by Alex Grecian
“Skottie,” Travis said, his voice floating up at her from the pitch black nothingness of the dungeon. “May I borrow your handcuffs?”
Skottie set Maddy down and took her hand, gripped it too hard, and Maddy yelped.
“Stay right here,” Skottie said. “Don’t move.”
She patted her waistline, found the cuffs clipped to her belt, and went back down the stairs, sliding her free hand along the wall until she felt solid ground beneath her feet. Another match was lit and Travis stood in a pool of light beside her. Behind him, Rudolph Goodman was moving up behind him, his cane raised above his head. Skottie dropped the cuffs, pulled her Glock, and fired past Travis in one fluid motion. The match went out, the cane dropped to the floor, and Rudy grunted.
“Travis? Are you okay?”
“Yes, and thank you. I do hope you have not killed him.”
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes. It matters to a great many people.”
14
Heinrich Goodman sat on a bunk across from Rachel Bloom. His right arm hung useless at his side, and the machine gun in his left hand was aimed at the floor. Kurt Goodman leaned against the chest of drawers and cast longing glances at the gun he had left on the floor.
“You knew what was going on,” Heinrich said. “You had to.”
“Not nearly, I didn’t,” Goodman said. “No, sir.”
“What did you think?”
“I guess I tried not to think too much.”
“You got paid very well for a sheriff.”
“I figured you were fleecing people dumb enough to join your church. That was okay with me. And maybe you made a mistake and somebody got hurt every once in a while. But they chose to be here, so they got the short end of the stick they grabbed.” He pointed to Rachel, who had begun to stir, moaning in her sleep and tugging at the handcuffs. “She didn’t choose this.”
Heinrich groaned and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his good hand, inadvertently shaking the machine gun at the ceiling.
“You’re bleedin’ pretty good there,” Goodman said.
“I was never going to harm her,” Heinrich said. He squinted and aimed his gun at Goodman. “Her husband’s a lawyer with the firm we use.”
“Too expensive to chain him to the bed?”
“This business with the old woman and the state trooper stirred things up. I needed him to do things, but he was asking a lot of questions.”
“I got some questions, too.”
“You’re my brother,” Heinrich said. “Whatever our disagreements, we’re family.” He used the Kalashnikov to point at the suitcase in the corner. “I have enough there you could come with me. We could start again somewhere.”
“Another Purity First?” Goodman put his hands in his jacket pockets, felt the smooth bulk of his stun gun.
“That was Dad’s thing. He never saw the potential in it, but I did.”
“Funneling drugs and people and guns through here?”
“Never drugs.”
“How much money you got?”
“Plenty for both of us,” Heinrich said.
“A little R & R on a beach somewheres?”
“Pretty ladies and fine food. No more tornadoes or blizzards. I’ve got it all figured out.”
Goodman nodded and looked out the window. He took out his pouch of tobacco and pinched a fresh wad into his cheek. On top of the dresser, the cartoon cat winked at him from the side of the little pink purse.
“Sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” Goodman said. “You got so much money, why didn’t you get outta here yesterday or last week? Why’d you wait?”
“I still had a shipment to send out, more cash coming in.”
“Couldn’t leave it behind, huh?”
“You were distracting the hunter. I thought I had time. I thought the holiday would slow everyone else down. I only needed till the end of the week.”
“You shouldn’t’ve took the girl.”
“I see that now.”
“And you shouldn’t have brung my deputy into this.”
“Christian’s my nephew.”
“He was my deputy.”
“This is pointless. Do you have a car? We should go.”
“Thing is, my car’s not gonna work. Nothing’s getting out of here except maybe that big juice-killer truck you got. Don’t think we’ll get too far in that.”
Rachel moaned again and her eyes fluttered open. Goodman pushed away from the chest of drawers and looked down at her. He smiled and hoped he didn’t look menacing.
“Ma’am, we’re gonna get you out of here in just a minute, okay?”
She shook her head. The skin around her mouth looked sore where he’d pulled the tape off. She worked her jaw without speaking and rolled her shoulders.
“Leave her,” Heinrich said. “We don’t have much time.”
“Where’s my duffel of undies?”
“What?”
“You wanted me with you, so I guess you must’ve already got me a change of socks or something.”
“I don’t—”
“How’m I gonna go along if I don’t got socks?”
He wheeled and pulled out the stun gun, reaching out toward his brother, already pressing the button with his thumb. But Heinrich was ready for him, raising the machine gun. He fired off a burst that splintered the floor and the box springs under Rachel. Goodman tried to dodge and smacked his head against the railing of the top bunk. As he fell back he brought his knee up against Heinrich’s jaw and heard a loud pop. He ducked and lurched forward again, falling on top of his brother. The stun gun was pressed between them, and Goodman’s thumb was trapped holding down the button so that the voltage was divided between them. They juddered and shook, the thin mattress bouncing under them.
Goodman accidentally swallowed his tobacco and gagged. He rolled sideways and dropped the stun gun, jammed his arms outward, unable to work his fingers, and knocked the Kalashnikov away from his brother.
He fell off the edge of the bed, still tingling, and pushed himself up off the floor, blinking hard and shaking his head back and forth, trying to bring the room into focus. He crawled around in a circle, scrabbling at the carpet until he found the warm stock of the Kalashnikov, and he grabbed it. He got to his knees and swung around as Heinrich sat up.
“Kurt—”
Goodman pulled the trigger and Heinrich’s body danced down the edge of the bed and toppled to the floor. Goodman took his finger off the trigger and counted to ten again, watching Heinrich’s body, then he dropped the gun and stood up.
As the echo of gunfire faded, he realized Rachel Bloom was screaming, and he turned toward her, held his hands out.
“Give me a second and we’ll get you out of here,” he said.
He went to Heinrich and bent over him, checked each of his pockets until he found a key ring. The smallest key on the ring was stamped with the brand name of the handcuff manufacturer. He held it out for Rachel to see and knelt by the bed.
“You know Doc Roan,” he said. “I’m his good buddy. We been looking for you.”
15
The stairs were easier going up than they had been coming down, except that they had the extra weight of Rudy Goodman supported between them, his cuffed hands swinging limp, blood trickling down his arms, dripping on their shoes. Maddy climbed the steps on her own, clinging to Bear. They emerged into the church nave and stood blinking for a moment at the sudden daylight, and at the damage that had been done to the old stone structure. The back wall had crumbled further and rifts had opened in the ceiling. Water trickled from above and splashed onto the remains of the intricate woodwork and the stained glass.
Quincy was sitting in a front pew, and he jumped up when they entered.
“Your dad’s doing okay for now, amigo,” he said, “but I t
hink we better get out of here. This whole building’s gonna fall apart.”
“Let it,” Skottie said.
16
They came out of the church into pouring rain. Lightning lit up the sky. Travis carried his father in his arms. Quincy had hoisted Rudy over his shoulder in a fireman carry, and Skottie carried Maddy, aware she was squeezing her too tight but not caring.
A handful of the men and women of Purity First were wandering in and out of the sheds carrying bags and boxes, their brown shirts hanging limp and wet. Sheriff Goodman came out of a house beside the church with his arm around a woman’s shoulders, supporting her weight. Travis had to look hard to recognize Rachel Bloom.
“She’ll be okay,” Goodman said as they drew even with the others. “Probably not goin’ to any church socials for a while.”
“Good work, Sheriff.”
Goodman flashed him something he must have thought was a smile and tipped his hat. Rainwater poured off the brim.
Quincy let go of Rudy’s body and let him drop in the mud.
“Damn,” Goodman said.
“I am sorry,” Travis said. “It was not my intention to kill your father.”
“It was me,” Skottie said, raising her voice to be heard over the rain. “It’s not his fault. I did it.”
Goodman shook his head. “Hell of a day I’m having.”
Travis took a step toward the sheriff, but stopped when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His skin tingled with static electricity. He looked at Skottie, and her eyes were wide. She felt it, too. She turned back toward the shelter of the stone wall, shielding Maddy with her body, and at the same instant lightning slashed down, striking the flagpole. Every shadow in the compound disappeared, swallowed by the bright blaze of electricity. Travis jumped, and he heard Maddy scream. The flagpole sizzled with heat and the flags burst into flames, the wolf’s head suddenly ablaze. A finger of lightning split off, flashed through the air, and touched Rudy Goodman. Rudy twitched and writhed in the mud as the lightning faded to an afterimage and a clap of thunder rocked the compound.
There was a moment of complete stillness, even the rain seemed to stop, frozen in midair, then life and motion returned again. The flags atop the pole crackled and sparked in defiance of the pelting rain, turning black at the edges.
“Quincy,” Travis said, “are you all right?”
“I’m fine, amigo,” he said. He let out a long sigh. “Just scared the hell out of me.”
He dropped to one knee and held two fingers against Rudy’s throat. He leaned down and listened, then looked back up at them, wide-eyed.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” Quincy said.
PART FOUR
THANKSGIVING
CHAPTER TWELVE
1
There was no turkey dinner for any of them that day.
Four agents from the Kansas Bureau of Investigation arrived before nine o’clock that morning after having received a tip from the Comanche County sheriff that girls were being run out of Purity First. They brought the local police and Lieutenant Johnson of the Highway Patrol with them.
The presence of Sheriff Goodman and Deputy Griffith helped Skottie and Travis persuade the other authorities that they weren’t vigilantes. The sheriff told a story that was at least partially true: He had been given reason to believe that a young girl was being held against her will in the church and was in imminent danger. He had deputized Officer Foster and Dr. Roan, and they had entered the compound without a warrant but with just cause.
KBI agents went through the churchyard and the outbuildings and seized the weapons cache. They found evidence that people had been chained to beds in many of the buildings. Rachel Bloom was led away to an ambulance and, along with Ransom Roan and Rudy Goodman, was taken to the Burden County Clinic.
Dr. Iversen was called in to deal with the corpses of Heinrich Goodman and Lou-Ellen Quinlan. The doctor greeted Skottie and gave Maddy a lollipop from his pocket.
“You are a very brave girl,” he said.
When he left to examine Heinrich’s body, Maddy put the lollipop in her pocket and shook her head. “A lollipop?”
“Hush,” Skottie said.
“But a lollipop, Mom.”
Skottie laughed. “Maddy!”
“What am I, five years old?”
All of them—Skottie, Maddy, Travis, Sheriff Goodman, and Quincy—were taken to the sheriff’s office in Paradise Flats, where the KBI had set up a temporary base. A canine control officer was called in, but Travis persuaded the agent in charge to let him keep control of Bear. They put Bear in the enclosure behind the offices with the three German shepherds. The other dogs retreated to the far corner of their pen while Bear ate their food.
All Thanksgiving day, they sat in plastic chairs in the waiting room, were called into the back offices one at a time for questioning, then brought back out and left waiting until they were called back again to confirm answers they had already given. When they were finally released, they were too tired to talk.
Skottie took Maddy home, and Emmaline fed them soup and put them to bed.
2
Skottie slept until the following afternoon and woke with a splitting headache. She stumbled out into the living room, surprised to see Sheriff Goodman dozing on the couch in front of the television. Maddy sat on the floor in front of him, braiding Bear’s mane. The house smelled like cranberries and roasting turkey.
Emmaline was in the kitchen, cooking a late Thanksgiving feast. Skottie tried to help, but Emmaline pushed her out of the kitchen.
“You just tell everybody to wash up,” Emmaline said. “Five minutes till we eat.”
Skottie delivered the message. Bear rolled his big mournful eyes up at Skottie as if asking to be rescued, but he didn’t move from Maddy’s side.
Goodman yawned and stood up. He grabbed his hat from the back of the couch.
“Just checkin’ in on you today,” he said. He looked like he had aged a decade since Skottie had first met him. “I don’t mean to be underfoot.”
“I’m sure my mom cooked way more than we can eat.”
“Thanks, but I got plans to eat Thanksgiving leftovers with my girls and Quincy.”
“Listen, I really am sorry about your dad.”
“Don’t be. I don’t claim to be any relation to that monster. What they’re finding in that place of his, the things he was doing . . . I had no idea, but this has been comin’ for him since before I was born.”
“Any word from the KBI?”
“They ain’t gonna tell me anything. I’m not exactly their kinda lawman.” He sighed. “I think I’m gonna hang up the badge. After I fire Puckett.”
“Can I watch you do that?”
“Front-row seat,” Goodman said. “Got a lot I wanna do. The church’ll drift apart, now that my dad and brother are gone, but I wanna speed up the process some. I’m gonna tear down what’s left of the fence, fix up the hole in the wall, and turn that place into something useful. Maybe serve lunches in there.” He shrugged. “Enough harm got done to folks out there, be nice if the place was good for somebody.”
“If Heinrich was selling weapons and . . . well, people . . .”
“Yeah, he had some money, but the KBI’s gonna seize that. Too bad, too.”
“You think it’ll be easy to quit being sheriff?”
“You think I oughta stay? After everything goin’ on under my nose?”
“You think you should take all the responsibility?”
Goodman grinned at her. “I was never much good at it anyway. My aim was running folks off if I thought they might be trouble. Turns out the trouble was already there. But this way I get to go out on a high note, a blaze of glory. I rescued the damsel in distress, you know?”
Skottie laughed.
“Anyway, I’m the only Goodman left,
and it’d be nice if that name could stand for something.”
“People are gonna need a sheriff.”
“I got an idea one of my deputies can do the job better’n me.” He winked. “Gonna talk to Quincy about running. Think he’ll go for it?”
“He’d be good for it,” Skottie said.
“I think so, too. And I’d be around if he needs advice.”
“He shot that woman, though.”
“It was a righteous kill,” Goodman said.
“Doesn’t matter. He shot a white woman at her church.”
“Well, since his rifle disappeared, I don’t see how anyone’s gonna prove that ever happened.”
“Where . . . ?”
“You see how many rifles them people had out there? Shotguns, machine guns, you name it. If somebody dropped one or two more in there, it’d be like needles in a haystack.” He tipped his hat and winked.
Travis was on the front porch smoking a cigarette when they went out.
“I am only having one,” he said. “Then I will throw the pack away.”
“Hell, smoke ’em all, Doc,” Goodman said. “We ain’t gonna tell nobody.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Travis said.
They were quiet for a while after Goodman drove away. The rain had turned into a light snowfall that dusted the hedges and the porch railing. At last Skottie broke the silence.
“Any news about your dad?”
“No good news,” Travis said. “But my mother is on her way. I will take her to the hospital when she arrives. My father has some motor control, and his mind appears to be his own.”
“Must be frustrating for him.”
“I imagine so.”
Skottie realized Brandon was probably still in the hospital, too, still recovering from a concussion and worrying about their daughter. Skottie decided she would take him some turkey and pie later in the day.