*****
Deidre was unaware of any of the commotion until she and Ben were watching the ten o’clock news on TV. Every channel from Duluth had sent a film crew up the shore, and the two of them sat engrossed by the pictures they were seeing.
First to be interviewed was a safety inspector from the railroad. The reporter asked the obvious question: “Do you have any idea what caused this derailment?”
“Well, let me begin by saying that our condolences go out to the families of those who were on the train. We want to assure them that every precaution was taken to prevent an accident like this, and I’m sure we will find that it was nothing more than an unpreventable happenstance. It’s unfortunate, but railroading is a dangerous occupation. Our workers know this and accept the risk. They are paid wages commensurately.”
The reporter blinked, scarcely believing what she had just heard. “But, sir, you didn’t answer my question. Do you have any idea what caused this derailment?”
He glared at her. “No,” he said sharply and turned away to busy himself with another seemingly important duty.
The reporter moved to where a group of workers stood in a circle. She thrust herself into the ring and held the microphone out. “Do any of you have an idea what happened here today?” There was silence until one man spoke up.
“The rail was sabotaged. A whole section before the switch is torn out. The thing is, there are no spikes laying around. None. Listen to me. Somebody pulled the spikes last night and meant for this to happen. When they catch the bugger, I hope they wring his neck, the dirty SOB.”
Again, the reporter was at a loss for words, and her confusion was evident as she tried to think of what to ask next. While she was groping for a thought, the railroad inspector burst into the group and told the men to not answer any more questions. They shuffled away in different directions.
Ben and Deidre looked at each other, speechless at the callousness of the official they had witnessed. Ben said out loud what Deidre had been thinking. “All he could think of was covering his own hind end.” He turned off the TV in disgust.
Chapter Ten
Ben left for work a little after seven, and the school bus picked up the girls ten minutes later. By seven forty, Deidre was out the door and on her way to Toimi, a wilderness community thirty miles north of Two Harbors. Because of Reverend Isaiah’s negative rhetoric about gays, she had decided to pay him a visit this morning, and she suspected he would be found at the small church he ran.
At one time the Toimi area had been inhabited mostly by hard working Finns who tried farming the rocky, yellow-sand soil. They subsisted by raising a few animals, logging in the winter, and poaching a deer now and then. Now, most of its people were older. Their children, not wanting to set down roots in isolation, left the area as soon as they could to find work and live in the modern world. Deidre was curious why anyone would try to keep a church going in such a remote territory. As she drove, she thought of Reverend Isaiah.
Reverend Isaiah—no one knew if he had another name—had come to the area some ten or twelve years ago. He brought several people with him: his wife, Sarah; three sons, Abraham, Jacob, and Joshua; and two teenage girls, Hannah, and Rebecca, who didn’t seem to be part of his immediate family. Two other families came with him, but they were seldom seen in town. Altogether, the sect numbered about twenty, including the children, whose ages at the time seemed to span about twelve years, the youngest a toddler.
They were grown now. The oldest boys must have been in their mid-twenties, and the girl who had been a toddler would be about thirteen or fourteen.
The group had used a technicality, what some called underhandedness, to purchase Toimi’s tiny rural community church. Its small congregation had failed to register the proper papers with the IRS. They had temporarily lost their non-profit status, during which time they accrued a small property tax bill, a bill they were unaware of until two years later when the property was declared tax forfeit and scheduled to be auctioned off by the county. Reverend Isaiah paid the taxes for the church, then billed the congregation that amount plus exorbitant fees and interest. The few people of the congregation couldn’t come up with the money and signed the church over to him. Forty acres of wilderness land was included in the deal.
Every week, the reverend ran an ad in the local paper declaring homosexuality to be a sin and quoting obscure Bible passages from Leviticus declaring that homosexuals should be stoned by the community. Not only that, he offered his services to the gay and lesbian community. Anyone suspecting they were homosexual could come see him, he claimed, and he would perform an exorcism, driving out the demons which caused what he termed “their sinful sexually deviant behavior.”
Deidre thought she would not be surprised to find that he or members of his group would be capable of violence toward anyone with alternative lifestyles. She was so deep in thought that she missed the dirt road which led to the church and behind that, the group of buildings housing the reverend’s followers. She turned around at the first opportunity and returned to the driveway.
As she parked her car, she saw children and women working in the several gardens maintained by the group, and it reminded her that they were in some sort of survivalist mode. The women all had long hair which hung nearly to their waists in single rope-like braids They wore ankle-length dresses and high-collared blouses. Even the little girls were attired the same way, and the boys wore heavy leather workboots that could have used some polish. Long-sleeved shirts covered their arms, and they wore suspenders, which made them look like miniature old men.
Deidre stared at the children. They looked as if they had been made with a cookie cutter, all looking alike to her as though they were closely related. Too closely, she thought. None of them raised their heads to look her way when she walked up.
“Hello. I’m looking for Reverend Isaiah.” A couple of children looked up but said nothing. The women continued to hoe the rows. “Is the reverend home today? He usually doesn’t come into town until Saturday.” Finally, one woman spoke, although she didn’t look up, nor did she break the cadence of her work.
“Reverend Isaiah is praying in the chapel. Best not to disturb him while he’s praying for us. That’s what gives us strength to keep working, his prayers.”
Deidre could hardly keep from snatching the woman’s hoe from her hands and saying, “This is abuse. Don’t you know that?” but instead she said “Thank you. Try to have a nice day.”
Even though it was only two hundred yards back to the chapel, Deidre drove her car. She wanted it nearby where she could see it, and she felt the hair on her neck begin to prickle, even though she could see no danger. The door to the chapel was closed, but she decided not to knock. This was, after all, a house of God, and she could say she was stopping to meditate if she was chastised. She turned the knob and walked in. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she saw a figure rising from the floor behind the altar. The Reverend Isaiah looked confused.
“I’ve told you never to interrupt my prayer time,” he snapped. Deidre noticed he was rubbing his eyes as though he had just been awakened. When he stood, he wobbled on his feet, and Deidre saw that his eyes were bloodshot. She stepped forward, and as she drew near the man she could smell alcohol on him. He reeked of it.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “And who are you that you think you can barge into God’s house without being invited?”
Deidre looked at him with disgust. While the women and children sweated as they tended the gardens, the good reverend was in here, soaking up booze and sleeping it off. “I thought everyone was invited to the house of God,” she answered, calling on what little church background she had.
“Well,” he stammered. “I suppose. But this is a special place for my followers. Why don’t you search out another church in town?” He scowled at her.
“Tell
you what, Reverend. Answer a few questions for me, and I’ll leave. I won’t even tell those poor women out there that their spiritual head is a drunk and a hypocrite. Okay?” The reverend didn’t move, but he didn’t say no. Deidre took out her notepad and a pen. “Where were you last Saturday night?”
“I was here, with the group.”
“And they’ll attest to that?” Deidre knew it would be no use asking them. They would say whatever they were told to say.
“Of course they’ll vouch for me,” the eagle-nosed old man said indignantly.
“Well, how about the men in your group? Where were they last Saturday night? Here? Or were they in town?”
The reverend snorted. “They don’t leave this place of sanctuary. The world out there is evil, and none of them wants to be tainted by the sin that is everywhere. Our mission here is to remain pure until the great return. The righteous will inherit the earth for a thousand years after Christ’s appearance, and we are going to be among the one hundred forty-four thousand, the chosen few.” The old man paced the floor as if he were fighting an inward battle. “Look at me. I’m the one who goes to town, who picks up the staples we need, who tries to warn the people of what is to come. Look at me! I’m the one who has allowed myself to be exposed to the demons of the world, and they have grabbed me.” As he talked, he became more agitated. “There is no hope for me. I am like Christ, sacrificing myself for the good of many. No, I am the only one who ever leaves this colony of holiness.” Reverend Isaiah sat down in a pew and covered his face with his hands. “Please, leave us alone now.”
Deidre walked back to her car, which was parked near one of the gardens. She nonchalantly wandered to where one of the young women was hoeing a row of string beans. As she came closer she could see that the gardener was actually a girl, hardly fifteen, Deidre guessed. The girl kept her head down and continued to chop at the earth with the hoe.
“Hi,” Deidre said. The girl continued to toil without responding. “Can you stop to talk with me a minute?”
“No,” was the one word answer, but as she moved past Deidre, a piece of paper that was folded into a wad dropped from her pocket. The girl moved on, ignoring the paper. It was obvious to Deidre that the girl knew she had dropped it, but made no effort to retrieve whatever it was. Deidre palmed it and walked to her car.
She drove out to the highway from the secluded enclave before she stopped and unfolded the paper. Scribbled in crooked handwriting were two words: Help Us.
Chapter Eleven
As she drove back to town, Deidre knew in her heart that the reverend fervently believed what he had said. That made her wonder all the more if he might have been capable of killing someone for his beliefs. But then she thought of the severe beating delivered to the dead boy. The reverend was old and frail. No way he could have inflicted that much damage to the victim. But he was filled with an irrational hate for what he believed to be sin.
Now she had a new quandary: what to do about the message. Help who? And help them from what? She shook her head and, deep in thought, drove the two-lane road back to Two Harbors. She decided her only course of action was to take the note to the county sheriff, Jeff DeAngelo.
It was noon when she arrived at the law enforcement center, and she hoped to find Jeff at his desk and that he hadn’t left for lunch. As she was climbing the stairs to the second floor, she met him coming down.
“Hey, there’s my favorite PI. Do you still go by Deidre, or should I call you Harry?” He was referring to a mystery series he knew Deidre had read, where the PI was named Harry.
“Watch it, Sheriff,” she joked, “Or I just might have to punch you out.” She playfully jabbed his arm. “Are you heading for lunch, or are you on the clock?”
“You know better than that. Seems like I’m always on the clock, but I am going down to Louise’s for a sandwich. Want to join me?” They walked together the two blocks to the coffee shop.
After ordering, they poured themselves cups of coffee and found a table. Deidre looked around to make sure no one was close by, and then she leaned closer to Jeff.
“I might have something that should be looked into. I’m not sure, though.” Before she could continue, the waitress brought their sandwiches and asked if they needed anything else. They shook their heads. Deidre continued after the girl left. “I think you’re familiar with Reverend Isaiah.”
Jeff interrupted. “Now what’d he do? I get at least one complaint a week from somebody he has harassed with his religious badgering. Has he been bothering you?”
Deidre half laughed. “No, nothing like that. This morning, I visited his commune, or sanctuary, whatever you call it. I wanted to talk to him about a case I’m investigating for T.J. Compton.”
“That would be the Jimmy O’Brian case?”
Deidre was momentarily stopped by Jeff’s question. “Well, yeah. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I didn’t feel comfortable at all when I was there. Felt like I was being spied on, and I couldn’t get anyone to talk to me, except the rev. I don’t know how many people are in his group, but I think there are quite a few more than when he came to Toimi. Anyway, several women and girls were working in the gardens when I got there. I was inside the chapel talking to Reverend Isaiah for about half an hour, and when I came out, I wandered over to one of the gardens and came close to a girl, quite a young girl, maybe fifteen.
“When I asked if she could talk to me, she said, ‘No,’ and kept hoeing a row of beans, but as she passed me, this dropped from her pocket.” Deidre took the folded paper from her own pocket and began to open it. “I think she knew she dropped it, but she made no effort to pick it up, so I did. When I got to my car, I drove out to the main road before I opened it. Look at this.” She spread the note out so Jeff could read it.
His brow furrowed as he studied the words, and he didn’t speak for several minutes. It would have taken him only seconds to read the message, but he continued to stare at the paper. Finally, he exhaled.
“Something up there isn’t right, and this raises the warning flag even higher.” Jeff went on to share some information with Deidre.
“You know Johnny Bolene, don’t you?” Deidre nodded. “He came to my office about three weeks ago. Said he wanted to talk to me about a hitchhiker he had picked up. Johnny’s quite a trout fisherman and said he was heading up to Breda Creek for the evening and stopped to give the guy a ride. When he asked where he was going the guy said, ‘Toimi’, and Johnny told him to hop in. To make a long story short, the guy said his name was Jeremiah Rude. As soon as he climbed into Johnny’s pickup cab he started talking goofy religious stuff, told Johnny that people called him The Prophet. Then he went on to say that he had a prophesy for Two Harbors. Johnny said the guy freaked him out with what he was saying. Rude told him that God looked at Two Harbors as a modern Sodom and Gomorrah, and that God was going to destroy the town because it’s a sinful place.”
Deidre didn’t say anything to interrupt Jeff, and he continued with Johnny’s story. “The guy recited a litany of our offenses against God. We drink too much. We don’t worship enough. We show no evidence that the Holy Spirit resides in us. I really don’t know what he meant by that, but he didn’t mince words when he said only God’s select would survive to the end. That kind of talk is unnerving to me, but then he began to single out groups who he said were an abomination and had to be cut out like a cancer.
“At the top of his list were homosexuals. He said there was a special place in hell for them. But what troubled me most was his accusation of Lutherans. He told Johnny that they had deeply offended God by welcoming, to use his words, ‘the blighted’ into their congregations. Rude cited the recent vote taken by the Lutheran Church accepting gay clergy. Most troubling was his claim that God would use whatever tool he needed to cleanse the earth of those who were born of Satan. By that time, Joh
nny was at Four Corners and told Rude he’d taken him as far as he could. When Rude got out, he asked how far down the road it was to Reverend Isaiah’s Sanctuary. Johnny told me the guy freaked him out.”
Deidre had listened quietly to Jeff’s monologue, but thoughts had been rummaging around in her head the whole time. “That news freaks me out, too. But what do you make of this note?”
Jeff thrummed the table with his fingers. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I don’t like it at all. Just last summer, a religious compound was raided near Moose Lake. They found a dozen girls being literally held captive and used as sex slaves by the cult leader. I sure as hell hope this isn’t what we have going on here, but this is pretty suspicious. I’ll get on it right away. Thanks for bringing it in.”
Luckily, they had ordered cold sandwiches, because neither of them had taken a bite. Now they dug into the food, hardly exchanging a word. Deidre broke the silence. “Would you have any objection to my speaking with Johnny about this “Prophet”? I think he has information T.J. can use in his defense of Jimmy.”
Jeff took the last bite of his sandwich. “Go for it.”
Chapter Twelve
Deidre knew where Johnny Bolene lived, and she hoped the retired ore dock worker wasn’t out fishing. She figured the day was too bright and sunny for him to be plying the trout streams, but he was such a fishing fanatic, he might be out scouting a new stretch of water. She rang the doorbell, but no one answered, even though she waited a good three minutes. Following a hunch and a hope, she walked around to the back of the house and spotted movement in his garden. Since the death of his wife, Johnny spent most of his time either fishing or gardening. Today it was gardening.
“Hey, Johnny,” Deidre shouted out. “How ya doin’?” Johnny stood up and shielded his eyes against the noon sun.
Preying in Two Harbors Page 6