Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop

by Secrets in Texas

  Angel stopped. “Are you applying for the job?”

  Ruth smiled coyly. “I would obey the Lord’s will if He chose Brother Matthew as my husband.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you would.” Angel narrowed her eyes. A wave of possessiveness had her fighting to remember this was a cover, nothing more. “But I have the final say, don’t I?”

  The girl nodded, her smile fading.

  “Matthew and I are newlyweds. It’s much too soon to consider a sister wife. But it looks like Brother Raphael could use some beauty in his life. Maybe you should see if he’s ready to add another wife.”

  Ruth’s eyes widened.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to help the rest of the women clean up the lunch mess. And spend some time with my husband.”

  Returning to the picnic tables, Angel busied herself with cleanup. The repetitive work helped her clear her mind and regain perspective.

  She felt much calmer when she returned to Matthew’s side. But he seemed distracted, constantly scanning the crowd.

  “Still haven’t seen your sister?”

  He shook his head. “Jonathon promised she’d be here today. I’m not sure I’d recognize her after all these years.”

  “Women change pretty quickly in appearance when they pop out a baby every year.”

  A half smile twitched at his mouth. “Yes, I guess so.”

  “You’re worried about her.”

  “Yes.” He lowered his voice. “There are people who used to report on Rebecca’s welfare to my mother. But since the group moved to Texas, the reports stopped. The authorities indicate they weren’t able to locate her on any of the satellite surveillance photos, either.”

  “The women don’t get out too much.”

  “No, they don’t. But most work at least a few hours a week in the vegetable garden. Not Rebecca, as far as I can tell.”

  “You’re shut in with the elders most of the day and we haven’t been given an opportunity to explore. We haven’t met anyone but Jonathon’s immediate family up till now. But I can see why you’re concerned.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  She touched his arm. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  “Not here, not now.” Matthew glanced over his shoulder, as if recalling Jonathon had eyes and ears everywhere.

  As if by magic, Eleanor approached. “Angel, it’s time to rejoin the women for afternoon studies.”

  “Yes, Eleanor. I’ll be along.”

  The older woman nodded and headed toward the meeting room designated for the women.

  “Is that why you came, Matthew? To help Rebecca?” she asked. Their official reason for being at Zion’s Gate was to determine how heavily armed the enclave was and assess the danger of another Waco. If they found evidence of other illegal activity, all the better. And Angel’s pet project was helping the women and children of Zion’s Gate. Now it appeared Matthew had a pet project of his own.

  “One of several reasons I can’t discuss here. Too much chance of being overheard. It’s important I find Rebecca, though.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for her. I think I recall a photo of your sister in your file.”

  He held her gaze. “Thank you, Angel. It means a lot.”

  “Hey, family is important. It can’t be easy for you to be back, and I imagine you have a pretty good reason for being here. Above and beyond whatever carrot was dangled.”

  She waited for him to protest, but he didn’t. His silence confirmed her suspicion that the government had offered him something to bring her here and provide a cover. Something they didn’t necessarily want her privy to.

  One thing was certain—Matthew’s concern for his sister was genuine. “If nothing else, maybe we can go to her,” she said.

  “I’ve tried, but Jonathon was evasive about her location.”

  “Let me see what I can find out. I better go.”

  Angel hurried to the women’s meeting hall, scanning the women’s faces. Occasionally she’d come to a female who vaguely resembled the photo of Rebecca. But there was a basic family resemblance to many of the Zion’s Gate residents. It seemed all were fair-skinned and light-eyed.

  Finally she gave up finding Rebecca. Instead she tried to focus on the endless testimonies, readings and sermonettes. Funny, the women professed to be as avid in their dedication to the principle as the men, maybe even more so, but Angel found their words hollow.

  Toward the end of one particularly long lecture, the hair on the back of Angel’s neck prickled. She could feel someone watching her. And it wasn’t the same as the curious stares she’d endured all day. It was more personal. Or so the sixth sense she’d developed while married to Kent told her.

  Glancing around, she mostly encountered the vacant stares of women trying to appear interested when in fact they’d zoned out.

  Across the meeting hall, her gaze locked with that of a young woman who quickly turned away. But not before the shock of recognition passed through Angel.

  Rebecca.

  Angel started to rise, but Eleanor grasped her arm.

  She tried to shake off Eleanor’s hand. The woman’s grip was firm.

  Angel glanced back toward Rebecca. She was gone.

  MATTHEW PACED THEIR small room. Frustration and lack of physical activity made him feel as if he might jump out of his skin. “You’re sure it was Rebecca?”

  Angel sat cross-legged on the bed, her cotton nightgown hiked up around her knees. “I can’t say for sure. I only saw her for a minute. This woman was older than the girl in the picture.”

  “Which would stand to reason.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she look well? Happy?”

  Angel sighed. “Matt, none of the women around here dance with unbridled joy. I wasn’t able to assess her mental state.”

  “You’re trained to observe detail. Surely you can remember something?”

  Angel closed her eyes. “She was fair, like in the picture. Pretty. Laugh lines around her mouth. That would suggest she’s happy at least part of the time. But also deep frown lines. And her complexion is different.”

  “The picture is probably old.”

  Nodding, Angel opened her eyes, and what he saw there made his stomach drop. Compassion. Or pity.

  “What did you remember?”

  “Her skin had a grayish pallor. Like someone who’s sick. And she was very thin.”

  He swallowed hard. “Jonathon said she’d been ill. But I thought it was an excuse to keep me from seeing her.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Until he’s sure of me, he’s probably afraid I might convince her to leave Zion’s Gate. I bet that’s why she’s not in this area with the rest of his wives.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I told you there were elders interested in marrying my sisters. Rebecca married Jonathon shortly after we left.” The words were bitter on his tongue. “We…were forced to go without her.”

  “But that’s obscene. She’s his niece.”

  “That wouldn’t stop my uncle. He feels he’s above the rules. He takes what he wants.”

  “Did Rebecca want to stay?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.” And correct the wrong he’d allowed to happen so many years ago.

  “Matthew?” Her voice was soft.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry you were dealt such a crappy hand. Why does your God allow bad things to happen to good people?”

  He sighed. “You don’t know how many times I’ve struggled with that myself.”

  “Did you ever find an answer?”

  “Not one that satisfied me.”

  She tilted her head. “Yet you still believe.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I lose my connection to God, I lose everything.”

  “Even a God who allows evil to hurt you?”

  He frowned, choosing his words carefully. “I think it breaks His heart w
hen His people hurt. But we are given a free will. To do good or evil.”

  “That really sucks, Matt. There were times when I cried out to Him and He didn’t help, didn’t answer.” Her voice trembled. “I realized I was on my own.”

  He went to her, cradled her head with his hand. “Oh, Angel, He was there. Caring for you, protecting you, even when you thought He wasn’t.”

  She wrenched away from him, scooting off the bed to stand on the other side. “You know nothing of what I went through. No god who loved me could have stood by and watched. So don’t offer me your platitudes.”

  Angel turned and stalked to the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her.

  Matthew paced the length of the room, wrestling with the knowledge that it was vital for her to open up to him. His mission was too important, too dangerous, to risk being blindsided.

  Nodding, he came to a decision. He waited five minutes then knocked on the door. “Angel? We need to talk.”

  “I’ll be out shortly.”

  “I’ll give you five and then I’m coming in after you.”

  “Yeah, you and what army?”

  He had to smile at her bravado. “I don’t need an army. I can get Aunt Eleanor.”

  “No, don’t do that.” He thought he detected a note of panic in her voice. Apparently Eleanor had managed to earn her grudging respect. Or fear.

  “Five minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  He went back and sat on the bed, glancing at his watch. He heard the bathroom door open in just over four minutes.

  Angel brought over the straight-backed chair, perching on the edge. “What is it?”

  “We’re both here to do a job. I can’t do mine unless I know what’s bugging you. If you have issues, it could well endanger me, too.”

  She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t have issues.”

  “We all have issues.”

  “Speak for yourself, buddy. I’m the picture of emotional health.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t. There’s something in your past that’s a hot button and I need to know what it is. If we’re going to continue working together so closely, you’ve got to trust me.”

  “No, I don’t. I merely have to tolerate you.”

  “Look, I’m probably more sensitive to personal freedom than most. I wouldn’t normally press. But this could be vital to our success here. Maybe even vital to our survival.”

  Angel raised her chin. “I went through a battery of psychological tests to become a DPS officer. My superiors are satisfied that I’m capable of doing the job. Why can’t you back off?”

  “Because I have a personal stake in this mission.” Urgency vibrated in his voice. This mission meant keeping promises to the people he loved, promises to himself.

  “I don’t owe you a thing.”

  “No, you don’t. But I confided in you about Rebecca. Now you need to be forthcoming with me. It’s the only way we can be an effective team.” Matthew waited, holding his breath.

  Angel sighed. “Fair enough. I’ll share, but then you get off my case.”

  He nodded.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “I was a lot different ten years ago. My father said I’d never met a stranger. I was friendly and outgoing and trusted everyone.” She hesitated, plucking at a loose thread on her nightgown.

  “Someone destroyed that trust?”

  “Yes. I met Kent in college. He was wonderful—everything I ever wanted in a man. Handsome, intelligent, attentive. I fell head over heels for him. Six months later we married.”

  Matthew absorbed her admission. It fit with some of the things her father had said at their wedding.

  “Almost immediately Kent decided he didn’t want to finish school. Said he could make more money working construction. Someday he hoped to have his own company. It sounded logical to me.” She smiled wryly. “He could make anything sound logical. When he got a job offer in Fort Worth, we both quit school. I intended to start again in the fall, but it didn’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Kent started to change. He couldn’t seem to hold a job. We needed my cashier job for the income and benefits. And, truth be told, I don’t think he wanted me to finish school.”

  “How did your folks feel about you moving from Houston?” Matthew recalled their protectiveness.

  “They said they would miss me, but understood I needed to make a life for myself. I missed them horribly. It didn’t take Kent long to cut me off from my family, my friends, everyone. They had no idea what he was really like. Soon I did medical transcription from home because my other job caused too much friction. Kent was convinced I was having an affair with every guy who came through my line.”

  Matthew’s stomach knotted. Isolation. Jealousy. Control. It all fit a pattern. “Did he hit you, Angelina?” his voice was calm and, he hoped, nonthreatening.

  “Yes. And punched and kicked and…all sorts of awful things.” The stark sadness in her eyes told him it was worse than he could imagine. “He was evil, Matthew. Absolutely evil. And he’d told me he loved me, couldn’t live without me. He was only trying to keep me safe. But the person I needed protection from was him.”

  She stood and wandered over to the cross-stitch sampler hanging on the wall. Trailing a finger across the glass, she said, “I begged and pleaded with God to protect me. And when he didn’t, I begged Him to release me from hell on earth. And one day it seemed I would get my wish. Kent had told me he didn’t want his jeans pressed with a crease anymore. I worked and worked and worked, trying to get rid of the crease. But it was permanent. When he put on his jeans, he went ballistic. Called me all sorts of names, threw me against the wall. Choked me.”

  Matthew could have gladly killed Kent. How could anyone treat another human being like that?

  “I fought back. I knew it only made things worse, but this time I fought back. He grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed me. I thought I was dying. He obviously thought I was dying, too, because he left me there.” Her voice was monotone as she relayed the rest of the story.

  Matthew suppressed a flash of rage. But Angel didn’t need his anger, she needed his understanding. Stepping behind her, Matthew touched her shoulder.

  She walked into his open arms. “Angelina, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of her head, wishing he’d been there to protect her. Wishing God had protected her. No wonder she had turned her back on the idea of a savior. When she’d needed one most, hers had seemed to desert her.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. But there was no weeping. He suspected she’d cried for the young Angel long ago.

  “What happened to Kent?” he asked.

  “He died instantly.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Angel leaned back and met his gaze, a question in her eyes.

  “It was too easy a death for someone like him. He should have suffered the way you suffered.”

  “What about turning the other cheek?” She touched his face.

  “Most times I try to live that part of the scriptures.”

  “And others?”

  “I believe in an eye for an eye.” Especially where monsters like Angel’s husband were concerned. And that included his uncle Jonathon.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “THERE, NOW YOU KNOW.” Angel put plenty of space between herself and Matthew. “You know my deep, dark secret—my hot button, as you put it. I assure you it won’t get in the way of doing my job. I dealt with it a long time ago.”

  Doubt slithered through the back of her mind. Was she sure?

  Angel raised her chin, willing confidence to radiate from every pore. What was it the counselor had told her? Fake it until you make it? It saddened her to realize she was back to faking it when she’d thought for so long she’d really made it.

  “You’re a professional and I understand you’re very good at what you do.” Matthew’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if he sensed her need to get back
on professional footing. “I don’t think you’d intentionally allow your feelings to interfere. But it’s necessary for me to know your history.”

  “My history, as you put it, is nobody’s business but my own. And I’m getting tired of waiting for Jonathon to give us the official okeydoke to move about freely.” She pulled the extra blankets from the bed and grabbed her pillow. “This place is messing with my mind. There are times when I wonder who I really am anymore.”

  “We have to be patient. Jonathon’s suspicious already, we don’t want to give him added ammunition. But you might want to be careful. Losing your identity is the first step in mind control.”

  Angel stopped midstride, her expression incredulous. “You think I’m falling under Jonathon’s spell?”

  “No. I think you’re human and so am I. It will be a challenge for both of us not to be drawn into Jonathon’s skewed version of reality. Doubly so because we must give the impression of having been won over to his way of thinking.”

  “All this analytical crap has given me a headache. I’m going to bed.” She arranged her blankets on the floor. Glaring at Matthew, she waited for him to argue as usual about taking the bed. He insisted on being gallant. She insisted on being equal partners, alternating nights on the floor.

  Tonight he didn’t argue. “Good night, Angelina.”

  She’d won. So why did it feel as if she’d given away a piece of her soul?

  ANGEL EYED MATTHEW as he ate his scrambled eggs. His manner was composed, his appetite impressive. He hadn’t given any indication this morning that their conversation last night had ever occurred. Good. That was the way she wanted to keep it. It embarrassed her that he knew about that time in her life. And in a more cynical moment, she worried that he might use the knowledge against her. She didn’t like people knowing her Achilles’ heel.

  He slid his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Aunt Eleanor, I’ll be coming home for lunch today. I’d like you to help Angel arrange her schedule so she can spend time with me.”

  Great. Just great. She shouldn’t have told Matthew about Kent. Now he was going to treat her like something breakable. Or, worse, something damaged.