by Alex Gates
“John left me!” A brunette no older than sixteen clutched her swollen belly. “He left us!”
“No one has left anyone.” Anna shushed her. “Jacob has a plan. We must trust him. We’re a family. Nothing will come between us.” She didn’t look at me, only the women and children. “The Lord is my shepherd…I shall not want…”
The other followed in chorus. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside still waters.”
Oh, Christ. I had a prayer of my own, and it wasn’t nearly as peaceful as theirs.
Anna kept her eyes open, watching me as I made my motions. That was fine. As long as she could corral the women and children, I’d find a way to get out of this mess.
One that didn’t involve killing us all.
I reached for my radio, slowly, letting it skim off my belt and into my hand. The movement didn’t upset the pressure plate, but it wobbled me.
How long could I stand on one foot?
Well…at least until the end.
I contacted the troopers stationed on the edge of the property, attempting to keep my voice light. The strain didn’t fool anyone.
“This is McKenna…” I licked my drying lips. “We have a situation.”
It took a second before the return crackled in. “You got the Sheriff. Confirm your situation?”
I didn’t know their radio call for it. “I’ve found a possible explosive device. What’s the ETA on the removal unit?”
A longer pause. “Where is the device, Detective?”
“I’m standing on it.”
“Repeat that.”
“It’s under my feet.”
Silence. The prayers faded as the girls listened more to me than Anna. I didn’t wait for the sheriff’s confirmation. I counted the innocents in the room with me.
“I have twenty-five civilians with me. All women and children. We’re in the family chapel, second largest building on the farm.” Aside from the barn, but that contained its own explosive revelation. “The device is under my feet. I need a disposal team immediately.”
The radio punctuated my call with a variety of shrill beeps. Grimber hailed back.
“Located any other devices?”
Good freaking question. I glanced to Anna. “I’ll find out.”
But she wasn’t talking. She held a baby girl close to her chest and shook her head.
“Eve…” I clutched the radio. “I need your help.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t.”
“We don’t have a choice now. The state police are here. They’re bringing a bomb squad. I’ve got police from my precinct on the way. If anyone gets hurt—”
“No one was supposed to get hurt!”
My leg wobbled. This wasn’t a comfortable position, and I had no idea how long I could hold it without unconsciously shifting my weight. Hopefully the bomb wasn’t too unstable.
“You gotta think of the kids, Eve. There’s too many innocent people in here. I know Jacob gave you orders, but he’s not here now. It’s just you, me, and a whole lot of kids. You gotta tell me if there’s any other unsafe places, okay?”
Anna doubled down. “Jacob promised the children would be okay.”
“I know he did, but we’ve got a problem. I need your help.”
She rocked the baby, holding her close, pressing her cheek against the child’s blonde curls. “He said we’d be safe here. I believed him…but…don’t go near the gazebo.”
I radioed, issuing the order for the teams to avoid their parkette area and any other entrance to the chapel.
“Good.” I sweated, but I didn’t let it show. “Are the kids okay? Is anyone hurt?”
“No one has ever been hurt here, Detective.”
Yeah, and the room under the barn was just a playhouse. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Make sure everyone stays calm. The team’s going to come in, and they’ll need it to stay quiet so they can work.”
Anna cast a glance over the women and kids. It’d be hard to keep them quiet, so many were already crying. She nodded, devising a plan.
“May we pray?” she asked.
For all the good it’d do, fine. As long as the Holy Spirit didn’t jostle any wires.
Or knock me down.
Or cause me to move a fraction of an inch and unsettle the homemade IED.
Ten minutes of balance was all I could handle. I wasn’t in bad shape, but I was no yoga expert, despite attempting classes on three separate occasions. I held my leg out before me, wavering as it just barely grazed the ground. My back leg locked, tensed and already cramped.
This wasn’t good. My heart beat too fast, and my sweat turned cold. I ignored the crushing agony in my chest. A panic attack might have given me something to do in the minutes waiting for the bomb squad, but I didn’t want a forensics team boxing up the bits and pieces of my personal smithereens to return to my family.
Or James.
God…James…
The sheriff shouted from outside. “Got the bomb squad here, Detective! Just stay calm!”
A pipedream while standing on a pipe bomb. “Sure.”
“Lieutenant Bryce is here from the disposal unit. He’s going to oversee the dismantling of this…” Grimber didn’t say the word. “He’ll get you out.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I couldn’t see the lieutenant, but he had a good, solid voice. Something strong and baritone. Deeper than James, but not nearly as smooth.
“You’re Detective McKenna?” he asked.
“We can drop the formalities now that I’m humping a bomb.” I flinched as Anna’s gentle scold reminded me of the Rated-G nature of this particular life-or-death situation. I apologized to the kids and called to Bryce. “Call me London.”
“You’re doing great, London…” He didn’t sound convinced. “Are you having any difficulties?”
“I’m not exactly comfortable.”
“It’ll get worse.”
Yeah, an explosion would feel pretty nasty. “I’m fine. Just work fast.”
A plea and an order but neither seemed effective. It took them five minutes to survey the chapel. Five minutes to scan beneath the floor. Another five to check the foundation for an entry point.
And then only a minute for them to sit and confer with each other.
Hushed voices never spoke good news.
My clothes soaked with sweat, and the thumping of my heart nearly barreled me over. I gritted my teeth, but the pressure squeezed every bit of courage inside me. It left the stubbornness though, the only reason I hadn’t already collapsed.
“London…” Lieutenant Bryce cleared his throat. “We scanned the chapel. The stained-glass window is clear. We’re going to break it and evacuate the women and kids.”
“Break it?” Anna argued. “But it’s a seventy-year-old piece of art.”
“And I’m standing on fifty bucks worth of nails, ball bearings, glass, and accelerants.” I didn’t let her speak. “Get them out of here.”
The team already moved, shattering the glass window that offered the family more salvation as an escape than in worship. The artwork had been large, centered in the back of the chapel to frame the altar and, apparently, John, during their services. It offered more than enough room to start evacuating the twenty-five women and children huddled in the corner.
But they moved one at a time.
And my leg was cramped, tired, and aching with the strain of keeping me so still for so long.
Lieutenant Bryce wasn’t happy. He called to me as calm as he could manage.
“London, you’re standing on a dangerous bomb.”
“I know,” I said.
“It’s got some firepower in it.”
“I know.”
“We’re working as fast as we can.”
I watched as Anna helped pass the babies and toddlers out of the window. Some cried. Some stayed silently terrified. But her attention drifted from the family to me. She could read the Lieutenant’s expression
from where she stood.
And I saw it mirrored in hers.
They didn’t think I could get out.
That made three of us.
“Is there someone you can call?” Bryce posed the question lightly. “Someone to keep you calm?”
“You mean…to say goodbye?”
At least silent affirmation didn’t lie.
My heart skipped.
My last one?
I forced a harsh breath through my lungs, the first deep one I felt confident taking since stepping on the plate. No sense killing everyone else with me. If this was it, at least we’d get the women and kids out. They’d been through enough.
So had I.
But at least I’d go down swinging.
I pointed to the phone in my pocket. “Can I use this?”
“No. Don’t move. We’ll use the radio.” His boots scraped behind me. “Who do we call?”
What a question.
My throat tightened. I wasn’t about to punish him with my last words, but I couldn’t think of anyone else I needed to hear in my last moments.
“James.” I pinched my eyes shut. “Agent James Novak. He’s my…he’s with the FBI. I’ll give you his phone number.”
“Good. I’ll talk with him first and explain what’s happening.”
Not the call James ever wanted to get, but one I’d always warned him to expect.
We both worked dangerous jobs, even if his vision had saddled him behind a desk more than in the field. I got myself in more trouble than either of us liked, but we knew this was a possibility.
And after everything that had happened when I was younger...
This was just another drop in the unlucky bucket I’d ultimately kick.
Within minutes, Lieutenant Bryce had rallied James on the radio. He held it up for me to hear.
For everyone to hear.
Wasn’t it bad enough I had to say goodbye to him? I didn’t need a crowd for this. Hell, I’d be lucky if I could even speak to him.
I held my breath.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be how it ended.
My chest tightened, threatening to suffocate me in a fear I swore I’d never let overwhelm me again.
And then I heard his voice.
“London.” James stayed calm, always. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t let him hear me upset. He’d already dealt with me disheveled and terrified ten years ago. After the interviews and interrogations and memories of what that evil man had done, James knew how dark my life had gotten. When we started dating, I’d promised him, swore to him, that the weak, terrified victim was gone.
I’d keep that promise.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Nothing I can’t handle. Might be late for dinner though.”
He chuckled. “You’ve never been on time for dinner.”
“You never have it on the table for me.”
“Well, if you behave and let the bomb squad work, I’ll make you a gourmet meal as soon as you get home.”
“Five courses.”
“Stuffing, mashed potatoes, every soy product I can find.”
“I’d rather a carb coma than the other kind.”
“Me too.” His voice deepened, as close to worry as he’d let it rasp. He kept himself together. For me. For him. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ve been through worse.” And most times, I meant it. I curled my fists. How long had my hands been trembling? “Don’t worry about me.”
“I always worry about you.”
“I know.”
The last child hopped through the window. Only Anna and the older women remained. She instructed the pregnant ones to hurry through first, but her gaze remained on me, holding my stare as if holding my hand.
Her turn came. She hesitated.
Hell no. She wasn’t waiting here for me. The poor woman had been held in captivity for fifteen years. This was her escape. Her rescue.
“Go,” I said. “I’m fine.”
A tear rolled over her cheek, and she backed to the window.
“God’s with you,” she whispered. “Trust Him.”
Yeah, I was putting my money on the trooper driving the drone under the foundation, but I nodded, if only so Anna would finally escape to safety.
“Talk to me, London.” James didn’t let me stay quiet for long. “What’s happening?”
“I…”
Why was this so hard to say?
The last words I’d speak should have been the first I always said to him.
Every morning. Every night. After every call.
But revealing my feelings terrified me more than any danger beneath my aching feet.
“In case I don’t get out of this…” My voice trembled.
“It’s okay.” He said it, and I believed him. “I know, London.”
“But you don’t. And I’ve never…I don’t tell you enough…”
“But I know.” His voice caressed as warm and sincere over the radio as if he whispered in my ear. At least he was far away. At least he wouldn’t see. “We’ll talk about it once you’re home. Safe and sound. With me.”
With him.
I stared through the window, watching as the girls were guided far from the chapel and to the waiting safety zone with flashing lights, police cars, and fire truck.
I doubted Jacob Goodman ever expected so much law enforcement to invade his home.
I’d take satisfaction in that. The children were safe. They’d find the room under the barn. Proof that they had taken those girls to be their wives.
And the three little girls still wore their pretty white wedding dresses.
They might have been kidnapped, but the Goodmans were nothing if not traditional. I doubted they’d touched them yet. Not if they truly believed in whatever sanctimonious ceremony they’d created to justify their behavior. Their quivers had to be filled with wholesomeness for their Kingdom to come.
The Goodmans had stuffed twenty-five women and children into their chapel—a symbol of their dominance. Their virility. Their victory over innocent flesh.
So why would they arm a bomb so near to their families?
Why would they want to hurt them?
“James…” I licked my lips. They cracked anyway. My heart thudded a little harder now, but a surge of confidence ripped through me. “I need your help.”
“I’m not going anywhere, London. I love you. I’m right here.”
The words stirred everything in me, but I forced myself to unhear it so I could think. Plan.
Put myself into the mind of a madman.
“I need a profile,” I said. “And I need it quick.”
“What?”
“You’re a fifty-two-year-old white male living in a fundamentalist Christian sect. Off the grid. Separated from the world. You have your own land and property in a rural community where you’re free to practice your perverted form of religion.”
“London, what are you doing?”
“Despite a religious upbringing and tenants, you’re attracted to young girls. Maybe for purity reasons.”
“No.” James couldn’t resist the chance to help—or an opportunity to distract me. “It’s not their purity. It’s strictly dominance.”
Bryce called from behind me, quiet. “London, stay still. You’re wobbling.”
I ignored him and the other panicking troopers. “He kidnaps young girls and brainwashes them.”
James was gifted at his job. His voice quickened, intrigued. “He forces their submission.”
“Not to him, but to God.”
“No. To him. To Goodman, it’s the same thing. He is the head of the family, the farm, and the church. He’s assumed a Godly role.” He thought for a moment. “He found the girls. Presumably he broke the girls. How?”
“There’s a hidden bunker under the barn. He converted them there.”
“Through force?”
I didn’t want to imagine it. “You have no idea.”
<
br /> Bryce worked quickly, grabbing another radio from a trooper outside. “Get me three guys to check out a bunker underneath the barn. Take a bomb dog. Sniff it out.”
“What do you make of Goodman?” I asked.
James hummed. “He thinks he’s in complete control of those around him. And he likes that. He’s forming his world in the image he’s created. Perfect order. Perfect obedience. He’s religious, but that gives him power. He takes the young girls and molds them into his ideal Christian wives because they can be trained easier. They’re young enough to believe the teachings and to bend to a man’s authority.”
“And the women help. Tending to the children. Making the homes. Acting like a family.”
“The bond between the women will be the hardest to break,” he said. “They share the experience. They support each other. The pregnancies bind them to each other as much as to their husbands. They feel they are helping their families.”
“But they’re arranged marriages. They’re forced into those beds. They’re forced to bear children again and again.”
“Another form of control,” James said.
A strength surged through me. “That’s also Goodman’s weakness.”
James and the troopers hesitated. “What?”
“If you truly believed in your teachings and the Word of God, and you believed that you were given these girls for your own, to make your family and grow your quiver…”
“London, don’t assume anything.”
“Would you place those women and children in danger? Would you really lock them in a building loaded with explosives?”
“Don’t.” His voice hardened. “Think of Jonestown. These are people willing to die for their cause.”
“Then where is Jacob Goodman to fall on his sword?” I groaned. Damn it. We’d been played. “He’s gone. Running. This isn’t a trap. He’s using the chapel as a decoy. The men have escaped, and we’re stuck on the farm.”
“London, don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ve already been stupid.” I cursed myself. “This was a ploy, James. I know it.”
“The disposal unit can see the bomb, London. Stay still!”
I raised my voice. “Lieutenant? Can you find the detonator?”
“Don’t move, McKenna.” Bryce didn’t answer my question. “We need time to disarm it.”
“No. You don’t.”