflage gear, he drove to the camp, about 130 miles from Bay City. Fully expecting to have to convince the group that he was sincere, he was surprised to find that no one challenged him when he passed into the confines of the enclave. The lane had more muddy potholes than gravel, and he bottomed out several times before he reached the heart of the camp.
There were more cabins than he expected and fewer tents. It almost looked like a small frontier town. Men dressed in camouflage hunting clothes and boots meandered across the road and into the woods. Nick saw one man with a dead fox slung over his shoulder.
It wasn’t hunting season.
Nick parked his SUV in the lot by the church and got out. With a smile that felt as tight as his new boots, he nodded to two women who walked along the side of the road. They carried buckets of water in their hands.
“Good morning. I was wondering where I might find Moses Bechtol?” His research indicated that the man with the biblical name was the leader of the organization.
The women looked at each other. “Maybe you’d better wait at the office,” one said finally. She pointed toward the church building. “He’ll be back sooner or later.” The women avoided Nick’s gaze and moved away from him.
From the women’s reactions, he had to wonder what this Bechtol guy was up to. When the women were out of sight, Nick moved between the buildings. Everyone seemed to be out. The cabins were deserted.
He reached the outermost cabin and turned to go back to the church when he heard a woman cry out. The cry seemed to come from the woods. Entering the trees, he saw another cabin hunkered under a huge oak. He glanced around to make sure he wasn’t seen, then approached the building.
The cabin door rattled, and he darted behind the trunk of the big tree. A man stepped through the battered door. Burly and sporting a blond beard, he attached a padlock to the cabin door, then stalked off. Nick waited until the man disappeared through the trees, then, careful to make no sound, moved to the cabin.
The door was solid wood, though old and nicked, and the shiny padlock was sturdy. He moved around the cabin, searching for a window. The back of the cabin had one tiny window. The glass had been busted out, but bars covered it. He cupped his palms around his eyes and peered into the dark interior. A woman sat on a small cot, her head in her hands.
“Hey,” Nick whispered. “You okay?”
Her head came up, and her tearstained face swiveled toward him. Terror marked the twist of her mouth.
He smiled to reassure her. “My name is Captain Andreakos, with the Michigan State Police. I can help you.”
The woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her. About thirty, she had long black hair and Asian features. Slim and attractive too.
She stood and cast a fearful glance toward the door before sidling to the window. “Moses will be back. Get me out of here.”
So the big man was the group’s leader. “I need a bolt cutter for the padlock. I’ll have to go get help.”
She gripped the bars. “No, don’t leave me here. He’s kept me prisoner for three weeks!”
Then it clicked. Nick had seen her face on a missing-persons poster. “You’re Iris Chen?”
“Yes!” She rattled the bars again. “Please get me out of here.”
“Don’t worry. Let me get some help. Is anyone else held prisoner here?” He couldn’t help but hope he’d find Keri. “Any children?”
“No one, just me. Please get me out.”
“I’m going to go for help now.”
“Hurry!” She hesitated. “Don’t hurt anyone though.”
He nodded, though hurting these scumbags seemed justifiable. Pulling out his cell phone, he flipped it open. No signal. The tree cover was too heavy. “I have to get out of the forest. I’ll be back.” He patted her hand and moved off through some thick spruce trees in the direction of his Dodge, keeping off the paths.
Needles crushed under his boots and released the scent of pine. He finally emerged from the trees and stepped onto the dirt parking lot. A group of six men saw him and headed his way. Led by the burly Bechtol, the men squared their shoulders and clenched their fists, apparently intending to confront him.
His SUV was only a few feet away. He made a break for it, and the men began to run. They surrounded his vehicle even as he managed to get the doors locked. Flashing his badge was unlikely to do any good. His best option was to get out of here, get some help, and stage a rescue.
Bechtol pounded on his window. He turned and gestured to another man, who approached with a tire iron.
Nick started the engine and pressed the accelerator. They’d either get out of the way or get run over. The two men standing in front of his vehicle leaped aside a fraction of a second before the bumper could hit them. A thump sounded behind him, and the back window shattered. A tire iron lay in the back amid tiny crystals of glass.
A man was only about two feet behind, his hands reaching out to grab the back of the SUV. Nick accelerated, and the vehicle leaped away from the man’s outstretched hand. Nick zoomed out of the compound. When he reached the highway, he thumbed a Rolaids into his mouth, got out his cell phone, and called his father.
“We got trouble, Dad.” Nick launched into an explanation of what he’d found.
“Let me try to get ahold of some help close by,” Cyril said. “I’ll call you back.”
Nick closed his phone and looked back at the lane into the compound. He decided to try to circle back and lay low. If the group moved Iris now, he might never find he
r.
The only weapon he had was a pistol. He’d be hard-pressed to withstand the firepower the group was likely to muster. Rolling forward in his vehicle again, he searched for a spot that would hide his SUV. There—a tiny opening in the forest that grew thick along the road. He jerked the wheel and drove the vehicle into the tiny space. Branches whipped around the cab and screeched along the metal. He doubted his shiny paint would emerge unscathed.
The branches closed behind him. It was all he could do to force open his door and exit the vehicle with his gun. Pressing forward through the brush, he stumbled clear of it into a copse of spruce. A cut on his arm bled, and he wiped the smear of blood away with his thumb, then struck out in the direction of the camp.
Stopping for a moment to get his bearings, he listened for voices but heard only the wind and birdsong overhead. The cabin was back this way. He’d always had an innate sense of direction, and he plunged through the cool shadows toward the compound.
His cell phone was set on vibrate, and it shuddered in its case on his waist when he stepped into a meadow with clear skies. Nick pulled out his phone. “Andreakos,” he said softly.
“Nick, I got some help from Alpena. They’re at the entrance to the compound now,” his father said. “Where are you?”
“On the south side. Tell them to wait for my signal. I’m going in now.” He closed his phone and jogged on. When he got close enough to see cabins, the place was hopping. People ran from the buildings to pack up vehicles.
The compound was bugging out.
Iris’s face peered desperately from the window of a van. He had to do something right now. He darted into the road and out of the trees. Pulling out his cell phone as he ran, he dialed his father. “Send them now,” he said and shut the phone.
They still hadn’t seen him. Pulling his gun from its holster, he slipped off the safety and approached the van where Iris was imprisoned. There was no one else in the vehicle that he could see. She hadn’t seen him either.
He was dressed like the others, so he didn’t stand out. Maybe he’d be able to get to the van and get her out unnoticed. He had to try at least.
The big man he’d seen earlier headed toward the van. Car keys dangled from Bechtol’s right hand. His head turned, and his gaze locked with Nick’s.
“Get him!” he shouted, waving his arm toward Nick.
Nick dove behind a boulder as gunfire erupted around him. Revved engines sounded over his shoulder, and he saw the police vehicles come tearing into the compound. Peering over the boulder, he saw Bechtol fumbling to unlock the van door. He was going to escape with Iris.
The gunfire intensified as the Alpena police returned the bullets from the men crouched behind vehicles, rocks, and trees.
Nick narrowed his focus, blocking out the sounds of shouts and car engines. He rested his gun on the boulder and took aim at the van tires. He sighted down the barrel, and his finger hovered on the trigger.
Bechtol looked up. He fumbled for his own gun and swung it up to face Nick. The steady black barrel of the pistol pointed right at Nick’s chest.
Nick adjusted his sighting, aiming the crosshatches on Bechtol’s trigger hand. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he squeezed. Bechtol moved. The bullet Nick had meant to strike the man’s wrist hurtled toward his chest. Nick saw Bechtol jerk when the bullet hit, then the man’s big hand pressed against his chest, and he slowly crumpled into the dust.
The crackling gunfire began to sputter out. People turned to look at their leader and the other men lying in the dirt. Women and children began to wail. Without Bechtol to guide them, they bolted and scattered. Men grabbed up children and tugged women toward cars, trucks, and SUVs. But the Alpena police moved in, heading off the inhabitants before they could flee.
Nick walked to where Bechtol lay and kicked the pistol away from the man’s fingers. He picked up the fallen keys, then jogged around to the passenger side and unlocked the door.
Iris’s hands were handcuffed behind her back. “I asked you not to hurt anyone,” she shouted. Her eyes blazed with anger.
“He was going to shoot me!”
Tears hung on her lashes. “I hate killing anything, even animals.” She looked at the weeping children. “There are fatherless children here because of you.”
“Hey, I just saved your bacon. The least you could do is say thanks.”
She gave him another angry glare and stumbled from the van. “Unlock these cuffs,” she demanded.
Nick handed Iris off to an Alpena officer, beginning to wish he’d left her to Bechtol. He moved around to the dead man again and rummaged through his pockets for Bechtol’s ID. His fingers touched paper, and he drew it out. A picture. He stared down into the face of his wife.
8
WITH JUNE’S ARRIVAL, THE WILDFLOWERS BURST OUT IN profusion. Anemones and marsh marigolds blanketed the roadsides. Elena spent as much time out of doors as she could. She felt reborn along with nature.
Bree had been right about the Social Security office. They’d refused to give Elena her number without some kind of identification, so now she was unemployed.
She tried not to think about it as she jogged along the dirt road through the forest, pushing Terri in one of Bree’s old jogging strollers. The morning was a perfect blend of temperature and sunshine. Bree had no trouble keeping up with her, and Samson ran ahead of the two women, then circled back to check on them every few minutes.
“You’re quiet. You’re worried about losing your job, aren’t you?” Bree asked, not even short of breath.
“How am I going to support Terri?” Elena tried to keep her voice even and quiet so she didn’t frighten Terri.
“Elena, you have no choice now. You have to find out more. If you can get your ID, you can have a normal life.”
Everything in Elena recoiled at the thought of signaling her location to the man who attacked her, but she had to be able to work. Her memory wasn’t coming back by itself. She’d remembered only her name and the ballet. Everything else still swam in an impenetrable black fog.
Bree and Kade couldn’t support her forever.
“I don’t have much choice.”
Their feet hit the path in rhythmic unison, raising puffs of dust.
“When we get back, we’ll go to the sheriff’s office. Mason and Hilary are in Finland with Zoe, but we can talk to Deputy Montgomery about it,” Bree said.
Elena nodded, struggling to keep her expression from betraying her dread. But it was time, and she knew it. She couldn’t hide from her past forever.
Elena heard the rumble of vehicles behind them and turned to look. A caravan of cars, trucks, and SUVs drove slowly past. Some of them had words written on the windows.
SAVE THE SWANS. SWANS ARE SACRED. MUTE NO LONGER.
Bree groaned. “Kade was afraid there would be protests today.”
“Is he having trouble with the relocation?” Elena watched until the last vehicle turned onto a lane leading to Reed Lake.
“I think the park service was expecting this and had plenty of rangers ready.”
“Why are they so mad? Kade is just moving the swans, not hurting them.”
“These folks think the mutes have just as much right to the habitat as the trumpeters, even though they aren’t native to this area. But there are just as many people who think they’re dirty and want them killed.” Bree stopped running to open her cell phone. “Montgomery might need to know about it though.”
Elena listened to Bree explain the situation to the deputy. Some of the people in the vehicles were shouting and waving. Elena shifted and looked down at her daughter. Terri needed to be out of this. It might get ugly.
Bree closed her phone and snapped it back into the holder at her waist. “Montgomery is coming out. Let’s get going.”
“I think I should go back,” Elena said. “I don’t want Terri in any danger.”
“The ranger station is between here and the lake. You can stay there while I go on to join Kade.”
Before Elena could answer, a truck zoomed down the road. An engine backfired, then roared louder. The truck barreled toward them, and she could see a man hunched over the wheel. He wore a baseball cap low on his forehead, and she couldn’t make out any details of his features.
The women stepped off the road, and Bree called Samson to her. She entwined her fingers into his collar as the truck approached. “Sit,” she commanded. The dog settled onto his haunches.
With a cloud of dust in its wake, the truck came abreast of them. The man directed a dark glance their way, then his eyes widened. Truck brakes squealed, and the back end of the pickup fishtailed. When the truck came to a stop, the man jumped out and ran toward them.
“What the heck?” Bree whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
She didn’t have to tell Elena twice. The women bolted for the trees. Elena rolled the stroller over the rough ground as fast as she dared.
Samson planted himself between the man and the women and snarled in a way that would stop a charging bear. It worked on the man too. Elena dared a backward glance and saw the dog herding the man away from them.
“It’s me, Will!” the man yelled after them. “Come back, I won’t hurt you!”
Will? The name meant nothing to her. She and Bree plunged on into the woods and out of danger.
THE DEPRESSION THAT HAD SURROUNDED NICK SINCE BECHTOL’S death a week ago refused to lift. He’d killed Gideon. Nothing was going to bring Eve back. And now he’d never find Keri.
Nick had about worn out the faded picture of his wife that he’d found in Bechtol’s pocket.
A new case came across his desk, a serial rapist, which normally would have engrossed him in work, but he couldn’t focus on the details of the case. His mother had called repeatedly with supper invitations, but he turned down all of them. The only thing he needed was some space to mourn his family.
At least he’d stopped the monster, shot him dead. Nick should have found satisfaction in that, but vengeance was a cold bedfellow. He’d talked to everyone who knew Bechtol but had turned up no real clue to which geo-caching group the man belonged to.
Rock Harbor Series - 04 - Abomination Page 7