by Rose Beecham
“Be that as it may, he’s not going to want to go to jail in the meantime. In fact, he is going to do whatever his lawyers tell him to do. And guess what? They’re going to tell him to blame everything on you.” As Naoma turned her head away, Jude said, “C’mon, Mrs. Epperson. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m saying. How long have you been married to this man? You know exactly who he is.”
“My husband will not speak of these matters.”
“You think he’s going to be loyal to you when he’s got Fawn Dew waiting out there in her pretty dress?” Jude mocked. “You think he’s going to go to jail to save your ass?”
Naoma reached for her glass. Water spilled from one side as she lifted it.
“Listen to me.” Jude softened her tone. “You have one chance to tell your side of the story. If you wait, your husband is going to cut a deal and walk out of here, and you’ll be left facing murder charges. Trust me. I’ve seen it a thousand times.” Leaning on her a little harder, she said, “Once I walk out of here, your chance goes away. I’ll be talking to his lawyers and taking down his statement. If you think he’s going to protect you, then that’s your funeral. Like I said, my boss doesn’t care who gets the needle for this.”
She got to her feet and Tulley unlocked the door. As Jude began to walk away, Naoma blurted, “Wait.”
Jude stood still. “I’m listening.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. For starters, who killed Darlene?”
“Not me.”
“Do you know who did?”
Naoma nodded, tight-lipped.
Jude returned to the table. “Are you willing to give me a statement about what happened without a lawyer present?”
Naoma said she was, and Jude reminded her again of her rights, then slid a waiver form in front of her and read it aloud before handing her a pen. After mentioning again that the interview was being recorded, she said, “Mrs. Epperson, I’m showing you a photograph. Do you recognize this girl?”
“Yes. She was my husband’s twelfth wife. We called her Diantha.”
“Do you know her real name?”
“Darlene Huntsberger.”
Looking past Naoma’s shoulder, Jude met Tulley’s eyes. He was doing his best to act like he routinely extracted murder confessions. Only his strenuous gum-chewing and propensity for rocking back and forth on his heels gave him away. Jude had asked him if he wanted to sit at the interview table, but he’d elected the spot by the door, maintaining that handsome would buy them nothing with Naoma. He was right. All the head wife wanted to do was survive so she could spend some of the cash she’d looted from her husband’s ill-gotten wealth.
“When did you first meet Darlene?” Jude asked.
“Two years ago. My husband came home from a trip to Colorado with her.” Naoma’s face was stony. “He said God had instructed him to take her as a wife.”
“Did Darlene agree to this marriage?”
“No.”
“How old was she?”
“Sixteen.”
“Did she try to leave?”
“Yes. She wanted to go back to her family.”
“What did your husband do?”
“He told us to purify her so that she was worthy to be sealed to him. She was under the influence of Satan.”
“How did you purify her?”
Naoma gulped some water down. “We had to beat the evil from her.”
“I see. Did she then agree to marry Mr. Epperson?”
Something flickered across Naoma’s face. “Yes.”
Jude gave her a hard look. “Well, that’s not the whole story, is it? What are you leaving out?”
Naoma’s eyes darted back and forth from Jude’s face to the tabletop. Like most subjects, she had no idea how transparent her body language and minute facial movements were to a highly trained detective. As a consequence, she was easily disconcerted.
Grudgingly, she said, “God revealed that she should marry one of my husband’s sons instead.”
“And did this marriage transpire?”
“Yes.”
“What was the name of the groom?”
“Hyrum Epperson.” Naoma drew the family portrait closer and stuck a finger on the hunchback with the twisted face. “Him.”
Hello, Mr. Snaggletooth. Jude stole a glance at Tulley. His arms were folded tightly across his chest. No doubt he could smell the ink on his commendation letter.
“But you said Darlene was your husband’s twelfth wife. Was she married to both men at the same time?”
“No. She was assigned to my husband later, once she had a baby on the way. God told him it was time to take her as a wife.”
The father takes the unattractive son’s pregnant wife away from him. No search party needed to find a motive for murder in a sick triangle like that one. “How did Hyrum feel about that?”
Naoma shrugged. “It was the fulfillment of prophecy.”
“What prophecy?”
“Before the end God will choose from among his servants one who takes the burden of his brother’s wife, she who multiplies his brother’s seed.”
Jude renewed her efforts to keep her face and voice free of expression. “We’ll need to confirm your story. Where can we find Hyrum?”
“He lives on the ranch.”
Tulley made a covert hand signal and pointed toward his teeth. Jude shook her head slightly. Flashing the plaster teeth at Naoma would only make her add two and two. If she thought they were in possession of evidence that could pin the murder on this Hyrum individual, they would lose their leverage.
Jude pondered her theory about the well-trained human pet once more. “You were saying you brought Hyrum up because his mother couldn’t manage him. Was this because of his physical disabilities?”
“Yes, but he was also possessed by demons.”
“How did you know that?”
“He could not be still, and when he read the scriptures he went into fits and foamed at the mouth.”
“Was he violent as a child?”
“No more than usual. I knew how to handle him.”
“Did you ever take him to a doctor for his condition?”
Naoma scoffed. “You gentiles think doctors have all the answers. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. My husband laid his hands upon Hyrum and our prayers were answered.”
“God healed him?”
“Not on the outside. But my husband received direction and he put Hyrum to work serving God instead of Satan.”
Jude wondered if Naoma really believed this. The woman didn’t strike her as an idiot, more likely a survivor, with a survivor’s adaptability and cunning. “What kind of work?”
“When my husband receives commands, Hyrum helps him carry them out.”
Jude took that to mean Nathaniel used his maimed son to do anything he didn’t want to dirty his hands with. She asked point blank, “Did God command that Darlene should be killed?”
“He must have.”
Jude slowly released a breath and kept her face carefully impassive. “Because your husband carried out the killing?”
“Yes. He received word from the Heavenly Father that Darlene had betrayed us and would have to atone by the spilling of blood. She had to be eliminated before she gave birth to an innocent who would be corrupted.”
“I heard that in your community babies are taken from unfit mothers and raised by others.”
“That happens,” Naoma conceded. “But God wanted this baby returned to him in heaven before Satan claimed it.”
“When did you last see Darlene alive?”
“Sunday, a month ago.”
“Tell me about that day. Where did you see her? What happened?”
“We were in the great room, praying and reading the scriptures together like we always do on the Lord’s day. That was when my husband received the revelation. When he proclaimed it, Darlene rejected God’s word and tried to run away.”
“Too pregnant t
o get far, I’m sure.”
“Yes. We brought her back so she could pray for the salvation of her soul.”
Jude nodded. What was wrong with these people? “What happened then?”
“After prayers, my husband took her away and I never saw her again.”
“Where was she killed?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you know how she was killed?”
Naoma hesitated. “Was her throat cut?”
“I’m asking you.”
“I said I wasn’t there. My husband didn’t tell me what they did.”
They. “Then what makes you think her throat was cut?”
Naoma was suddenly agitated. “You’re trying to trick me into saying something that makes me look like the guilty one.”
Jude studied her in silence. Over the years, she’d learned that amateur criminals were typically unnerved by prolonged scrutiny and would attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence. She played chicken with Naoma for several minutes, the head wife getting increasingly red-faced and restless.
Finally Jude allowed herself a sympathetic smile. “Let’s face it, Mrs. Epperson. You haven’t given me a thing. So far, it’s your word against your husband’s. Who do you think the jury is going to believe? A man prominent in his church, who has a house full of wives—it’s not like he needs to kill one to marry another. Or a head wife jealous of a young, beautiful woman who’s taken her place?”
Breathing hard, Naoma blurted, “I can prove Nathaniel did it. I kept the proof!”
“Go on,” Jude feigned boredom.
“He gave his raiment to me to wash. It was soaked in blood and there was a knife in the pocket. That’s why I thought they cut her throat.”
“What did you do with the clothing and the knife?”
Naoma eyes glittered with malice. “I put them in a trash bag and hid it in one of the barns.”
Jude felt her fingers curl into her palm and, for a moment, she kept the fist closed. A smoking gun. Naoma could parrot the submit-yourself crap all she wanted, but Gossett was right. This first wife hated her husband with a passion, and she was not as brainwashed as she made out. Not only had she siphoned a million bucks from his Armageddon scam, she’d kept herself an insurance policy in case she ever needed something to hold over him. Proof of his involvement in a murder—it didn’t get any better. Like a prisoner investing twenty years in digging a tunnel to freedom, Naoma had her eyes on the future, and she’d done whatever it took to survive in the meantime.
“I’ll need that evidence to prove you’re innocent,” Jude said blandly.
“If you let me go, I’ll tell you where it is.”
“Not an option. I’ll talk to the state attorney about reduced charges. But without that trash bag, I can promise you, you’re going down.”
She hoped Sergeant Gossett could obtain a warrant without going through the prophet’s tame judge. The ranch was on the Utah side of the boundary, and from what she’d ascertained, Mohave County had arrest authority, but who knew what would happen if the Utah powers-that-be caught a sniff of trouble brewing.
“Diantha was better off dead,” Naoma said with a trace of belligerence.
Jude bit back an angry retort and reminded herself that this woman was a victim too. She would serve time, and she would help nail the men who were the real criminals. It had to be enough.
Schooling her expression to one of unruffled tranquility, she slid a notepad across the table and said, “Draw me a map.”
The head wife looked her dead in the eye. “How long will I be in prison?”
“My guess? Five years.” As Naoma began sketching, Jude asked, “Where were you planning to go?”
Naoma didn’t pretend not to know what Jude was talking about. “Mexico.”
Jude summoned Tulley over and said, “Would you bring in some refreshments for Mrs. Epperson. Maybe a sandwich and a soda…”
Naoma looked up. “I’ll take a Turkey sandwich and Pepsi. And fetch me some ice cream. Ben and Jerry’s Karamel Sutra flavor. You can find that at the supermarket in Colorado City. Get two of them.”
Before Tulley could articulate a response, Jude said, “You heard the lady. Karamel Sutra.”
She stared at the bland beige wall as Naoma drew her picture. She would give a month’s pay to slap this woman’s face, but there was prima facie evidence to collect and a pair of handcuffs with Nathaniel Epperson’s name written on them. She could live with that.
Chapter Twelve
“This is a problem,” Sergeant Gossett said. He handed his binoculars to Jude.
They were parked about seventy-five yards from the Epperson house, Gossett standing next to his Ford pickup, Jude and Tulley beside a spare Mohave County black-and-white, and several deputies providing backup. It was not going to be enough. The place was barricaded, wood nailed over the windows, the barrels of rifles protruding from narrow gaps. The door had been fortified with a heavy iron grille bolted into place and, making as much sense as anything else about the cult, a Confederate flag was flying. Said charming touch aimed at the inevitable media, Jude supposed.
Her every instinct screamed. The situation had trouble with a capital T written all over it. “I think we should back off. It doesn’t look good.”
“Epperson won’t hang around,” Gossett said. “If we don’t pick him up now, he’ll be in Canada next time we come knocking.”
“I want to nail him too.” She didn’t add that she also wanted to get out of Utah without a major incident. “But for now, my priority is securing that evidence.”
“This can work as a distraction.” Gossett was full of bright ideas. “We’ll keep them occupied while you search that barn.”
“Let’s just notify Epperson of the search and get on with it. Then we should leave.”
“I hear you,” Gossett said. “But since we’re out here, we might as well try to bring him in. You never know. Sometimes people just want a way out.”
Jude shrugged, unwilling to overstep and risk their ability to do business in Gossett’s jurisdiction. If she was going to screw up their working arrangement, she needed to wait until after she had the murder weapon. She could see where Gossett was coming from. Cops like him spent their whole lives fighting the good fight, invisible and taken for granted, never getting a sniff at a glamour case. If Gossett was looking to make his mark before retiring, this was it. No matter how badly it panned out, there would probably be some fat in it for a guy like him, maybe even a book deal.
“It’s your call,” she said.
Gossett picked up a bullhorn, identified himself, and announced, “Nathaniel Epperson. We have a search warrant for the buildings and vehicles on this ranch. My staff will now proceed with the search. Should you wish to view the warrant, please lay down your arms and step out of the building with your hands on your head.”
The rifles remained in position, their barrels moving slightly until they were trained on the four police vehicles.
Gossett continued, “We don’t want anyone getting hurt here. Come out with your hands on your head. I personally guarantee your safety.”
The tableau remained inert, then, in a crackle of static, Epperson’s reply boomed contemptuously from a bullhorn of his own. “My safety is guaranteed by God. Yea, I will dwell forever in his heavenly sanctuary, where the crown, the heart, the seed, the feet, are unified into the most precious metal, paving the very streets with gold. Thus is the alchemy of the doctrine.”
“I left D.C. for this?” Jude muttered.
“I don’t think he’s coming out.” Tulley fidgeted with his bulletproof vest. Lowering his voice, he murmured to Jude, “What are we doing here? Why didn’t Gossett call the FBI?”
“He’s trying to avoid an escalation.”
“Could have fooled me.” Tulley cast a pointed look at the beefy sergeant.
He was dishing out orders to one of his deputies. “Call the state patrol. We need road blocks before this turns into a circus, ’cos it�
��s going to.” Catching a frown from Jude, he explained, “Don’t want to take any chances. If this goes out of control, the plygs will swarm in from the twin towns.”
“Terrific.” He had the fever. Jude had seen it before. Adrenaline could divorce the sanest people from their common sense and situations could suddenly gather a momentum of their own. It was on the brink of happening here.
“I’m calling Kingman,” Gossett went on. “We better get the Tactical Operations Unit out here.”
“Good plan.” Jude was aware of the clock ticking. She needed to get that evidence and extract herself and Tulley before this went south in a big way.
She scanned the outbuildings until she spotted the one that met Naoma’s description. Her objective was a small barn in poor repair, the farthest of three southwest of the house. Part of the building was charred from a fire. Jude figured she could make it as far as the large new barn nearest it without being seen. Then there was a stretch of about fifty yards in the open, completely visible to anyone watching from the north-south wing of the house.
There was always the possibility that the outbuildings themselves were staked out. Jude could see no sign of the search party on the surrounding hills. It seemed more than likely that they were holed up with Epperson, busting to defend his right to break any law he wanted on the grounds of “religious belief.”
She said, “That’s the objective. Farthest building to the right.”
“You could take one of the cars,” Gossett suggested.
“No. We need to group the vehicles for a shield.”
Three Ford PLs, a pickup and seven officers. Not exactly a show of force. There had to be at least thirty adults in that house, all of the males armed. And, if Fawn Dew was anything to go by, Epperson’s wives were gun-friendly too.
Jude studied the outbuildings closest to them, looking for protruding rifles or signs of movement. The windows and vents were too high for easy access. Any prospective snipers would have to be hanging from the rafters. But she had a feeling no one was out here. Epperson wanted a Waco. That much was obvious. He would have everyone assembled in that house, so if the whole thing went up in smoke the body count would be as high as possible.