Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop

by Secrets in Texas

  Angel stiffened. “Eleanor—”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “Angel is here under false pretenses.”

  Whispers filled the room.

  Angel’s fingernails dug into his palm.

  Matthew stood. “You must be mistaken, Aunt Eleanor.”

  “Silence,” Jonathon boomed, sounding like the wizard in The Wizard of Oz. But this was no bumbling, benign man masquerading behind a velvet curtain. This man really thought he was omnipotent.

  “Please go on, Eleanor,” Jonathon encouraged.

  Matthew longed to wipe the benevolent smile from his uncle’s face.

  Eleanor nodded. “I allowed Angel access to every area of the house but Jonathon’s study. I’ve watched her, I’ve tried to learn her heart. I…I thought I knew her. So today I allowed her to use the computer in Jonathon’s study. We worked on a genealogy study, a project close to my heart. Then I remembered I’d promised to take some honey to our dear, sweet Rebecca.”

  Rebecca made a low noise of dismay.

  “Angel worked on the genealogy program I’d started. She also started one for her ancestors. It wasn’t until I was tidying up that I found this.” Eleanor unfolded a sheet of white paper and held it aloft, then handed it to Rebecca.

  Rebecca read for a few seconds, gasped and passed the paper to the next person.

  “It appears to be a page from a manuscript. You’ll notice Harrison is the name in the header. It’s not unusual for a woman to use her maiden name as a pen name. Harrison is also the name she input in the genealogy program.”

  Matthew frowned. What was she getting at?

  “As some of you know, Jonathon allowed me to take a computer class, so I have a very basic amount of computer knowledge. I did an Internet search on Angel Harrison.”

  Holy crap. Then Matthew exhaled, remembering there wasn’t a thing anyone could find out about Angel simply by Googling her name.

  “Angel is an aspiring writer of young-adult novels,” Eleanor announced. “She’s writing a book about two young girls who escape a polygamist sect and solve mysteries along the way.”

  Matthew smothered an incredulous laugh. Eleanor’s story was so removed from the truth it was ludicrous. But, glancing at the faces around him, obviously believable.

  “It’s evident she used poor Matthew to gain access to our community. And equally as evident she abused our hospitality and intends to exploit us in the most heinous manner.”

  Angel snagged the sheet of paper from the elder sitting in front of them. Her mouth thinned as she scanned it quickly. Jumping to her feet, eyes blazing, she said, “I did not write this. I love my husband, and for you to imply anything different is wrong.”

  Eleanor’s cheeks flamed. Her eyes were bright with the light of battle. “Are you calling me a liar? I have lived in this community all my life. I have been a good wife, mother and neighbor. I love our Lord and want nothing but the best for our people. How dare you call me a liar. You, you, you…Jezebel. Fornicating day and night until decent people can’t stand to look at you.”

  Eleanor’s attack shocked him so badly he barely noticed Angel begin to tremble.

  He chafed her cold hand in his. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and unfocused, as if she inhabited another world.

  “It’s okay, Angelina. I know she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t mean it.” Because he’d loved and trusted Eleanor. And so had Angel.

  “Jonathon, you must put a stop to this foolishness,” Matthew challenged. He chose his words carefully, trying to convey the truth without lying about Angel’s vocation. “Surely you don’t believe my wife would hurt the people of Zion’s Gate.”

  Jonathon stepped behind Eleanor and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Eleanor is a good and righteous woman. If she says these things, they are surely true.” He gestured toward the chair. “Please sit down, Eleanor.”

  She complied, her movements slow, as if she were too tired to move.

  “Matthew, it is my decision Angel must leave Zion’s Gate.”

  “No,” Angel murmured, her eyes still glazed.

  “If Angel leaves, I leave.”

  “No, you won’t. You will obey God’s will and marry Ruth. Then you’ll train to assume leadership of Zion’s Gate when I am no longer able. Many wives and sons will be yours, ensuring an enviable place in heaven.”

  Jonathon dangled a sizable carrot, especially for a man raised to believe the principle of plurality. Wealth, power, as many women as he wanted and the promise of a prime spot in heaven. It didn’t get much better than that.

  But it wasn’t a scenario that appealed to Matthew. All he wanted was a life with Angel and a safe, happy home in which to raise their children.

  “I appreciate your confidence in me, Uncle. And while I think I could be a good leader for our people, I refuse to consider life without Angel.”

  Matthew felt Angel’s hand relax in his.

  Jonathon paced. “You mean to tell me you choose a woman who has deceived you over your own family?”

  “No, Uncle, you are forcing me to choose between the woman I love and my family.”

  “If you leave, you will never see your sister again.” The venom in Jonathon’s voice was staggering. “And what will you tell your dying mother? That you let your lust for this woman override your good sense? That you betrayed your family?”

  Anger burned hot and bright in Matthew. How dare Jonathon speak of his mother. He didn’t care about her. It was a desperate shot designed to push Matthew’s buttons. And he’d almost succeeded, damn it.

  Matthew managed to keep silent.

  Rebecca stood. She reached her hand to Jonathon. “My mother is dying?”

  “Tell her, Matthew.”

  Turning, Rebecca’s eyes were huge, the dark circles beneath them a stark contrast to her pale face. “Is our mother dying, Matthew?”

  “She’s undergoing treatment for cancer. We don’t know her prognosis.”

  “I imagine a visit from her daughter would be the best possible tonic.” Jonathon’s tone was oily. The man really was a snake. He was holding Rebecca and his mother’s very life as hostage, gambling that Matthew hadn’t broken all contact with his mother to rejoin the group.

  “I’m so sorry, Matt,” Angel murmured.

  He looked at her. Looked at Rebecca. His shoulders slumped. “You leave me no choice. But I will ride with Angel to town to ensure her safety.”

  Angel’s heart ached at the thought of being separated from Matthew. What if something happened? He’d be here alone, without her to watch his back. “No, I won’t leave you.”

  Jonathon’s face flushed. Righteous anger made him look larger than life as he raised his fist. “To accept your role as an elder and leader-in-training, you will publicly denounce evil. Right here, right now. As our Lord shouted out Satan, you will shout out the she-devil who wormed her way into our midst, took advantage of your good nature and sought to harm us.”

  “I can’t.”

  Jonathon grabbed Rebecca and jerked her to his side. He might as well have had a gun to her head, his intent was so clear. He had to subjugate Matthew completely and publicly, intimidation designed to remind the elders who was boss. And to remind Matthew not to challenge his authority.

  Angel understood this intellectually. But it didn’t prepare her for the assault she knew was coming.

  Remorse was written in every line on Matthew’s face. Before the mask dropped and his face became a stern visage. A man she had never seen before.

  “Get out!” he shouted. “She-devil, you are not welcome here.”

  Matthew stepped closer, towering over her. Much as Kent had towered over her before he vented his rage.

  “You must proclaim her crimes against you and our community.” Jonathon’s voice was loud, too, as if attempting to incite a riot.

  Angel tried to keep her mind firmly on the job. To detach emotionally from what was happening. But the Angel she once was kept getting in the way. The bi
tter taste of fear was an unwelcome reminder that she was emotionally involved.

  “Angel Harrison.” Matthew’s use of her maiden name inflicted almost as much damage as his intimidating yell and the fury in his face.

  Intellectually she knew Matthew was acting. Knew he would never hurt her. But memories of Kent surfaced. Memories of learning that the man she loved wanted to kill her. Angel stepped back, knocking over a folding chair. It made a harsh clatter as it hit the concrete floor, each bounce, each echo, stabbing at her nerves.

  “You have deceived me. Taken my trust and twisted it. I loved you, cared for you and accepted you as my celestial wife.”

  “Matthew, no.” The denial fell from her lips as she instinctively reacted, uncaring that these were the words Jonathon wanted Matthew to say. The words wounded the same as if they’d come straight from his heart.

  “You lured me with your wanton sexuality. Blinded me with visions of your naked breasts and thighs.”

  One of the women gasped. It could have been Eleanor or Rebecca. Another time, Angel might have found their naiveté amusing. But now it simply underscored how powerful Matthew’s attack was.

  It took supreme effort to raise her chin and look him in the eye. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Whore!” he yelled, pointing his finger in her face. “I can’t stand the sight of you. You aren’t fit to kiss my feet.”

  His face was thunderous. Barely restrained rage rolled off him in waves, containing an electricity that was terrifying to behold.

  She knew he could move with lightning speed once the unholy tirade touched off an explosion inside, releasing evil. Kent was always that way before he hurt her.

  Angel shook her head, trying to clear it.

  “Be gone. Get out of my sight. Or so help me…” He raised his clenched fist above his head.

  The instinct to survive had her fleeing before he completed the sentence. She ran from the room, nearly tripping over her own feet but not slowing.

  Once outside, she glanced wildly from side to side. The gate. She’d run back to town if necessary.

  Before she could take another step a hand closed on her arm.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ANGEL TURNED, prepared to fight for her life.

  “It’s Rebecca. I won’t hurt you. Neither will Matthew. He’s not that way.”

  “How would you know?” Angel was relieved Rebecca was alone. “You haven’t seen him in years.”

  Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re right. But the Matthew I knew was always a gentle boy. I—I guess I just wanted things to be different.”

  “For Matthew? Or with Jonathon?”

  “Both.” Rebecca’s voice was soft, without inflection. As if Matthew’s diatribe had sapped what little hope she had left. “Jonathon said he’d drive you into town tomorrow. I’d so wanted to get to know you.”

  Angel took a shaky breath. “Me, too. Matthew and I wanted to see you, but Jonathon said you were too ill.”

  “He…exaggerates about my health.”

  “Is it something Matthew should know about? He’ll get you the best doctors—”

  “No! That’s not necessary. I simply lose my appetite when I’m tense or sad. It worries Jonathon that I don’t eat.”

  Anorexia? For a woman who couldn’t control much in her life, controlling the food she ate was almost understandable. It would explain her thinness and ashy skin tone.

  Angel touched Rebecca’s arm. “If there’s ever anything I can do, just ask.”

  “But you won’t be here.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes.

  Angel swallowed hard. It pained her to turn her back on a woman in need. A woman no doubt victimized by her husband. How many other women like Rebecca were there at Zion’s Gate?

  “I don’t have a choice. I’d stay if they’d let me. Could you persuade Jonathon?”

  “No. It doesn’t matter what I say. He’s made up his mind.” Rebecca glanced over Angel’s shoulder. “I better go,” she said and quickly walked away.

  Angel turned to see Jonathon and Matthew approach. She clenched her hands so hard her nails bit into her palms.

  “Matthew will escort you to Eleanor’s house.” Jonathon’s tone was terse. “You shall remain in your room until we leave at sunup tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t there somewhere else I can stay?” Eleanor’s betrayal hurt more than she could have imagined. And Matthew’s words, though orchestrated by Jonathon, still stung.

  “No.” He addressed Matthew. “See that she behaves. She duped you once. Don’t let it happen again. I’ll hold you responsible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jonathon nodded and followed Rebecca. Angel hoped she hadn’t gotten the woman in trouble by talking to her.

  Matthew grasped her arm. “Come, Angelina.”

  “Don’t call me that.” She pulled away from him.

  “Angel, I hope this is an act,” he whispered. “You know I didn’t mean any of it.”

  “I need time to think.”

  “We’ll talk when we get home.”

  But it wasn’t home. The place where she’d come to feel a part of the family was now a facade.

  MATTHEW WOULD HAVE found the routine sound of running water soothing, knowing Angel readied herself for bed. But everything was different. He sat on their bed, unwilling to lie down. He knew sleep would be out of the question.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out the images of Angel as he’d hollered at her. How small and scared she’d looked, as if she’d wanted to make herself disappear. And he’d been the cause.

  Angel exited the bathroom, brushing by him without saying a word.

  “We have to talk.”

  “I’m not sure what there is to say.”

  He grasped her by the shoulders. “It wasn’t true. I didn’t mean a word of it.”

  “Don’t you understand, Matthew? It doesn’t matter. What matters is in here.” She tapped her chest. “Whether it’s logical or not, you hurt me… Not only did I go to a place in my head I swore I’d never go again, but I forgot the reason I was here. I endangered myself and the people I came to help. All because of my feelings for you.”

  He grasped her arms. “I love you. And you said you loved me. Yes, it’s crummy that we fell in love when we did. But it happened for a reason. If it causes problems for you, we’ll deal with it. The last thing I intend to do is interfere with your job.”

  “You don’t intend to, but you already have. You believe we met and fell in love for a reason. Well, I believe things happen for a reason, too.” She hesitated. “When I was in the hospital, I tried to figure out why God had allowed Kent to do those things to me. And sometimes in the middle of the night, I’d wonder why I survived. Finally I realized I survived to help other people. If I don’t have that, what do I have?”

  “This was an isolated incident. It won’t happen again.”

  “How can you be sure?” Her eyes were dark with pain.

  He couldn’t. But he couldn’t face losing her, either. “There are no sure things, Angel. I’m willing to fight for us, to do whatever it takes. All I ask is that you don’t make any snap decisions.”

  Angel shrugged off his hands and turned away. “I’ll try not to. That’s the best I can do.”

  His instinct was to hold on to her. But he knew he would drive her away if he did. His voice was husky when he said, “I guess I’ll have to accept that.”

  She nodded.

  “Under the circumstances, do you mind if I still sleep on the floor here?”

  “The floor’s fine.” Because she’d already shut him out.

  “Sleep tight, Angelina.”

  Pulling the blankets and pillow from the closet, he piled them on the floor. He turned off the light and lay down. But there were too many memories. Particularly vivid was the memory of the first time he’d made love with Angel.

  Matthew tossed and turned for almost two hours and knew he c
ouldn’t stay in the same room with her. His emotions were too raw.

  Listening to Angel’s even breathing, he decided to do something, anything, to feel like he was the master of his own fate.

  Maybe he could break into the study and find something they’d overlooked before? Matthew stood and quietly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He exited the bedroom and carefully shut the door behind him. Glancing at Ruth’s door, he was grateful no light showed beneath. She was one problem he wasn’t ready to face.

  When Matthew reached the study door, he was surprised to see a strip of light. He turned the knob slowly and stepped inside.

  Eleanor was at the computer, so engrossed in the screen she didn’t seem to hear him.

  “Aunt Eleanor.”

  She started. “Matthew, what are you doing up?”

  “I imagine the same as you. I can’t sleep.”

  Eleanor sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yes, it’s been a difficult day.”

  “Why’d you do it?” His voice was low, full of pain and confusion.

  “I didn’t feel I had a choice. I did what I thought necessary to protect Angel.”

  “To protect her? Hardly.”

  “Do you want to tell me what her real occupation is?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. That’s why I came up with the story about Angel being a writer. Enough to get her sent away but not threatening enough that she’d be harmed.”

  “You think Uncle Jonathon would hurt her?”

  “There are things happening at Zion’s Gate you don’t understand.”

  “Raphael said the same thing. So tell me what’s going on.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I can’t. It’s not that simple. I won’t knowingly harm Jonathon.”

  “You’re still loyal to him? You realize he probably engineered my father’s death, don’t you?”

  “I suspected. But I have no proof. Yet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”