The woman turned to Luna and frowned. “Are you not supposed to be handling laundry this morning?” she inquired huffily as she continued to peel.
“Yes. I uh, had a little accident.” Luna lifted her hand to show her raw, blistered fingers.
“Come with me,” the woman grumbled as she dropped her half-peeled potato into the bowl of water.
Luna followed Josephine to the pantry, where she did precisely what Tabitha said she would. She poured the bitter smelling vinegar on Luna’s hand to take the heat out then opened the back door, bent down and pinched off a piece of Aloe Vera straight from the plant. She peeled back the outside, exposing a gooey substance that to Luna strangely smelled like roast beef. She didn’t complain as Mama Josephine rubbed the goo directly onto her wounded fingers then bandaged them up with scraps of material.
“Use this.” Josephine pulled a plastic baggie from the drawer and handed it to Luna.
Luna took it but stared at Mama Josephine, unsure what she wanted her to do with it.
“Oh, for goodness sakes, child. Put it on your hand,” she said as if Luna was the dumbest person on the face of the earth.
Still unsure why, Luna drew the bag over her hand.
Mama Josephine pulled a roll of plastic tape from the shelf and closed the bag around Luna’s wrist tightly. “There. That will keep the water out. You may go back to work now,” she said dismissively.
“Thank you, Mama Josephine,” Luna said as the heat in her hand cooled considerably.
“You are welcome,” Mama Josephine answered kindly for the first time since Luna had been there.
Luna smiled to herself and headed back out. Even the Wicked Witch of the West could show a bit of compassion.
Chapter 22 - Chief Collins
Erika had been searching the criminal database for hours when her phone rang. An unknown number. She answered.
“Hey, Mom.” It was her daughter, Desiree.
“Desi. How are you? How’s the academy?”
“It’s great. I’m learning so much. I just can’t believe how much training goes into being a police officer.”
Desiree had thought her mother was exaggerating when she said it would be a challenge for her. Erika smiled. It was the little things that made her happy. But she wouldn’t dare say I told you so.
“That’s great, honey. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Mom?” A slight tremble sounded in her daughter’s voice.
“What’s wrong, honey? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just that . . . I miss you.” Desi sniffled.
“Oh, baby. I know. I miss you too.”
“And . . . I just want to tell you what a great mom you are . . . And I am . . . I’m so sorry for all I put you through.”
Erika’s heart swelled. She’d waited a long time to hear those words and somehow, it made it all worth it. Her baby had finally grown up.
“Hey, baby. Don’t you worry about that. You will always be my sweet girl. Always.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Desiree’s voice trembled. “I gotta go. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweet baby. I’ll be there for your graduation. Call me next time you get a chance.”
Erika hung up and stared out the window. She swiped at the tears that formed in her eyes. She was so proud of how far her daughter had come. The wayward girl she’d pulled out of Phoenix who’d been failing school, hanging out with the wrong crowd, and living on the edge of destruction had made it to adulthood. And was now following in her mother’s footsteps.
Now if she could just figure out where that teenage girl had gone to. She’d told Linda the case was closed, but she wouldn’t stop looking for Luna every chance she got.
There were no Amish communities in the area, but her research had turned up a religious compound of some sort just thirty miles west of Phoenix. There wasn’t much known about the place. From all accounts, they were a peaceful bunch and stuck to themselves. Still, they were the only ones that could possibly match the description. There was only one way to find out.
Her phone rang. She lifted it from her desk and checked the screen. It was Rick. His day off.
“Hey, handsome. Up for a ride?”
“Anything for you, my sweets. Whatcha thinking?”
“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS the right direction?” Rick asked.
They’d been driving for over thirty miles in nothing but desert.
“Yep. Well, there’s no physical address, but this is the right way.”
“How do you know we haven’t passed it?”
“Well if we did, we’ll just keep going until we reach Disneyland.”
“Right on.” Rick laughed. “I’ve been wanting to see Mickey.”
“Hey, what’s that? Up there?” Erika pointed to a group of buildings surrounded by an overly tall chain-link fence. “You think that’s it?”
“Could be.” Rick slowed the car. “But how do we get in?”
“Up there, maybe? Looks like it could be a gate” Erika pointed to the dirt path that looked well-worn from years of use.
Rick slowed to turn onto the dirt road that led straight up to a gate. Erika couldn’t get a good view of it, but it looked as though there was a guard shack.
“Wait.” She touched his arm. “Don’t turn in yet. Let’s drive around and see if we can get a look from out here.”
Rick complied. “How big you think this place is? Looks pretty large.”
He was right. It seemed to go on forever. As they drove around the perimeter of the fence, they searched for any signs of life.
“They live off the land.” Rick pointed to the fields of crops that surrounded the houses.
“But where is everyone?” Besides the pastures full of goats and cows, a smattering of chicken coops and a few stray cats the place looked like a ghost town.
Rick glanced at the clock on the dash. “It's midday. No one in their right mind is out this time of day.”
The thermometer on the dash read one hundred seventeen degrees. No one was out in those scorching temperatures. If it weren’t for air conditioning, she’d be inside herself. As she looked out over the expanse of desert, a movement caught her attention.
“Wait. Over there. Look.” She pointed. “Is that a man?”
Sure enough, it was. And it was an older man who looked exactly as the witness described. All the way from his long beard to the suspenders that held up his faded blue jeans. And the ten-ton straw hat, just like Candace had described.
“Well, of all the . . . look at that. I had no idea there were Amish in the area.” Rick slowed down to get a better look.
“They’re not Amish. The best I can find on them is that they are an off-shoot of Christianity. Even that was vague.”
“Huh.” Rick stared out the window as the old man walked by, refusing to acknowledge their existence.
“Should I honk at him?” Rick grinned playfully.
“Stop that.” She swatted his arm. “You’ll give the guy a heart attack.”
One thing was for sure, the man was fascinating. Erika couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him until he walked out of view.
“You think it’s him?” she whispered conspiratorially.
Rick gave her one of his well-practiced, cocky grins. “A place this size must hold a good couple thousand people. And you think the first guy you see is going to be our suspect?”
She slapped at him again. “Well. Could be. He fits the description.”
“Yeah, I bet. As well as every other man here over the age of forty,” he said and then as if to prove his point. “Look.” He tossed his finger out in the direction of a large building. “There are two more suspects. Look just like the first one.”
“Maybe they’re clones.” Erika gave him a furtive wink. “Okay, okay. I get your point. So, what do we do now?”
“Well, we can’t very well drive up in a police vehicle and ask those guards if we can come in and have a look around. At least not without a warrant.
”
Rick was right. There was nothing they could do without some kind of evidence that Luna was in there. He made a U-turn and headed back to civilization.
“Wanna get a bite to eat?” Rick asked.
“Yes. I’m famished.”
Chapter 23 - Rachel
Rachel couldn’t seem to get used to the living conditions of her new, albeit, temporary home. Shelly hadn’t said she would make her leave, but she hadn’t told her how long she could stay either.
To Rachel, everything seemed to be so strangely easy. Whatever she needed was contained right there within Shelly’s home. With the indoor outhouse, electricity, and air conditioning, she felt so lazy, useless. Her normal routine of sewing blankets all day and then going home to help clean, iron, cook, and help take care of the younglings took her from early morning to dusk. Only then did she have time to relax. But now she felt as though she was out of place.
Lenny came sauntering into the room. He was Shelly’s five-year-old son, and he was charming. He had short brown hair that hung in his chocolate brown eyes, that he was continually whisking away. He reminded her of her own little brothers. Especially Elijah. Just looking at him made her miss her home, her siblings, Jacob.
“Wanna watch cartoons?” he asked as he grabbed a small rectangular contraption from the coffee table. She’d looked at that thing several times and was tempted to push one of the many buttons on it, but each time she changed her mind. She had no idea what it was or what it would do if she touched it.
And talking to Lenny was strange. It was like he spoke a different language. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
Lenny pushed a button on the device, and she closed her eyes, waiting for something to happen. Strange sounds made her open them and look as the screen lit up.
“My mom says I talk too much,” Lenny said.
Rachel stared at the screen in awe as voices blurted out from within and animated characters danced around the screen. Her body trembled at the sight of the colorful objects that came from the box in front of her.
What in the world?
She turned to the boy but could not manage the proper use of her vocal cords.
“Lenny, turn that off.” Shelly entered the room. “You’re gonna scare the girl half to death. Besides, you should be getting ready for church.”
Lenny groaned and hit a button on the gadget in his hand. The screen went blank again, and the room returned to silence.
“Now, go. I want you to wear the outfit I placed on the bed for you.”
“Aw, Mom. Why can’t I pick out my own clothes?”
“You know why,” she said but proceeded to tell him anyway. “The last time I let you pick out your own clothes, you came down wearing holey jeans and a dirty, smelly t-shirt you pulled out of your dirty clothes basket.”
“It was—”
“Leonard Thomas Johnson, go!” Shelly pointed to the hallway that led to the boy’s room.
Rachel watched in awe as the boy stomped off in a huff. She’d never heard a youngling speak that way to an adult. The fear of a visit to the shed kept them on their best behavior.
“Kids.” Shelly shook her head. “He’d wear the same outfit every day if I let him.”
Rachel gave an awkward smile. She’d only owned two dresses at one time in her entire life. Those were alternated daily. And when she grew out of them, they were passed down to a younger sibling. Nothing with The Chosen was wasted.
She’d gotten a look at Lenny’s room. The boy had more clothes than any one child could ever wear. And play items . . . She’d never seen such things. Miniature vehicles of all shapes and sizes, colorful building sets, books, and items she couldn’t put a name to. Was that what she wanted for her child?
Everything she’d sought in life was now terrifying. All her life she’d wanted something more. She’d dreamed of being free to make her own choices. Of being unrestricted. She’d wanted her life to have meaning. To learn and be treated as an equal. But she’d never imagined just how frightening freedom could be. Living among the English was nothing as she thought.
“Come on, honey,” Shelly said, breaking her from her reverie. “I have a dress I think will fit you.”
Rachel looked up. Her own dress had been washed in the high-tech metal box Shelly had called a washing machine and then dried in the container next to it. Why they needed such a thing when the sun could have them dried in much less time, was beyond her. In any case, she’d only worn it one day and hadn’t done a single chore since she’d gotten there. She saw no reason why she couldn’t wear it another day.
“Well,” Shelly said as if delving into her mind and reading her insecurities. “It is getting a bit tight on you, and I think it would be more comfortable for you if you wore . . . I have some maternity clothes I never got rid of after Lenny. I kept them thinking one day I would... Anyway, there’s a whole stack of them just sitting in my closet going to waste.”
Rachel shrugged. If she was going to be English, there was no time like the present. “All right.” Her dress was getting a bit uncomfortable on her.
She followed Shelly into the bedroom where the woman pulled out a huge bag filled to the brim with clothing. “I think this should do it. There are all sizes.” She pulled out a smaller dress. “I started in this size, but before I knew it, I had to buy bigger so these will grow with you as your baby grows.” She pulled out a pair of pants and stretched the top. “See. Elastic.”
“Oh.” Rachel’s face hung in shame. There was no way she could wear a pair of pants. The Bible said . . . You are no longer Chosen. A voice that sounded much like her own spoke inside her head. “Yes. Thank you.”
Rachel struggled with something deeper though than the items before her. She wanted to know what Shelly was hiding from her. What had happened? Who had she gone to visit that day she found Rachel on the street?
But she was a girl. She was not to speak on matters that did not concern her. As she stood staring at the bag of clothes, Shelly glanced at her in concern.
“Is something wrong? I mean, if you don’t want to wear these, it’s okay. I don’t want to force you to do anything—”
“No. It is not that. It is just . . . never mind. It is rude of me to ask.”
“Go ahead, Rachel. You can ask me anything.” Shelly patted the bed next to her, and Rachel sat.
“It is just that, well, I know it was not right but when you and your friend were speaking, I overheard some things.” She regretted her words as soon as she spoke them. It was none of her business.
“What is it? What did you hear?” Shelly asked.
“Who were you coming back from visiting when you found me?” There it was said. If Shelly didn’t want to answer her, she could just say so.
“Oh, my. That is a story.” Shelly’s smile was grim. “His name is Shawn. He’s my . . . He was my husband. I divorced him.”
“What does that mean? He is no longer your husband?” Rachel was confused.
“No, he's not. Shawn was an evil man. He killed many girls and did bad things to them.”
“You married a killer?” Rachel stared at Shelly, uncomprehending.
“I didn’t know he was a killer. Not until he kidnapped a local girl and left her to die in an abandoned underground shelter.”
Rachel stared in stunned silence. She’d never known anyone who had killed another person.
“Murder is a sin,” she whispered.
“Yes, Rachel, you're right. Shawn turned out to not be such a good guy. He’s in prison now, and well, that day, I just wanted to confront him. Ask him why he would hurt those young girls. Why he hurt his son and me.”
“Did he say why he would do such a thing?” Rachel still could not comprehend how a person could take the life of another. Then, as the blood drained from her face, she felt faint. The Chosen were murderers. They fully intended to kill her. They were no better than Shelly’s husband.
&nbs
p; “Why did you come my way? I prayed and asked God to help me, and then you came. Not one car came before you.”
Shelly fidgeted with her hands for a while before answering. Then she placed her hand on Rachel’s leg and spoke. “I believe God sent me to find you. I don’t understand it, but I had an uncontrollable urge to get off the freeway at that particular exit. I don’t know why, but I believe God was involved.”
“But God―” Rachel stopped.
Shelly would not understand. She was not chosen. She was an outsider. She believed God had sent her there, but Rachel wasn’t so sure. God had forsaken her. Hadn’t He? But He was omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. He was aware of all things at all times. He knew she was out there. Why didn’t He just allow her to die in the desert? Why had He sent Shelly to rescue her? Had He sent Shelly to find her?
“Rachel?” Shelly asked.
Rachel looked up at her, trying to shake off her confusion. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
Before she could answer, Lenny came storming into the room. “Come on, Mom. We’re going to be late.”
Shelly jumped up. “You’re right. Rachel, go ahead into the bathroom and try this one on.” Shelly held out the dress to her. “I know it’s wrinkled, but I’ll show you a dryer trick to get those out in a hurry.”
Rachel took the dress and went into the adjoining bathroom where she shed her own familiar dress and let it drop to the floor. She put on the new one.
Wrinkles were the least of her worries. The dress, although much less confining on her growing stomach, was much too revealing. The sleeves were short, and the bottom barely went past her knees.
Where is the rest of the dress?
As she glanced in the mirror, she was shocked at the girl who stared back. It was as if she was looking at a complete stranger.
She pulled the pins from her tightly wrapped bun and let her hair fall down around her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it to smooth out the knots. She couldn’t tear herself away from the reflection in the mirror. She was . . . English.
God forgive me.
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