Rebel Guns of Alpha Centauri (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 3)

by John Bowers

  The boy looked at him but didn’t answer. Nick pulled his arms behind him and attached E-cuffs.

  “Don’t fight those or you’ll get shocked. They carry electricity.”

  Nicodemus said nothing. He glanced again at Father Groening, who was still speechless with surprise.

  “And my deputy?” Nick asked. “Why did you kill him?”

  “I thought he was you.”

  The warble of sirens reached them on the noon breeze, growing rapidly louder. Nicodemus lowered his head, physically and mentally exhausted. The murderer had caught him, but at least Maggie was safe. That was something.

  “What will happen to me now?” he asked Nick.

  “You’ll stand trial for murder. You killed two innocent people. You broke the sixth commandment.”

  “They were infidels.”

  “I don’t believe the Bible makes that distinction. Murder is murder.”

  Nicodemus gazed into his captor’s eyes. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You killed my father.”

  “I killed a lot of people that day, and I’m not proud of it. But every single one of them was trying to kill me. I just happened to have a better hiding place.” Nick tilted his head. “Didn’t I just hear you tell the Father that it was his fault?”

  “Yes, but you pulled the trigger. I can never forgive you for that.”

  Nick nodded. “Fair enough.” He turned to Officer King, who had brought Maggie to within a few feet of them. “Put her in the car and stay with her. If anyone tries to harm her, shoot to kill.”

  Carrie King’s eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded. She led Maggie slowly up the slope to the quarry entrance.

  “Father Groening, I want you to sit down on the ground. Don’t move until I tell you, or I will crack your head open with the biggest rock I can find.”

  Groening swelled indignantly. “Why, you disrespectful—”

  “Sit down!”

  Nick turned to the crowd, which still stood in a state of shock.

  “I want every one of you to leave now. Return to your homes. Anyone who is still here two minutes from now will be arrested and taken before the devil’s magistrate. Get moving!”

  The sirens were deafening now, just outside the quarry, and suddenly they fell silent. Seconds later Marshal Nelson and two Trimmer Springs cops raced into the quarry with guns drawn. They stopped when they saw Carrie King with the girl, and Nick signaled them to hold their fire.

  “Code Four,” he said. “But we have an injured lady who needs medical attention.” He pointed at Drusilla, who was sitting on the stony ground holding her injured shoulder, pain lines etched in her face.

  Nelson hurried toward her and knelt down to check her injury.

  “We brought an ambulance,” he told Nick. “Thought we might need one.”

  An ambulance crew arrived a moment later with a hover stretcher and carefully lifted Drusilla Downing onto it. As they took her away, Nelson joined Nick.

  “Whatcha got here?” He stared at Nicodemus.

  “Got us a sniper. You can charge him with the murders of Hugh Povar and Patsy Morehead.” Nick handed Nelson the pistol. “And run ballistics on this. It should match the slug that killed Patsy. His prints should match those on the rifle.”

  “Damn! Did you ask him about it?”

  “Sure did. He confessed.”

  “Good work, Marshal. And on a Sunday, too.” He took Nicodemus by the arm. “Come on, you little bastard.”

  “Easy,” Nick cautioned. “He’s had a rough day.”

  As Nelson led the kid away, Dorcas Downing hurried to join Nicodemus and accompanied him. Nick turned his attention to Father Groening. The old man was sitting on the ground as Nick had ordered, looking slightly ridiculous. Nick knelt in front of him.

  “You have a lot to answer for, Mister.”

  “I have nothing to say to you. You can take your—”

  Nick slapped him gently across the face.

  “Guess what. You’re going to talk to me, one way or another. I’m tired of being stonewalled by a self-important old gasbag who doesn’t have half the brains of that girl you tried to kill. Now get off your high horse and make up your mind, because if you don’t, I’m going to charge you with so many felonies that you’ll never see this plain again, and the congregation will find themselves a new leader and forget you ever existed. How does that sound?”

  Groening looked up at him with alarm in his eyes.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Hide and watch me.”

  “I’ll file a complaint!”

  “Yeah? Who you gonna file it with?”

  “Your superiors! I’ll go over your head.”

  “Oh, you can’t talk to me, but you can talk to them? I thought the whole system was of the devil. Convenient how you can twist that around to suit your needs, isn’t it.”

  “You’re of the devil! You are the spawn of Sat—”

  “Shut up.” Nick slapped him again. “You’ve been discredited, Groening. I think Mrs. Downing effectively shut you down. So stop running your mouth and start answering questions. For starters, did you know who killed my deputy when I came out here on Friday?”

  “No. Neither did Titus.”

  “You didn’t order him killed?”

  “Why would I do that? You’ve given my people enough grief already, and that would only invite you back.”

  “What’s your relationship to that boy?”

  “Nicodemus? He’s Drusilla’s grandson. No relation to me.”

  “All right. Let’s talk about something else. Do you know the Hawkins family?”

  “Which one? Thomas or Nathan?”

  “Nathan. And his son Jonathon.”

  “Of course. What about them?”

  “Did you know that Jonathon died last night?”

  Nick watched him closely—Groening reacted with absolute shock, the color draining out of his face. He wasn’t faking.

  “No! What happened?”

  “He and the Pickard boys were playing along the river. Jonathon apparently triggered a landmine.”

  “Dear God!” Groening swallowed in distress and began to hyperventilate.

  “What do you know about landmines?”

  “I—we…that is, we used them in the war, but—”

  “Did you clear all the minefields after it ended?”

  “I thought we did! Perhaps we missed one.”

  “Perhaps you did. Look, regardless of who started the war and who was on which side, I’m not going to hold the minefield against you, but what I am concerned about is that there still seems to be one out there. One child has already died, and if we don’t find it, more people will eventually die. Are you with me on that?”

  Groening, shaken, nodded jerkily, though it must have galled him to do so.

  “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Nick nodded. “Okay, good. The problem I have right now is that Aaron Pickard won’t let me talk to his boys. I need them to show me where the mine exploded, but he won’t allow it unless you give him permission.”

  “Give him permission for what?”

  “Permission to talk to his boys.”

  “They’re his boys, not mine. Why does he need my permission?”

  “Well, I get the feeling that Pickard is afraid to take a crap unless you hand him the toilet paper. So can I ask you to call him and instruct him to let me speak to the boys? Tell him it’s in the interest of the congregation and I won’t try to work any black magic on his kids.”

  Groening heaved a sigh and nodded shakily.

  “All right. Yes, I can do that.”

  “Fantastic.” Nick stood up and offered Groening his hand, helping him to his feet. “Let’s get over to your house and make the call. After that I’ll be on my way, and leave you to enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”

  Chapter 23

  Nick wasn’t finished with Antiochus Groening. The fact that he ha
d conspired to stone Maggie Downing to death merited serious attention, but it could keep for the moment. No other girls were in danger and Nick needed time to figure out just what charges to bring; to do that he needed to interview Maggie and her relatives.

  And he needed to locate that minefield.

  He stood by while Groening placed a telecom call to Aaron Pickard—who reluctantly agreed to let Nick talk to his boys, but not on the Lord’s Day—then took his leave; Groening was hardly a flight risk, especially since he had no idea Nick was planning to arrest him. Nick and Carrie King took Maggie back to town in their hovercar and arrived at the marshal’s office shortly after two o’clock.

  The red-haired girl was silent and subdued. King had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and once in the office Nick handed her a bottle of chilled water. Maggie sucked half of it down and then sat shaking, staring at nothing. Without warning, her face twisted into a mask of horror and she began to sob. King stood next to her and hugged her protectively, but the girl wept for ten minutes without cease.

  Nick watched from across the room, sitting on the edge of a desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. Not only was it heartbreaking to watch, but his blood ran cold when he thought of how close she had come to death. If he hadn’t taken the time on Friday to talk to a little girl on the road—a little girl who this morning had recognized him and spilled the beans—Maggie might not have survived the encounter, in spite of Nicodemus’ intervention. It had been a very close call.

  Too damn close.

  “Maggie, do you feel like talking about it?” he asked gently when the girl had recovered herself somewhat.

  She looked up at him, her eyes red and vulnerable, her lips trembling. She stared at him for nearly a minute, as if she hadn’t heard him, or his words made no sense. Finally, as if drifting back from a dream, she shook her head.

  “No. Not really.”

  Nick watched her for a moment. “I need to know what happened,” he said.

  “You already know what happened. You were there.”

  He shook his head. “I got there at the end. I need to know more about this whole stoning thing.”

  Her eyes widened a fraction. “Are you going to arrest Father?”

  “Maybe. If I do, would you testify against him in court?”

  A look of confusion crept into her eyes, and her brow wrinkled, as if the idea was totally alien.

  “Testify! What for?”

  “Attempted murder. Maggie, he led a conspiracy to kill you! If you had died today it would have been murder.”

  “But…it’s church doctrine!”

  “I don’t care.”

  “It’s in the Bible! Deuteronomy 21.”

  “It doesn’t matter. What they did five thousand years ago is not legal under Federation law. That was a theocracy; this isn’t.”

  She stared at the floor and swallowed hard. After a moment she looked up again.

  “If I did that, I could never go back to church.”

  Nick glanced at Carrie King, who looked as surprised as he was.

  “After today, do you really want to go back?”

  “What else can I do?”

  “You told me Friday night that you hated all that.”

  “I do. But I have nowhere else to go. My family is there.” Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks and her voice turned ragged. “I was h-hoping that you’d m-marry me and—and I w-wouldn’t have to go there anymore, but…”

  “I can’t marry you, Maggie. I explained that already. You and I don’t even know each other.”

  She turned desperate eyes on him.

  “I know you don’t love me, Marshal, but—I would make you a good second wife. I would! I would work hard and do anything you wanted. You would learn to love me!”

  Nick took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.

  “Let’s come back to that later. Right now I have too many other things to deal with.”

  She bit her lips together, her hope fading, and lowered her eyes with a reluctant nod.

  “How often do they stone people?” he asked her.

  “Not very often. In my entire life I’ve only heard of two or three. Back when I was little.”

  “Was Father Groening in charge then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know the names of the people who were stoned?”

  She shook her head. “My mother does. You could ask her.”

  “Okay, I will. Did they all die?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do you know what they were accused of?”

  She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I think one was for adultery…but I’m not sure about the others.”

  Nick’s mind raced. If he could get Mrs. Downing—or maybe both Mrs. Downings—to give up information about previous stonings, he might build a murder case against Groening without Maggie having to testify. But in a court of law, little evidence would be more compelling than the first-person account of one who had been stoned and survived. Nick couldn’t imagine any Federation jury acquitting the old man after that, especially with evidence of previous stonings that ended in fatalities.

  He would need to consult with a prosecutor before proceeding much further.

  Maggie finished her cold water and Nick slid off the desk.

  “If you feel up to it, I want to run you over to the hospital and have a doctor check you over. You’ve been through some trauma and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “My mother won’t like that.”

  “I’ll talk to her. Your grandmother is over there right now, so I don’t think there’s much your mother can say. Come on.”

  It was a five-minute ride to the hospital, and Nick turned the girl over to Dr. Baudino for a physical. Then he and King went into a treatment room where Drusilla Downing sat on the edge of a gurney with her arm in a sling. The pain lines in her face had softened, but her eyes looked tortured. She glanced up as he walked in, and her eyes narrowed a fraction.

  She didn’t speak.

  “How are you feeling, Mrs. Downing?”

  Conflicting emotions coursed across the old woman’s face as she stared at him. She didn’t answer immediately, and he waited. Finally she heaved a weary sigh.

  “I owe you my granddaughter’s life,” she said quietly. “Thank God you showed up when you did.”

  Nick shook his head. “Actually it was your grandson who saved her life. From what I saw, he slowed things down quite a bit before we got there, or we would have been much too late.”

  “Well, you may be right. But Nicodemus couldn’t have held them off forever. I don’t think he would have had the nerve to actually shoot anyone, and they would have overpowered him. Then they would have killed Maggie, and maybe me as well.”

  Nick and King exchanged glances—apparently the old lady was unaware that Nicodemus had confessed to murder.

  Nick smiled gently. “I’m happy it turned out the way it did. If you have a m—”

  “Marshal…”

  He stopped and waited. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. When she looked up at him again, he saw regret in her eyes.

  “What I said to you on the street…”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “It was wrong of me. I’m a Christian woman, and I’m ashamed of what I said.”

  “That was pain talking. I don’t hold it against you.”

  Her eyes teared up and she bit her lip. “Then you are a better Christian than I am, sad to say.”

  “I’m truly sorry about your sons. I would give anything to have been somewhere else that day. I mean that.”

  She stared into his eyes a moment and nodded. “I believe you.” Her face began to twist, and a powerful sob exploded in her chest, wracking her entire body. “I believe you!”

  She lowered her head and wept.

  Nick checked in on Maggie next. Dr. Baudino finished his exam and released Maggie to her mother—she was uninjured except for a bruise on her hipbone where a rock had bo
unced off. Maggie hugged her mother tearfully and the two of them wept together.

  When Nick spoke to Dorcas, she seemed shaken, and though she didn’t apologize for anything, she seemed a little embarrassed that the man she had accused of murdering her husband had saved her daughter’s life.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Nick asked quietly as the woman held her daughter in a desperate hug.

  “Yes, we’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? If you think you’re in any danger, we can arrange for someone to watch over you tonight.”

  “Why would we be in danger?”

  “Well, my impression is that Father Groening is a very proud man, and he was humiliated today. I’m a little concerned that he might send someone to finish the job.”

  Dorcas’ brow furrowed in thought, but she shook her head.

  “It isn’t pride. He’s just very close to God, and it angers him to see anyone violate God’s law.”

  Nick grimaced. Her daughter, her nephew, and her mother-in-law had publicly called Groening everything but righteous. Groening had almost killed her daughter. Yet none of it had fazed her. It was like she had been brainwashed.

  “Just the same, I’d feel better if the three of you spent the night in a hotel tonight. Chief Dwyer can put an officer on your door, and if he can’t spare anyone, I’ll do it myself.”

  “Thank you, Marshal, but…we’ll be fine.”

  Nick gave a reluctant nod. “Are you going to continue attending Groening’s church?”

  Dorcas closed her eyes in pain and shook her head.

  “I don’t think we’ll be allowed to. Father will disfellowship the whole family after today. We’ll be banned and marked.”

  “Marked?”

  “None of the congregation will be allowed to talk to us.”

  Nick understood. She was talking about excommunication.

  “Maybe that’s for the better,” he suggested.

  She looked at him with troubled eyes. “That’s easy for you to say! The Congregation of God is our whole life! We’ve been members for generations!”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just thinking about your safety. Your daughter’s safety in particular.”

  “If we’re disfellowshipped, it means we’re cut off from God!”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. There are many churches, not just one. There’s a very nice church right here in town. I’ve talked to the Bishop—she’s very nice, nothing like Father Groening.”