by Alex Gates
Because it wasn’t armed.
It was never armed.
Jacob Goodman spent years building the perfect family. Creating submissive child wives. Offering young girls to his brothers and their children to design a utopia of his own delusions.
He’d never endanger the sons he’d helped to create. The bloodline he controlled.
The girls he made into his women.
“James…” I held my breath.
He yelled, the radio crackling. “Don’t! London, please!”
I stepped off the plate.
And I waited.
The click of the pressure plate locked.
A still moment passed. Then another.
I released a breath.
“You owe me one five-course vegetarian dinner, James Novak.”
James swore. “Jesus Christ, London. Do you have any idea what might have happened?”
Yeah. I might have wasted more time standing still instead of chasing after the men who deserved justice.
I grabbed the radio from Lieutenant Bryce and ignored James’s lecture. My leg cramped hard as I raced through the chapel, but it didn’t stop me from finding the women, surveying their shocked and relieved faces.
I pointed to them. “There’s no bomb here. Jacob lied to you.”
Anna clutched the baby tight to her chest and she rushed forward to me. She pulled me into a tight hug. “Detective! Thank God you’re safe!”
“Jacob used you, Eve.” I untangled myself from her arms. “They used all of you so they could run.”
She smiled, tutting her tongue. “Don’t be silly. They’d never abandon us.”
“Where have they gone, Eve?”
She answered too quickly. “I have no idea.”
My leg ached. My body shivered in an unforgiving sweat. My head pounded with stress.
The last thing I wanted to hear were any more Goodman lies.
“You do know, Eve. And you’re going to remember.” I stared at her, locking our gazes. “This is your chance to be free. You can go home. You can escape him.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “Why would I want to escape? This is my home. I love my husband. We all love our husbands.”
“Even them?” I pointed to the three young girls, shivering in thin white dresses. “Would they love their husbands?”
Anna didn’t answer. She focused on the baby, rocking the little girl in her arms as she fought the tears.
“I just need to know where Jacob’s gone,” I whispered. “Then I’ll take you away from here. You’ll be safe with me. Everyone will be safe. And those girls over there…the brides…they won’t be hurt tonight. I promise. The Goodmans will never touch them—”
My breath wrenched out of me.
The blast erupted from the farm’s entrance—bright and ferocious, a sudden burst of fire and debris. The force of the explosion knocked us to the ground.
Then heat.
I tumbled, hands in the cold dirt, ears ringing.
A cough. I didn’t hear it.
A baby crying pierced the shrill din first.
Every breath hurt, but I rose to my feet, clawing until I could stand on the aches and bruises, pain and cuts.
The women cried, shouting for their kids. The police ran, their radios crackling with a dozen calls for additional assistance.
Everyone was alive, but thick, black smoke rose from the road. Flames consumed two police cars. A flurry of uniforms dragged a bleeding body from the wreckage.
I searched the women.
Mariam sat on the ground, covered in dirt and dust, her dress ruined.
She cried, still clutching a cellphone. The call had disconnected upon the explosion.
“I’m sorry!” Mariam wailed, again and again. “They told me to do it! They said we wouldn’t be safe ever again.” The little girl in the stained white dress wept perfect tears. They swept over her dirty face and revealed the pink blush underneath. She handed me the cellphone, grimy and covered in dirt. “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to kill anyone!”
24
Am I everything you expected?
Don’t tell me you’re disappointed.
-Him
Scrapes, bruises, and one fractured wrist.
Twenty-seven safe women and children.
Eleven missing men.
It could have been worse. A lot worse.
The station house couldn’t accommodate all the victims, so we had arrangements made with the Red Cross and a local hotel. Not that the family needed much.
No one talked. No one ate the offered food. No one asked for medical attention.
No one even looked relieved to be free from their prisons.
And every tear that fell tore me apart.
Anna led the women as they sat in quiet and humbled submission in every corner of the precinct. Someone had to break first. Unfortunately, it seemed like it’d be the police.
“Passive resistance?”
That voice soothed me more than the ice pack to my screaming hamstring.
I faced James with an honest smile. He took my hand, bringing it to his lips. I could have done with a lot more, but the department frantically bolted from desk to desk, tossing files and making calls. The media descended on the story like a starving pack of hyenas. It’d be impossible to shield all of them from the cameras and sadistic reporters.
Officers and detectives from other departments crowded in the Missing Persons Unit to try to help, getting in everyone’s way just as the thermostat broke. The temperature rose. Everyone sweated. Some of us bled. No one was terribly happy.
This wasn’t time for an embrace, and I regretted every time in the past I’d ever taken his arms for granted.
“They’re not giving us their names.” I squeezed his hand before pulling away. He let me go, though he did tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. The others saw, and I cursed the moment of weakness. Couldn’t have my colleagues thinking I’d gone to pieces by not getting blown into bits. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“…And they called me in to consult.”
“Of course they did.” I didn’t know why I was disappointed, but he had to work too. “Take your pick of victims. We’ve got kids. Brides-to-be. Women who have been on the farm for years.”
“Who’s the one in charge?”
I pointed her out. “That’s Eve.”
“You mean—Anna Prescott?”
I shrugged, too tired to care. “She can be whoever she wants to be today.”
James studied her—staring hard. Thinking.
How often had he looked at me like that? A victim? A source of information?
And now?
Why couldn’t I just enjoy the way he looked at me now?
“She’ll have the most answers,” he said. “But she’ll be the least likely to talk. Anna’s fully integrated into the family. She’s Jacob’s wife, and that makes her important. She believes it.”
“She’s not conceited.”
“No, but she feels like she’s the only one who can protect the man she loves.” He pointed to the group of teenagers huddled on a bench, warily eying the cans of Pepsi the officers offered them. “Start with the young ones. Not the girls who are most recently initiated into the family—they’re living in fear of their training. Try to talk to the ones who are married, but not yet a fixture of the farm. The ones who haven’t given birth yet.”
“What makes you think they’ll talk?”
“They’re young.” His frown darkened as he nodded towards one of the heavily pregnant fifteen-year-olds struggling to stand from her chair. “They might resent the hierarchy of the farm. They might also be confused. They’ve seen enough of the compound to know that this…” His golden eyes cast over the station—the computers, TV screens, women who weren’t barefoot and pregnant. “This might look more appealing than working the fields and changing diapers.”
Maybe. But he hadn’t seen the farm.
Their home was not only lovely…it really seemed like a loving community, despite the horrors in the barn’s basement.
“Do you think they’ll give up the men?” I asked.
James nudged me forward. “Depends on how good Jacob trained them…and how effective an interviewer you are.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“Lieutenant Clark told me to wait, and I agree. They might be more open with you.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
“Yes…” James squeezed my hand once more. “And because you know how scared they must be.”
That didn’t make me qualified.
That made me the worst person to talk to them.
Nothing was worse than lying to someone with platitudes like you’ll overcome this or you’re strong enough to beat this.
No one was that strong.
No one ever forgot what happened to them.
My job was to find my missings. I did that. I brought them home to safety.
But now?
How was I supposed to manage this?
Good thing I helped with the Family Crisis/Sexual Assault Units. But I’d need a hell of a lot more help than the few people working the floor. Especially as the women refused to let any of the male detectives near their children.
I approached the women as gently as I could, wishing I had changed from my dirty, blood-stained clothes. At least I’d taken my gun off. It seemed to relieve them.
“We have doctors on site,” I said. “The children and those of you in a…delicate condition…should get examined.”
No one answered me. They held their children close—babies hugging babies.
Anna included.
James warned she’d be uncooperative, but we had a connection. She had to understand.
“There’s a conference room prepared,” I told her. “Doctors from Children’s Hospital are on hand. They’ll do the check-up here, just to make sure no one sustained any injuries from the blast. If they need to go to the hospital, we’ll arrange something.”
Anna rocked the fussing baby in her arms. “Everyone is frightened, Detective.”
“There’s no reason to be frightened.”
“You’ve removed us from our homes. Threatened to arrest our families. The other officers keep using that vile word…”
Rape?
Fantastic.
“We’re just trying to help,” I said. “I promise, no one is getting arrested. And I’ll talk with the detectives. I’ll make sure they realize that you love your families and husbands.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
And the heartbreak, the absolute misery and terror bleeding from these women, told me she was right. Just as I had no idea why the women weren’t celebrating their freedom.
“Some of the kids look dazed or dehydrated,” I said. “Can you agree to let a doctor see them?”
Anna held Mariam near her. The girl hadn’t spoken, hadn’t taken a drink, hadn’t eaten.
“Okay.” Anna stroked the bruise on Mariam’s chin. “But they will not be taken from us.”
“If they need any real medical attention, their mother can go with them.” I glanced over the babies, toddlers, and pre-school aged kids. A dozen in all. “Who belongs to who?”
Silence.
No one answered, not even the kids.
Fantastic. Jacob must have prepared for this moment. If they were ever caught or separated, no one would reveal their children. That made it hard to separate the families and harder to pin a man for the rape.
Fine. I’d deal with it later. I allowed the other officers to approach, taking crying children from mother’s arms. The babies wailed. The toddlers fought back.
Everyone screamed.
Including the women.
This was a disaster.
“The kids will be safe.” I gave my promise to Anna. “They’ll be back shortly. Nothing will happen. No one is taking them away from you.”
Yet.
Social services was going to have a field day with this.
What the hell were we supposed to do with all of them?
Anna shushed the women with a gentle word, handing the bundle of pink in her arms to the nearest officer. The kids were escorted out.
One crisis handled.
“Okay.” I faced the fifteen women remaining. Most of them were under the age of sixteen. Only Anna and one other looked older than thirty.
What had happened to the Goodmans’ first wives?
And what would happen once these women aged out of their child birthing years?
The wall of dresses and shawls cloaked the women in their own code of silence. I had no idea who was who—brunettes mixed with blondes. Each of the girls was young, pale, and either rail thin or ready to pop. I’d guessed on most of their identities during my surveillance, but this wasn’t a time to assume. I had to earn their trust.
Somehow.
“What are your names?” I asked.
No one acknowledged the question.
I pulled a wheeled chair over from under a desk and sat with them.
Maybe standing intimidated them? Maybe they blamed me?
Maybe they were too terrified to speak?
The other officers gave us room to work. James watched with a cautious glance from Adamski’s office. It wasn’t like we had a handbook for these situations. I was first response. This was triage. First I had to find out who needed what the most.
And then we’d work on healing. Trusting. Talking.
“Is everyone okay?” I tried again. “That was a bad explosion, and I’m worried about a lot of you. I promise, you won’t get into trouble, but the doctors are going to have to know…who is pregnant?”
Not even the visibly swollen girls responded. One looked ready to pop. The other a hair past eight months. And I didn’t have a clue about anything relating to pregnancy.
Were they in more danger closer to their due date?
Or was it the early stages that would have been hit harder?
They didn’t speak.
Damn it. I’d have them all ultrasounded if that’s what it took.
“Fine.” I shredded the last of my patience. “I just need names. Which child or children belongs to you? We have babies. Toddlers. Just tell me, and we can move on.”
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The women stared only at the ground. This was getting us nowhere.
I scooted the chair closer, trying to get anyone, someone to engage with me. A girl. A woman. It didn’t matter.
Someone had to talk.
They were free. They had escaped.
Didn’t they see how precious of a gift that was? How unlikely? And instead of rejoicing and helping, they protected the bastards that did this to them?
I searched woman to woman. Divide and conquer. “Look around you. Look at where you are. This is a police station. The officers here aren’t your enemies. We want to help you—protect you from people who took advantage and hurt you.” I pointed to the three little brides, hiding in the tatters of their wedding dresses. “You don’t have to speak for yourself, but help them. They’re just like you were—before this all happened. They’re innocent. We helped them. Saved them from becoming slaves to men who have molested and hurt all of you. Do you understand?”
No.
They didn’t.
They didn’t want to understand.
Every woman had tensed when I mentioned the men. How did Jacob have such a hold over them, even when separated?
“I know Jacob has scared you,” I said. “Just like I know who fathered those children.”
The women didn’t look up. I named each of the Goodmans anyway, watching for the telltale flinch or whimper that affected each girl when I named their abuser.
“Jacob. Simon. Mark. Matthew.” The oldest. And their sons. “John. Luke. Joshua. Peter. Paul. Abraham. Isaac. Amos. Levi. Micah. Thomas.” It fel
t only right to name the last man. “Jonah.”
Nothing. A few tears. But silence. Only the rustle of papers, ringing of phones, and the frustrated sighs of the other police officers.
It’d be a battle of wills then.
Fine by me.
Now that I’d gotten them out, I had all the time in the world to piss away on their denial.
“You think those men are going to help you?” I snorted. “Like how Jonah helped his own wife? I can show you the pictures. We have them over in Homicide. Hard to imagine that much blood unless you’re stepping in it—”
“Please.” Anna closed her eyes. “You’re scaring them.”
Grilling a victim wasn’t procedure, but I didn’t know what else to do. “Then me and you gotta talk. Do that, and I’ll get your family something better than snack cakes from the vending machine for dinner.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Anna said. “All I ask is that the youngest children are returned. If you could bring me…” Her words choked off.
“You want the baby?”
“I do.”
If it got me answers, she could cradle the kid all night. I called to Adamski. “Can we get the baby girl back?”
Bruce wasn’t as sly as he thought. “What’s her name?”
I already knew the answer. I gestured to Anna.
She didn’t speak.
No worries. I’d get what I wanted from her.
I guided her away from the group towards the interrogation room. James followed, taking my arm before I followed her inside.
“I told you,” he said. “She’s the leader. She won’t talk.”
“She has Jonah and Nina’s daughter.” I quieted as an officer brought in the bundled girl. She didn’t stop crying until she was safe in Anna’s arms. “I need her to admit to it.”
“She won’t. Admitting it will accuse Jonah of raping Nina.”
But I had to try. “I need some leverage here, James. These women are so confused. They don’t understand what I did for them.”
“And what did you do?”
“I freed them.”
“Possibly.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It’s mean…to them? You’ve destroyed their families. Dragged them from their homes. Forced their children to endure an invasive medical examination. You’ve also insulted their beliefs, their pregnancies, and their husbands. They might be rapists, but these women believe their husbands are their protectors and providers. They have nothing else.”