I notice the hut closest to the building open, and then Elijah. He looks straight ahead and sees me. The most genuine smile breaks across his face. He rushes up to me.
"Hey! You came." He removes a key from around his neck, unlocks the gate, and swings it open. "I wasn't sure if you would. Most people aren't willing to open their minds to see the way we see the world."
I step inside and he locks it again as I gaze around the community. "Doesn't this seem a bit cultlike to you?"
He chuckles and lifts his chin toward the temple as we begin to walk. "No. I understand why people might think that because we all live together and we have different views than mainstream religions, but we're not a cult. Cult is a confusing term all on its own. What separates mainstream beliefs from cults? It's the fact they're not mainstream and they have different beliefs. So, really, every religion and sect within a religion was a cult at some point—at least by that definition they were. But here, people can leave whenever they like, they can do whatever they like, but…people find peace in our beliefs because they're true. The truth has truly set them free."
"I don't know. I think lies are effective at protecting people," I say. He laughs again. It's a cute laugh—carefree enough to be childlike, but deep enough to be masculine.
"Sometimes when we protect ourselves, it's also building up walls. If you smash down those walls, you may be a bit unprotected, but you also leave yourself open to the truth and you're able to experience how the world truly is."
I gaze up at him. I've never met anyone who spoke so eloquently, much less someone who was religious. We walk through the doors of the temple and I'm surprised to see there aren't any decorations. There's just the wooden pews and a raised platform at the front. The sun shines through the glass windows, lighting up the whole building without artificial lights. The three women I saw before are praying in the last pew on the right, and a man is praying in the first pew on the left.
Elijah places his hand on the back of my elbow—I feel warmth tingle where he touches—and leads me toward the man. The man has short white hair, which seems plastered to his head, and a curly beard that reaches just to the bottom of his neck. It may be blasphemous, but he reminds me of Charles Darwin.
Elijah puts his index finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet. I would normally be insulted by this—especially since I wasn't speaking—but there does seem to be a need for quiet in this place.
The man leans back a bit and unclasps his hands, pressing one against where his heart is, and opens his eyes. His hands retreat to his lap and he turns to look at Elijah.
"Yes?" he asks in a voice soft.
"Father," Elijah whispers. "This is Sarah. The one I told you about from the Church of Christ."
The man—Elijah's father—turns to me. "How long did you attend that Church of Christ?"
"Uh, I didn't, really," I say, trying to keep my voice as soft as theirs. "I was there for a funeral. I've never really been too religious."
He nods. "A blank slate is a good place to start. Many people read the Bible and take all the wrong messages from it to suit their own agenda. The Old Testament is the history of our relationship with God, and the New Testament is our direction in life. However, certain books of the Old and New Testaments are meant to be referred to at certain times. The book of Psalms is used in times when you need to strengthen your relationship with God. You read the Song of Songs to strengthen your relationship with your soul mate. And Revelation is used now…as the future is quickly becoming the present."
"Isn't Revelation about the end of the world?"
"Sarah, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true." Elijah rests his hand on my shoulder. "I hate to jerk you into this, but it's less than a week away."
"What's less than a week away?"
"The Blood Moon. 'And I will show wonders in the heavens and on the earth, blood and fire and columns of smoke. The sun shall be turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes.' Joel, chapter two, verses thirty to thirty-one. Scientists say the Blood Moon won't be very visible from Alaska, but the actual moon won't be the important part. That's just God's sign that Jesus is returning."
I stare at him. "So…you think the all-powerful God of the universe forewarned you for when the end of the world was coming?"
He smiles. I do love that smile. "I know it sounds crazy, but my Father has been studying this for decades and we've already seen signs. Daniel, chapter twelve, verse four, says knowledge will increase right before the end of the world, and we're at an explosion of knowledge right now. Matthew, chapter twenty-four, verse seven to eight, said there would be diseases, famine, and earthquakes all over the place. Have you seen the news lately? It's everywhere. Society's morality is decaying. God must come and save whom He can because the disbelief in him is ever increasing. This is His chance to save who He can."
I stare at him, trying not to look as skeptical as I feel. "And you're just going to wait until the end of the world? Which is apparently less than a week away?"
"No." His father stands up. "There is work to be done as there always is. The book of Revelation speaks of Four Horsemen that begin the Apocalypse. Since they all represent evil, they must all be defeated. The Lord said in the First Epistle to the Corinthians in chapter fifteen that all those things that conquer us must be destroyed and that God cannot take over for Jesus until all of Jesus's enemies are gone. As it says, 'The last enemy to be destroyed is death.' The last Horseman is Death. They must be taken care of in order for God's plan to come into fruition."
I can't erase the doubt on my face, but Elijah's father only seems amused. I'm picking at my cuticles, trying to find something to say, when he takes my hands into his and holds them tightly.
"Sarah, I know you. God knows you. I can feel your pain you try so hard to keep locked away. You want to pretend you can take on the world, but you don't need to because God will carry the weight for you. You don't need to hide and you don't need to block yourself off from faith. I told Elijah a few days ago that someone new would come to us with yearning in their heart and a fractured point of view on the world." He turns to Elijah. "Do you remember what I told you about this person?"
"You said she would have committed unspeakable sins and she would have the color hair of someone pure who washed the dirty feet of Jesus. You said the closest description would be dirty-blond hair."
I feel my face flush. He couldn't possibly have predicted me meeting Elijah could he? But I already my walls start to crumble, which I didn't think was possible after I was kidnapped.
"It's okay, Sarah." Elijah's father wraps me in his arms, holding me. "We knew you were coming and we love you. You were meant to come here. I'm not sure why, but you have a purpose only you can fulfill. We are so glad to have you here."
His words wash over me, spreading warmth through my whole body. As he steps back, I feel this rush of guilt for thinking they were all crazy. Granted, I don't quite believe this whole Apocalypse idea, but they truly believe it and I shouldn't think less of them.
Elijah's father sits down and pats the cushion beside him. I join him.
"Let me tell you how the Alpha and Omega Temple began. Maybe that will help you to see why we believe what we believe and that we're not just some crazy people, desperate for our Lord to return," he says. "I grew up in Georgia. My family originally went to a Baptist church. When I was thirteen and beginning to wander away from God as teenagers tend to do, I had this experience, which changed everything for me. I was hanging out with some friends at this park all the teens hung out in. We weren't supposed to be there…we had all told our parents we were hanging out at one of the other kid's house. But, anyway, we were in the park and we met this guy named Chris. He was really cool—sixteen years old—and we all wanted to impress him. We continued to hang out with him, he got us into smoking pot, and a few of us tried ecstasy. It was great—or, so we thought. I spent two years of my life like this. Then, one day, I go to Chris's
house. I never really went to his house before…we'd meet in front of it, but never inside. This time I did because I hadn't seen him in a few days. Anyway, he didn't answer the door, so I walked inside. Once I found his room, there was all this satanic propaganda—masks of Satan, upside-down crosses, the sigil of Baphomet…and Chris was dead on the carpet. There was dried blood coming out of his nostrils and around him was a circular burn mark. I didn't think much of it until a cloud must have moved away, the sun rays came through the window and hit me straight in the chest. I felt overwhelmingly sick and I just had this sense of Jesus's presence. I could feel His love and devotion for me like you can't imagine. It made me feel so unworthy because I had wandered away from Him, but I also knew He would accept me with open arms all over again. Because he loved me that much. After that, I cut ties with all of my old friends, I started going to a church that wasn't affiliated to any sect, and I found my life improving in every aspect. Jesus saved me, both spiritually and physically, because some of my friends died from drug overdoses. When I was thirty-four years old—and Elijah was four—I began this temple because other sects refused to understand the Bible as it was meant to be understood. They only took the parts they liked, and they ran with it. Almost none of them even looked at Revelation because they were afraid of what it meant. But it's not a time of fear. It's a time to rise and meet our Lord."
"So, if you think the end of the world is coming, why aren't you trying to warn people?"
"We have tried," he says. "Though, we've quickly found that's ineffective because people will just dismiss you as crazy, as I'm sure you have similar thoughts now. We did have a high-ranking politician who was helping to spread our knowledge, but LaPonte turned his back on us when he realized he was losing votes by standing up for the truth. I suppose in this society—"
"Wait, Representative Walter LaPonte?"
He nods. "Yes. But I believe it was in God's plan for him to turn his back on us. I believe his abandonment made me realize that he is the White Horseman of the Apocalypse. 'I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.' Revelation, chapter six, verse two. He drives a white sedan, his political status gives him similar powers to a prince with a crown, and he is obsessed with winning the state of Alaska's favor—a kind of conquest. He promised me he would do good things for the Temple and create a good, Christian Alaska, but he gave up those views in order to obtain favor from the general public. That man is a kind of antichrist and God wanted me to see that he would only spread libel about Him and his Son. As the Good Book says, you cannot devote yourself to two things at once—you either give it all to God or none of it to God."
"And you want to kill Walter LaPonte."
"It is necessary to kill the White Horseman otherwise his desire for conquest will end up leading more people away from Christ."
"Well, I don't think that's going to be easy. He's running for governor and the police and the FBI have been keeping an eye on him since Junior and Brianna Cull were killed."
"That doesn't matter," Elijah says. My head turns to him. "The White Horseman can't be allowed to live long enough to conquer with his false prophecy. We need to eliminate him before he gets too far along on his campaign trail."
I stare at him, his mismatched eyes glowing with such intensity I almost believe what he's telling me. This must be why I'm attracted to him. He's just as crazy as I am. In fact, both times I've been with him, none of the ghosts that have haunted my mind appear, which I suppose is because my mind isn't so lonely with someone like Elijah around.
"Well, the police can't always be around him," I say. "Let's figure this out."
The smile that bursts on his face is worth every murder I've committed that led me to him.
Chapter Four
Aaron (Saturday afternoon)
I stare up at LaPonte's office as I sit inside my police car. We're all supposed to be watching him in case whoever killed Junior and Brianna returns to kill him—Brianna's murder seemed to be a reenactment of LaPonte's sister, Zoë's murder. I have another officer keeping an eye on Brianna's parents, as well, since Junior was Brianna's uncle, but I have a gut feeling the killer has nothing to do with them.
I'm not happy to be here doing a regular officer's job, but there's not much happening in Wyatt other than the continued investigation of Brianna Cull's murder, which has been investigated in every possible way, and Junior's murder, which I'm not allowed to be part of because the FBI took over it and I'm a suspect.
Life's a bitch and she keeps giving birth to more bitches.
As I glance away from the steel building where LaPonte's Representative of Alaska office is located, I notice a dark SUV down the road. I'm sure I saw it earlier across the street from my house. I suspect it has FBI agents in it, keeping an eye on me.
I pick up my phone, intending to call Teresa to ask her if I'm being followed now, but set it back down on the passenger seat. Teresa has been avoiding me for the last few days. I think it's because she told me I'm a suspect in Junior's murder, and now she feels the need to devote herself more to her job since she was disloyal.
Or maybe she figures it's best to distance herself from a murder suspect.
Maybe this is a sign—from God or whoever—that we're not right for each other. It seems like every time we get close, something comes barreling in between us, knocking both of us off our feet. We met because of Sarah Latham's kidnapping then as we grew closer, I wanted to go further than she wanted, and now I'm a murder suspect. How are we supposed to get close to each other? She can't tell me about her job and she seems significantly less committed to our relationship than I am. Which is fine, of course, but if she always wants to linger instead of stay inside our relationship, than I need to know because I'm not interested in lingering. I want to dive right in with somebody and not be afraid she'll suddenly swim away from me.
I see a glint of light and realize it's the sun hitting against the opened door of LaPonte's office. LaPonte jogs down the stairs toward his car. He waves at me, changing his direction to walk toward me. I lower my car window.
"Hey," he says. "I'm just going to meet a friend in Anchorage to go over political strategy. It'll be crowded and everything, so if you want to go grab lunch or whatever, you should go do it. I promise I won't get killed before the next officer comes around."
"Are you sure?" I ask, though I really would prefer to be doing anything other than watch over him.
"Yeah. It'll be fine. It's Anchorage."
"You realize Anchorage has been named as one of the more dangerous cities in the United States, right?"
He waves away my concern. "Only in certain parts and not in the area I'm going. Chief Grant, it's fine. Go. You look like you could even use a nap. I'll call the police station when I'm driving back to Wyatt."
I nod. "Fine. Just be careful and if you have the slightest feeling something is wrong, get to a police station."
"Absolutely." He steps back from my car and goes back toward his white sedan.
I start my car. It's a good time to check Nick's grave. There are so many things I need to say, but the only thing I want to say is something that wouldn't be true—we found your murderer and justice has been served.
Chapter Five
Teresa (Saturday afternoon)
There's a point, I assume, in everybody's work day where your mind wanders because it's so completely bored with repetition. I stare at my laptop, contemplating whether I should have my usual healthy salad lunch or order some pizza and chicken wings. Healthy or happy: the constant struggle.
"Agent Daniels," a female voice calls me. I turn to see Rhoda Chen, my supervisor. She's in her late fifties or early sixties, but it's hard to tell by looking at her. Her hair is mostly pitch-black with a few strands of gray, her face is nearly smooth with the exception of faint crow's feet on the edges of her eyes, and quite physically fit. I know she's a black belt in judo, so that could exp
lain it. "Can I see you in my office for a quick second?"
"Sure," I say, though I know it won't actually be a quick second because no meeting with a supervisor ever lasts less than twenty minutes. I follow her toward her office, praying she won't want to talk about her suspicions of Aaron again. She closes the door behind us.
"What do you know about the Carmody crime family?" she asks.
My eyebrows shoot up. "Uh, the Carmody family? Um, just the same knowledge the public has. They're a family-run criminal organization. They sell drugs within Anchorage, though they seem to be branching out into other parts of Alaska. There's some allegations of human trafficking, racketeering, counterfeiting, extortion, loan sharking, money laundering, and way too many murders. They're the big bad guys of Alaska who seem to be able to evade the law at every turn. Every time law enforcement thinks they have one who's guaranteed to go to prison, somehow he wiggles out of it."
"Right." She nods. "So, you know we need to do whatever it takes to get them off the street, right? At least if we get the main family off the street, the rest of the group should fall into chaos without them. You know how it goes—they're all vying for power and they end up killing each other, which is nasty, but it's better than killing innocent people."
"Of course," I say. "Did something new happen in the family? Is one of them ill?"
"Well, technically, the mother of the family—Martha Carmody—has lung cancer and the doctors have given her three to four months left. As I'm sure you know, Martha has three sons, none of which are married. Martha's brother-in-law, Daniel Carmody, was caught a few days ago trying to solicit a minor. He didn't want to go anywhere near a jail with that indictment, so he told us some information in a desperate attempt to get out of doing time."
"Did you cut him a deal?"
"Of course not," she says with a scowl. "I wouldn't cut any child molester a deal. I'd push him into the jail myself and tell all the inmates what he wanted to do if I wouldn't lose my job over it."
Blood Moon: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (A Grant & Daniels Detective Kidnapping Series Book 3) Page 2