by Alex Gates
My doubt disappeared.
I knew exactly what had happened here.
“Anna’s not going to the campground,” I said.
Falconi grumbled. “She’s probably buried under it.”
I tapped my temple. “Gotta think like them.”
“You’re in their head now?”
A flower wreath rested on the bed. I picked it up, but the ring of peonies was small. The cold chill crashed over me.
I squeezed the flowers and reached for the embroidery circle half hidden by a decorative pillow.
Oh, no.
Not again.
Falconi read the embroidered stitching over my shoulder. “So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, man must never separate. Matthew 19:6.”
“Anna hasn’t given up on her family,” I whispered. “She’s running. She’s protecting them.”
“How does sewing protect the family?”
It was just sewing—it was conditioning.
Preparing little girls for their big day.
I handed him the flowers and embroidery. “If I’m Anna…my family’s been ripped apart. The men are gone. The family’s bunker in the forest was destroyed. Jacob is on the run. And her sister is killed. She knows they’re exposed. She’s worrying about Mariam and the baby. She wants to protect them…she’s trying to save the entire family.”
“How?”
“By continuing with tradition. She’s taken Mariam to be married.”
Falconi followed close, keeping me steady as I nearly tumbled down the stairs to the door. Riley caught me before I burst outside. He gave an affirmative to the call on the radio.
“Orders from Lieutenant Clark,” he said. “They’re moving on the campground tonight. You gotta go. Adamski’s already in route. They want you there to help with the girls.”
Didn’t they understand? “The girls aren’t there. They weren’t kidnapped.”
“McKenna, use your head. Goodman just slaughtered this woman. He’s taken Anna and the kids!”
“Jacob wouldn’t put them in danger. He would have told Anna to run, and she’d go to where she feels safe. Where she has control—over herself and Mariam.”
Riley swore. “Where’s that?”
The same place she’d hid for the past fifteen years.
“Anna’s gone back to Harvest Dominion Farm.”
31
And so you run and you fight and you struggle.
Was it worth it?
-Him
I hated being right.
Louisa’s car was parked outside of Jacob and Anna’s farm house. The engine popped in the chill, and the hood still radiated warmth. She’d driven the two hours out of Pittsburgh without a car seat, but that was the least of our worries.
At least she was alive.
At least the kids were safe.
At least Jacob wasn’t with them.
Yet.
The porch steps creaked under my boots. Strange that I could hear it so clearly on the farm. No machinery buzzed. No animals brayed.
No kids played in the grass.
The police tape over the doors fluttered in the cold. No agency had patrol officers to spare to guard an abandoned property in the middle of nowhere. Anna walked back into her home with no one to stop her.
Was she the only one at the farm? I knew better than to trust the shadows.
I should have called for backup, but another officer would’ve terrified Anna more. She didn’t need escorting home. She needed a friend. Someone who would protect her as much as she protected others.
The door wasn’t locked. I nearly laughed. After everything she’d been through, Anna didn’t secure her property? The kidnapping wasn’t enough? The rapes?
She just watched her sister die.
And she still left her home open for the murderer to walk through.
Hell, she probably had dinner waiting for him.
I knocked before entering, gun drawn. Not that my weapon would do much against another IED or explosion. The living room was dark, but a hymn played from a stereo in the kitchen. The light over the sink cast a rosy golden glow. I followed it, picking a path through a house torn to pieces during the police’s search.
Drawers emptied. Pens, pencils, paper, and office supplies were chucked into one corner. Cushions were ripped. Bookshelves tipped. Children’s drawings crumpled. Wooden furniture—Jonah’s dedicated work—splintered. I cursed the insensitivity. Not the Jacob deserved any respect, but Anna had put so much work and time into tending a neat and tidy house—not just for her husband, but for all the women and children on the farm.
This was still her home, despite the circumstances of her arrival.
Anna sat at the kitchen table, a sewing kit spread over the tablecloth. She squinted at the quilt in her hands and mended a tear in the middle. The CSI team didn’t have to destroy something so lovely to find evidence of Jacob’s guilt. His crimes were all around. But this space…
Was all she had.
Anna didn’t deserve any of this.
She gave a sigh as the needle slipped into the material. “This belonged to Jacob’s mother. She made one for each of her boys. I never had a chance to meet her, but Jacob says she was a Godly woman. Smart. Strict, but fair. Respected. Loved.” She sighed over the word. “I wanted to be her. I wanted to lead this family. They needed someone like her. A Titus woman. A powerful, feminine influence for the girls and the children.” She chuckled. “Even the men. They’d never admit it, but every man wants a mother. It’s easier for them to make the hard decisions if they know a motherly figure will be there to help them, always.”
She continued to sew. I gave her a moment of quiet before approaching.
“Anna, what are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” She gestured to the empty seat across from the table. “I haven’t any coffee or tea made, but we can sit together.”
“Why did you come here?”
“Look at this rip. I’m not that good of a seamstress. I’ve tried, but I just don’t have the patience. These little stitches are so tough!”
“Where are the children?”
She stared only at the needle, concentrating hard on repairing the patch. “Where they belong.”
“Anna.”
“They’re upstairs sleeping. And I wish you would call me Eve.”
“That’s not your name. That’s what he called you.”
“How is that any different from a husband calling his wife honey or sweetie?”
I didn’t like the quiet in the house. Anna was usually far more chipper, talkative, even when scared. She’d drawn her hair back into a casual ponytail. The look seemed too modern for someone as timeless as her. Too young. I’d never recognized her youth before, especially as she had projected such a strong presence, well beyond bumbling puberty and the harsh lessons life taught to those in their twenties.
Her strength seemed to wane. When she should have flourished in freedom, she regressed. Hid with her needle and thread in a dollhouse of lies.
“Anna…we have to go back now. You can’t stay here.”
“We’ll be fine.”
I dragged one of the kitchen chairs to her side, sitting within arm’s reach. She didn’t move or protest. Did she ever? Did she know she had the option to refuse him, me, anyone?
I stared at her, my voice soft. “Did you ever oppose him? Ever fight back?”
“Why?” The needle glinted in the quilt. “He would have won.”
“Are you afraid of him?”
She accidentally nipped her finger and gasped. Not so perfect after all. “No.”
“Are you afraid of what he might do?”
“Detective, I know what Jacob has done in his life.” She sucked on her finger, nursing the pinprick. “I know what he’s capable of doing.”
“And you still came here.”
“This is my home.”
Denial? Fear? I couldn’t tell an
ymore. “This is your prison.”
The quilt lowered. She folded it tight and placed it on the table, crossing to the cabinets without asking if I wanted to join her in a mug of tea. I let her work in silence, boiling the water and pouring two mugs. She added sugar to hers but brought the bowl over to me. I took the mug with a quiet thank-you, and together we let the cups warm our hands.
“May I ask you a personal question, London?”
It was the first time she’d used my name. “Of course.”
“What happened in your past to make you so distrustful of the world?”
“Aside from working in law enforcement?”
“Is that it? Working for the police has jaded you?”
“I’ve seen a lot of brutality. Crimes against woman and children. Kidnappings. Murders.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
The tea was an excuse to delay speaking, but I’d always hated Earl Grey. Too floral for me. I forced it down, wishing it hadn’t tasted so much like perfume.
“We’re alike, Anna,” I said.
“I refuse to believe that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m happy.”
That stung. “I’m not a ray of sunshine, but does this life really make you happy?”
She admired her kitchen, touched the table cloth, swirled the tea in her mug.
And smiled.
“When you first found this place…” She asked. “When you found the women here, realized we had children, what did you see when you looked at us?”
I answered honestly. “I saw people who needed help.”
“And I see a family.”
“Families don’t hurt each other.”
“Jacob hasn’t hurt any of us.”
“What about Jonah? Rachel? Louisa?”
Her eyes lowered. “They weren’t family anymore.”
“They’re blood.”
“They tried to destroy us.”
“Anna, there was nothing to destroy. This family is built on lies and abuse.”
Anna shushed me, a finger to her lips. “London. I know you worry. But I am not a victim. What Jacob has done to me…I wanted. I wanted to be his wife. I wanted to live this life. I wanted to give him children.” The tears welled in her eyes. “It is my greatest, most shameful regret that I can’t give him any more children.”
She was just lucky he hadn’t killed her for it. “What does Jacob say? How does he explain this to you?”
“What is there to explain? Look at this beautiful land. These homes. The way the children smile. How can you look at this farm and see anything but a warm, loving family?”
“Because the ten-year-old girl upstairs is responsible for creating that family.”
“You think they’re too young to understand the miracle of life?”
“Yes. So does the law.”
“It’s holy.”
“It’s abuse. These are little girls who are promised to grown men. Young, underdeveloped children forced to have sex with adults and bear their children. Doesn’t it frighten you?”
“You know what truly frightens me?” She stared into her tea. “A world where those same girls are lost, abandoned, and cast out onto the streets, scrounging and begging for a simple meal.”
“You’d rather them suffer on the farm?”
“We don’t suffer!” It was the first time she raised her voice, and even that sharpness was defensive. “I’d rather they live happily on this farm. Warm and loved. The girls we’ve taken in are the ones who ran away from real abuse. They’ve never heard a kind word. They didn’t know the Lord. We gave them a home and hope and an opportunity to be a part of something wonderful. We offered them this life.”
“Jacob didn’t offer them anything. He forced them.”
“No.”
“Think about the day he ‘found’ you. Did he ask you to join a family before he knocked Louisa unconscious, hauled you from the sidewalk across from your home, and stashed you in a van?”
Anna tucked a straying lock of her ponytail behind her ear. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m listening now.”
“Then you won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
Her words calmed. “God chose him for me.”
“Did God tell you that…or Jacob?”
“Neither. It was my own divine revelation. I realized the truth as soon as I woke in Jacob’s care.”
“You woke in his custody.”
Anna held my stare. “Would you prefer if I said I woke in his arms?”
The thought made me sick. “Did he make you—”
“He didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. I was young, but the Lord brought us together for a reason. When he told me what he hoped to achieve, the vision for his perfect life…I was overwhelmed with joy.”
“His plan was to kidnap children.”
“He saved them. From themselves. From others. He saved their souls.” Anna stood. She checked the hall before closing the door to the kitchen. “Do you know how we found Mariam?”
Christ, we’d been trying to figure that out for weeks.
Who she was. Where she came from. How to find her parents.
“How?”
“She was living on the streets. Her mother was a crack whore.” She covered her lips, scouring the curse with a quick apology. “She never knew her father. Her mother sold her for a dime…and not the currency. That poor girl lived in a heroine den for two weeks before she could escape. She’d been beaten. Starved.” The words trembled. “And those animals raped her. Over and over. You would use that word to describe the love between a husband and wife, but I know what it really means. I treated her wounds. I healed what those barbarians did to her. She was half-starved and feverish, sick and begging for death. But we showed her what kindness was, and she chose this life.”
“You took her in, healed her, and then…” My heart broke for the little girl who never had the opportunity for a childhood. “You would marry her to a grown man?”
“You think it’s cruel.”
“Yes.”
“We live in different worlds, Detective.”
“But we follow the same laws.”
“Those laws are wrong. They apply to perverts and pedophiles. What we do here is good. Yes, we’re matched at young ages. But our souls are connected to our husbands. We love each other. It’s always, always for love.”
Christ, I hoped the others were as delusional as her, if only to spare them the terror of a life lived for another’s desires. “Tell me what happens here. How are they married?”
“So you can arrest the men I love?”
“So I can understand what this family is.” I took her hand. “So I know that it’s possible to survive something like this.”
I sweated, but I was so close to the truth. How could anyone live through the trauma that she’d endured and be unaffected? It wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome. It was as if…
As if she never lost control of her life.
Was she strong or weak? Self-assured or ignorant?
I had no idea, but every minute Anna spoke dizzied me with my own terror.
Would I ever be half as confident as she?
Anna spoke quietly, reluctantly. “We celebrate when we’re able to welcome someone new into the family. Yes…they’re taken. But once they’re here, they understand why we made the decision to save them. They forgive us. They thank us.”
“How do you make them understand?”
“Scripture.”
“Anna.”
“Prayer and counseling.”
“Anna, I found the room under the barn.”
This gave her pause. She drank her tea. “It’s a special place.”
“Did Jacob take you there?”
“We’ve all been there, London. It’s not what you think.”
“It looked terrifying. A bare mattress on the floor?”
She dismissed the concern with a wave. “It’s dressed
when we’re hosting a girl.”
“No food or water.”
She smiled. “I prepare their meals myself. More food than they can eat. Free-ranged chicken or beef from our own calves. Fresh water from our springs or milk from our cows. Believe me, they eat better here than they ever have before, especially since they’d come from situations with no food or malnourishment. We give them a healthy diet—in moderation, so they don’t get sick by stuffing themselves.”
“Do you ever withhold it?”
“If we do, it’s fasting. It’s for a purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“To show them that we are their caretakers, not captors. We can give them food. Shelter. Clothing. Love. And all they need to do is accept it.”
“But accepting it comes at a price?” I nodded to the gold band on her finger. “Marriage.”
“That is a reward.”
“Getting married?”
She winked at me, playful. “You should try it, London. A lovely woman like you deserves her happiness—any happiness.”
“I’d like it to be my choice.”
“And it’s their choice too,” she said. “Mariam might be young, but she understands what we ask of her. She knows the responsibilities and the benefits of a marriage.”
“Which are?”
“Serving our husbands. Leading good lives. Bringing children into the world.”
“And you think a ten-year-old can do this?”
“Of course. She’s ready to be wed.”
“She’s still a child.”
“Girls are becoming women at younger and younger ages, London. Surely you must see that in your work. It’s not unusual for ten, eleven-year-old girls to be ready for that blessing.”
“Just because her body is ready doesn’t mean she’s mentally or emotionally prepared.”
Anna didn’t believe me. “Our world is simpler than yours. She has nothing to fear from starting young. She’s been educated, and she’ll stay educated. Math, English, homemaking. But instead of suffering in public schools rotten with debauchery and sin, bullying and useless classes, she’ll learn what’s important. Scripture and family.”
“But no high school. No college.”
“She won’t miss that hellish experience.”
“Some people like it.”