The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (A Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mystery Book 4)

by Donna White Glaser

  Damn straight.

  Father called a meeting at Philadelphia House. Word had obviously gotten around that an ambulance and three cop cars had descended on the church earlier that afternoon. Before he left to follow the ambulance up to Miller-Dwan in Duluth, I overheard Gabriel tell Casper to track down Baara and Talitha and confine them to their rooms if need be. He also had made it clear to Jala and me that we weren’t to talk about the incident to anybody. I reminded him that Maliah and Abigail knew what had happened too, but he said they would know to keep their mouths shut. So it’s a mystery how the news got around so fast. I only told Beth.

  Talitha must have pulled it together enough that she was allowed to attend the meeting. She showed up looking wan and more than a little jumpy. Not surprisingly, Baara was a no-show. I looked for Maggie’s group and for Rachel, but neither were to be seen.

  When we realized Baara wasn’t coming, Cozbi hurried to light the candles. The Seven—only four left, actually—took their places up front, but Casper had forgotten his staff, and in the absence of the top three ranked men, they weren’t sure where to stand.

  The changes in routine and structure seemed to affect the crowd adversely. This time, the normal restlessness of a congregation getting settled had an edge to it. Background chatter sounded strained and awkward, with none of those “Good to see you” noises that people make when they come together for a service.

  The four men in the front began to glance furtively at each other, their nervousness growing more apparent with each passing moment. None of them could pull off the aura of leadership that Eli, Gabriel, and even Moses commanded.

  Father entered from the side door, and his gaze swept the room, taking in the unrest. When he turned to his remaining honor guard, or whatever they were, and took note of their anxiety, his expression soured. Bet he was missing Eli now.

  Just as Father raised his hands for order, the side door opened and Gabriel strode in. He had made the trip back from Duluth in record time. Looking more harried than I had ever seen him, he assumed his place next to Father. With his arrival, the pervasive tension seemed to loosen its grip on the crowd. Father took a deep breath and turned to face the church.

  “Maranatha, children.”

  “Maranatha, Father.”

  “Are you watching, my children?”

  “We wait on the Lord.”

  “Will you be counted worthy?”

  “We pray to the Lord.”

  “I know many of you are aware that there has been a medical emergency this afternoon.” His voice, deep and melodic, further soothed the edginess of the people. The hypnotic cadence, a slowing and smoothing of his words, kept the delivery as rhythmic as breathing. “It’s only natural that you are concerned when one of your brothers is in distress. That reflects the good in your hearts, and it pleases me. I am aware too that there have been some very wild rumors flying around.”

  He chuckled softly and shook his head as if in gentle amusement at the follies of his “children” and their overactive imaginations. No rants about the sinfulness of gossip this time.

  “Unfortunately, this means we must postpone the Naming Feast…” His brown eyes found mine, and he smiled down on me. “We wouldn’t want to celebrate the addition of a new soul without our dear brother, now would we?”

  I dunno. I was kind of up for it.

  “Rest assured, my children,” Father nodded beneficently, seeming to wrap the whole crowd in his kindly gaze. “We will be able to enjoy our celebration in just a few days when Moses is recovered from his gallstone attack. In fact, I have high hopes that he’ll be released tomorrow.”

  Gabriel and I locked eyes. A fleeting look of disdain shadowed his face. Then he looked away.

  “And I know,” Father continued, “that you will all accept with understanding and gratitude that your evening meal will be restricted to sandwiches as the kitchen helpers have been understandably upset by the commotion. In fact, I hope some of you take this as an opportunity to fast and pray for our dear brother’s quick recovery.”

  Father raised his hands, said a brief benediction, and released the church. As the people rose, I pushed my way to Gabriel, although I wasn’t sure I could say anything with everyone milling around. Just as I reached his side, I heard Father say, “Lock it down. Everything. Nobody in or out.” Then Father marched out the door, letting it bang behind him. Casper and Dathan scuttled after him, but Gabriel didn’t move.

  “Gabriel?” I said.

  His jaw clenched as he walked away.

  The dining hall was chaotic, even though they were only providing sandwiches, fruit, and weak lemonade. I kept my eye out for Rachel, but still didn’t see her. She had to eat, didn’t she? Even though the kitchen was temporarily off-limits—the swing door had chairs stacked in front of it—Beth and I snuck around to the back entrance. Jala, ever the trooper, was prepping for breakfast the next morning, while Myrtle worked at wiping down the big industrial stove. Somebody had cleaned up all the blood, but I couldn’t stop myself from shuddering when I looked over at the spot.

  Despite being wrist deep in dough, Jala walked over and, while being careful about holding her hands away, gave me a big hug comprised mostly of elbows and bosom. We hung on to each other a bit longer than social etiquette usually dictated, but who could blame us?

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m keeping busy now, so it’s all right. I tell you what, though. I’m dreading going to sleep tonight. I decided I need to just wear myself right out.”

  “Good idea,” Beth said. “I just can’t believe someone could do that to himself.”

  Jala gave me a crooked grin that said, “I see you told her.” I shrugged.

  “I can’t believe it, either,” Jala went on. “I couldn’t believe it even when it was happening. You, on the other hand.” She shook her head at me. “I don’t know what we would have done without you. You just jumped on him like a duck on a bug. If it had just been Talitha and me, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “Well, we couldn’t just let him—” I broke off. Nobody wanted to think about that outcome. Time to change the subject.

  “Hey, what’s going on with Rachel?” I kept my voice low, not wanting Myrtle to hear. I just wasn’t sure how much she could be trusted. Jala shot a look over her shoulder too.

  “As far as I know, she’s still under house arrest,” she whispered. “I mean, she’s still sick.” Her flour-covered fingers twitched quotes over the last word, letting us know her opinion on Rachel’s health. “Maybe she could use a visit, though. Dathan is awfully busy right now. Father has them all in a top-secret meeting at his house.”

  “If it’s top-secret, how do you know about it?” I asked.

  “The guys gotta eat,” Jala said. “I had to make up a tray for all of them and send it over. So there you go. If Rachel’s so sick, she shouldn’t be left all alone.”

  “You are absolutely right,” Beth grinned.

  We said our good-byes, then headed out the door. The campus had cleared, and we tried to keep our pace nonchalant until we got to the path leading to Dathan and Rachel’s cabin. Then we scurried like bunnies invited to a greyhound race.

  Beth knocked and we waited. No answer. She knocked again, harder, with the same result. We looked at each other. Beth knocked so hard I was sure her knuckles would sting, but still nothing.

  Okay, then. As Beth stood watch, I slipped around the cabin looking for a window for peeking purposes. She kept knocking, but neither of us expected an answer. I found two windows, but both had the curtains closed so tightly I suspected they’d been pinned.

  When I made it back around, Beth’s face had constricted into worry lines.

  As we walked back to the lodge, I said, “So what do you think?”

  Beth shook her head. “It’s possible she really is sick. She could be sleeping.”

  It was possible. But neither of us believed it.

  The next morning, we were at the
kitchen before daybreak, but Jala wasn’t alone. Cozbi was taking inventory, moving from the cooler to the pantry with a clipboard in her hand. The succulent smell of sausage being kept warm in the oven almost caused me to faint. Jala must have decided it was time for some comfort food.

  Beth and I made ourselves useful, she by feeding bread to the toaster while I began piling containers of generic yogurt into an ice-filled plastic tub.

  Jala waited until I looked at her, then slid a glance over to Cozbi. Then she blinked both eyes. I looked confused. She blinked again, harder, and then I understood. This was Jala winking. I nodded a conspiratorial “message received,” and she relaxed.

  “So how was your visit?” And this was Jala being subtle. At least she hadn’t mentioned Rachel by name.

  “Not so good,” Beth said. “Nobody was there.”

  Jala’s forehead creasing in worry. “Nobody?” She glanced over at Cozbi, who appeared completely uninterested in our conversation.

  I shook my head. Nobody.

  Jala’s look of concern deepened. She puttered over the stove, then stood and pulled her shoulders back. Pursing her lips and nodding as though reaching a decision, she pulled a tray of sausage out of the warming oven and grabbed some bread from Beth’s pile.

  “You know what?” she said in a high “innocent” voice. “Nobody’s taken any breakfast to poor Rachel. Dathan must be too distracted what with everything going on. How would you like to take over a plate to her?”

  She slapped the sausages on the bread and grabbed some fruit, stuffing the food into a small brown paper lunch bag. She added a small can of apple juice, handed the package to Beth, and shooed us to the door. Cozbi stepped out of the cooler just as we got to the door.

  “Where are you two—”

  “Bye,” Beth chirped.

  We scurried to Rachel’s cabin, looking as guilty and nervous as if we were slipping whiskey into the punch bowl on prom night.

  Been there.

  Nobody intercepted us, but this time when we knocked on the door Dathan answered. My heart sank.

  Beth held up the paper sack. “We have Rachel’s breakfast,” she said in a bright, I-know-you-don’t-want-us-here-but-we’re-going-to-ignore-that voice.

  Dathan kept his body firmly planted in the doorway blocking us as well as the view. Adam’s apple bobbling, he said, “I already brought her something.”

  “Oh,” Beth said, still holding the bag out. “That’s too bad. Jala made a sausage sandwich special for her. Can’t you smell it?”

  Dathan’s nostrils quivered. He reached out to take the bag, but Beth pulled it back.

  “Do you mind if we come in and sit with Rachel for a bit? I bet she’d like—”

  Quick as a snake, he snatched the bag. “She can’t have no visitors. I’ll make sure she gets this.”

  We stood for a moment, all of us fully aware that he was going to eat the sandwich as soon as the door slammed behind us.

  Sighing with resignation, Beth held out the can of juice. Right before Dathan’s fingers closed around it, she dropped it. The can bounced off Dathan’s shoe and rolled into the cabin. Dathan bent over clumsily, trying to grab it, giving us a clear view of the one room cabin. The empty cabin.

  Beth and I spun on our heels and walked away.

  Chapter Thirty

  Even though Dathan shut the door, we waited until we were well away from the cabin before saying anything.

  “I guess we don’t have to ask where they’re hiding Rachel, do we?” Beth said grimly.

  From her tone I knew what she was implying. I didn’t necessarily disagree, but I said, “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe they stuck her in the shed, but maybe not. The problem is we’ll only have one shot to get to Maggie and get whoever is in the shed out.”

  “So what are we going to do until then? Just—”

  “And there’s always the chance that she’s not in the shed. Maybe Father’s doubling up on her ‘special sessions.’”

  Beth gave me a look. “Eww.”

  “No, not sexual. I don’t think so, anyway. More like brainwashing sessions, I’m guessing. Or she could be holed up somewhere, sleeping off a drunk. Wouldn’t be the first time, and we know she avoids Dathan when she’s on a binge. They wouldn’t want her drinking known to the general public, either. That could be what all the secrecy is about.”

  “Could be,” Beth agreed. “Well, if she’s sacked out somewhere, sleeping it off, we should be able to track her down. We’ve got a good chance, anyway. But if she’s getting her thoughts rearranged with Father Fascist, well, then… I don’t know how we’d ever find that out.”

  “That would be a tough one, all right. Maybe…”

  “Maybe, what?” Beth asked.

  “Maybe Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel?” Beth’s voice rose in disbelief. “Gabriel, Father’s newly ranked second-in-command? Military, yes-sir-no-sir Gabriel?”

  I sighed. “I know, I know. But he’s seemed different lately. Like he’s having doubts. I know he felt bad when Eli left. And he could have exposed us back at the meth lab. He seems to have his own standard of morality. He was the only one who didn’t ogle me during my stripper walk in the temple.”

  “Maybe he’s gay. Anyway, all that could be very true, but it still would be a huge strain on his loyalty. Especially now. Father has to be depending on him almost entirely. I think we should make sure we’re ready to leave before trying to flip him.”

  Normally I would have made fun of Beth’s double-agent talk about flipping someone, but I didn’t have the heart. “Okay, first things first,” I said.

  “That’s always been my favorite A.A. aphorism.”

  “Well, we’re using it now,” I said. “First thing we need to do is check the places we can. The temple, the dining hall, the barn, etc. And then we’ll go room by room through the lodge.”

  “What about the guys’ side?”

  “Maybe at dinner time? Let’s worry about that later.”

  “We’re leaving an awful lot to worry about later. Should I make a list?” Beth asked.

  I couldn’t tell if she was serious. “Temple first.”

  We were less than a hundred yards from the building, so it made sense to start there. And Rachel had said she liked going there for the peace and quiet.

  It was quiet all right. But not peaceful. At least, not after we found her.

  Rachel lay discarded on the floor, facing the altar, both arms flung out as though beseeching the heavens for forgiveness. Or as if she had been crucified. A splotch of maroon-turning-to-brown blood bloomed on her chest. My TV CSI-educated brain told me the blood wasn’t fresh. And her eyes, sightless and void, were locked in a never-ending stare.

  “Oh, God,” Beth yelped. Her words intruded into the emptiness and she covered her mouth.

  I grabbed her other hand and we backed down the aisle until we made it to the small foyer.

  “I’ll stay,” I said. “You go call for help. Don’t bother asking anyone, just get to the office phone and call the cops.”

  “Right. What about…? You don’t think we should tell anyone?”

  “Get the cops coming first.”

  “Right. Okay.”

  She left without another word, and I was alone with Rachel.

  Not Rachel. “Stacy,” I whispered, remembering her insistence on using her real name the night she got drunk. Forcing myself back to her side, I tried to look at the scene objectively.

  How do cops do this?

  I teared up every time I looked at her poor crumpled shell, so I focused on analyzing the area around her instead. Everything looked exactly as it usually did. With the exception of the sprawled body. That was different. And then I realized it was really different.

  Rachel was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Pretty average attire for northern Wisconsin in the autumn, but I had never seen her out of the church approved skirt and blouse uniform. Had she been in the process of leaving?

  A closer
look made me question whether she had even been killed here or not. The front of her sweatshirt seemed sopping, but it was the only blood I could see anywhere. At least, without moving her body—a big CSI no-no.

  Even her hands, palms up, were pale alabaster cups—not a speck on either. So, she couldn’t have done this herself.

  Rule out suicide.

  I glanced down the aisle to the door. I had lost track of time, but I knew Beth should have been back ages ago. Suddenly fearing the worse, I trotted out to the porch to see if she—or anyone else—was coming.

  I had a clear view to the lodge. The yard, in that surreal, universe-ignoring-death kind of way that always felt so out of sync after someone died, looked as serene. Two women—Talitha and Martha, I thought—walked in the direction of the dining hall. Their shared laughter at some joke made me wince. I debated calling out to them, but held back.

  I didn’t hear any sirens, either.

  Then the world jump-started with a bang as a small group burst out of the lodge entrance. Talitha and Martha stopped to stare. Justus and Casper half dragged and half carried someone out the door. A writhing, bellowing, cussing, auburn-haired dervish kind of someone. Maliah came out after them and stood with her arms crossed, watching their progress. I lunged back inside the temple and ran to a window.

  Beth was making them work for every inch they dragged her. One second she would resist, pulling away from them both, then she’d fling herself forward, causing the men to trip over their own feet. The whole group went down to their knees several times. The third time, she made the fall work for her, landing on top of Casper, where she took the opportunity to sink her teeth into his neck.

  After that, she wasn’t the only one screaming.

  But by the time they reached the temple, she’d run out of steam. Still, she made them drag her as she hung like dead weight between the two. Both men had tomato-red faces and panted like they were auditioning for a phone sex gig. They surprised me by not stopping at the temple. As they passed, Beth lifted her head and found me in the window. She mouthed, “Get out.”