Into the Light (13 page)

She stood and continued, “With as cold as it’s been, whether we’re at evening prayer or our jobs, most women of The Light wear jeans and warm boots. Truthfully, modesty is dictated by Father Gabriel, but the particulars are up to our husbands. You wore jeans and warm boots before. I don’t know why that would change.”

I nodded.
Of course it is up to him. Everything seems to be up to my husband.

“Sara, it’s still early in the afternoon. Service isn’t until seven. I’ll speak with Luke about assisting you, and he’ll talk to Jacob.”

Suddenly the memory of what Sister Lilith had said about the Assembly wives came back. “Elizabeth?”

“What?”

“Are you appalled by me?”

“What? No!”

“Do the other wives of the Assembly hate me?”

“Of course not. Father Gabriel doesn’t preach hate.” She wrapped her arms around me and hugged. “We’re all sisters.”

I smiled a sad smile. “Thank you.”

“As long as Luke approves, I won’t leave your side. Who knows? Maybe you’ll recognize the voices.”

I nodded.

Maybe?

As my afternoon progressed, my anxiety grew. Though I listened to Father Gabriel’s recordings, I couldn’t concentrate. The words
prideful
and
vulgar
kept repeating in my mind.

How is it that it was my friend who upset me—not Sister Lilith, not Jacob, but my friend?

Maybe it was because I cared what Elizabeth thought. I cared about her friendship.

Will she decide she doesn’t want to be friends any longer if I can’t remember the past, if I’m too different? What will happen if I do as she suggests and confess to Jacob? Don’t we have enough happening, with going to service?

Remembering the running, I tried to pace the confines of my room. Though the cast made my left leg longer than my right, causing an uneven gait that aggravated my rib, I continued to move. Freedom was more important than the pain. After so long in my bed, I relished the ability to stand, walk, and sit of my own accord. Yet with each minute I waited for Jacob, my apprehension of the unknown grew. I knew this room and was familiar with it. I’d counted the steps from my bed to the wall, my bed to the bathroom, and my bed to . . . anywhere within these four walls. I knew what was expected of me here.

What will happen out there, at service? What will happen when Jacob returns?

I rolled my head and shoulders, trying to relieve the tight muscles. My mind wanted to run, yet my body could hardly handle the pacing. Obviously my strength wasn’t up to par. After a few laps, I’d sit, rest, and then try it again. During my walks I stopped at the closet multiple times to see my clothes. Of course I couldn’t see. I could touch and feel. Elizabeth could be right, I might have jeans at home, but I didn’t here. Mostly everything I touched was soft and long—nightgowns, I assumed. I found the skirt and sweater she’d mentioned. Now I wondered about a bra. I hadn’t worn one since I’d awakened. It was one more thing to add to my stress.

If saying
shit
is vulgar, what will happen if I go to service without a bra?

Perhaps it was from my exercise, or maybe an escape mechanism, but as the hours passed, tiredness overcame me, and I decided to nap. That was where I was, in a dream world, when Jacob finally returned. Though his entering woke me, I didn’t move. Remembering my transgressions, I lay still listening to his footsteps.

Is he upset or am I nervous and paranoid?

Panic pricked at my skin as I tried to decipher his mood. Each slap of his shoes against the tile echoed throughout the room, reverberating off the walls and accelerating my already too-rapid pulse. Slowly I turned, summoning what little bit of courage existed within me, and said, “Jacob?”

His steps lightened as he came closer and brushed my forehead with his lips. I didn’t understand why we hadn’t shared another kiss like the one over a week before. Maybe he knew I still needed to heal and didn’t want one thing to lead to another. Right now I didn’t know what I wanted. It was probably absolution.

“How was your afternoon?” he asked.

Shit! What does that mean? Do I have to tell him everything, or does he already know?

I wanted to ask, but I knew better. All I could do was answer. Moving my legs to the side of the bed, I sat, smoothed my hair, and replied, “Eventful.”

“Really? Do tell.”

The slight humor to his tone gave me strength. “Elizabeth came to see me.”

“She did? That was nice. Did you have a nice chat?”

“Jacob, while Elizabeth was here . . .” My words trailed away.

“Did something happen?”

My face paled, my stomach twisted, and a sheen of perspiration coated my skin. Fighting the nausea, I went on. “Yes, actually. Do you remember . . .”
No, stupid, that’s a question.
I rephrased. “I remembered that you said I could speak to anyone who came to my room.”

“Yes. Of course you may speak to Elizabeth.”

“Jacob, Father Gabriel came here this afternoon.”

“Go on.”

Shit! Shit! He’s too calm.

“Sara, tell me about Father Gabriel’s visit.”

“Well, at first I was shocked. I knew his voice the moment he spoke. I’ve been listening to his recordings.” The sentences ran together. “He was very nice and said that he wants me at service tonight, that he missed seeing me sitting with the Assembly wives, and that he was glad I was feeling better. Oh! And he told Elizabeth that she could assist me tonight, because I guess you have to sit with the Assembly.” I took a breath.

“Then I guess we’d better both get ready for service tonight.”

I nodded, swallowing the bile that had made its way from my stomach.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“All . . . that he said? Yes, I think.”

He sat beside me and reached for my hand. “Perhaps you should think harder.”

Tears trickled from my bandaged eyes. “I’ve told you before that I’m not good at this.”

“You are. You were. You just need to be reminded.” He cleared his throat. “I won’t ask again.”

I took a deep breath. “I may have questioned Father Gabriel.”

“You
may have
?” He asked, still too calm. “You don’t know?”

I stood and moved away from him. Holding on to the back of the chair for support, I replied, “I’d forgotten what day of the week it was. I mean, every day is the same. When he said he wanted me at service, I forgot it was Wednesday. I was shocked he meant
tonight
.”

“And what did you say?”

“I repeated
tonight
, and my tone may have sounded like a question, because Brother Timothy made a noise. As soon as he did, I realized what I’d done, and I said it again and told him that I’d be happy to be there. I added with your permission. I tried to make it seem like I didn’t question”—my run-on sentence was interrupted only by muffled sobs—“but I did.” I took a breath. “And after he left, I whispered a curse word to Elizabeth, which apparently makes me vulgar.” I confessed the last part dejectedly.

“Oh! I didn’t know about the swearing.”

I nodded with a sigh.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes,”
I might as well admit everything.
“Brother Timothy never spoke while he was here. I didn’t even know it was him with Father Gabriel until later when I asked Elizabeth. I said I thought it was rude of him to not announce his presence”—I shrugged—“since I can’t see. And, well, she reminded me that as women we aren’t owed men’s words, and thinking I was owed them made me prideful.”

Jacob lifted my chin. “If I’m keeping count, we now have questioning, vulgarity, and pridefulness. You did have an eventful afternoon.”

I shrugged, completely thrown off by his calm tone. “Will we still be going to service?”

“Yes.”

Maybe that is all there is. Maybe I just need to confess?

“May I get ready?”

“Do you really think I can let this behavior pass?”

My heartbeat came back to my ears, echoing louder than before as my body began to tremble. What was he going to do? “I’m very sorry. I am trying.”

“Yes, Sara, you are. While the vulgarity and pridefulness are new, we’ve been working on the questioning for some time now.”

“And I’m getting bet—”

His finger touched my lips.

“There is still room for improvement. Don’t you agree?”

With his finger still in place, I nodded.

“I believe it’s time for a lesson in consequences, a punishment to help you remember.”

Though his hand hadn’t moved, I leaned slightly away. “Please, I promise—” This time he covered my mouth completely.

“Sara, do not make this worse. This is the way it is. You knew that there would be correction when you confessed, didn’t you?”

I nodded. Though I’d hoped otherwise, I’d known.

“If we were home, we’d do this in our bedroom, but since we’re here, go to the bathroom and prepare.”

He released his hold, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Fear paralyzed my trembling body.

“Sara?”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Go into the bathroom, remove your clothes, and wait for me.”

“But what about service?” My inner monologue screamed, calling me by name:
Sara, stop asking questions!
“I’m sorry.” As I took a step toward the bathroom, a sob bubbled from my chest. “I told you everything. I was honest.” I couldn’t have hidden the defeat from my voice if I’d wanted.

I did as he said, entered the bathroom, removed my clothes, and waited. When he didn’t come, I found my robe and put it over my shoulders. I didn’t put my arms in the sleeves, but I didn’t like being naked and alone. I wasn’t sure how long he made me wait, but each minute was worse than the one before. When the door finally opened, I was sitting on the closed toilet, with my head down.

“Take my hand,” he commanded.

I reached out to him. As our hands connected, I stood and my robe fell from my shoulders. Silently he moved me to the sink and turned me to face it.

“Put your hands on the edge of the vanity and don’t let go of the counter, until I give you permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I replied, my trembling hands moist. When I gripped the edge, they slid upon the smooth surface. I gripped tighter.

“Move your legs back and apart. Brace yourself.”

I continued to obey, still unsure of what was about to happen. It was then that I heard the distinct sound of his belt as he unbuckled it and pulled it from each loop.

No! This can’t be happening!

My knees went weak. I bit my lip and fell forward onto the counter, still gripping the edge. The first contact wasn’t his belt, but his hand. He ran it over my behind, rubbing and warming my skin.

“Sara, your honesty has earned you leniency. However, it’s my job to watch over you and correct you.” He continued caressing. “I need you to remember your place, especially now that we’ll be out among more followers. I want you to remember the rules. I’m doing this to help you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jacob.”

I sucked my lip back between my teeth. Though I’d replied appropriately, it wasn’t what I wanted to say. I wanted to scream, to tell him he was crazy, tell him that I’d remember next time. I would. He didn’t need to do this. I also wanted to tell him to just get on with it. Stop making me wait. But then the caress ended, and I changed my mind. I didn’t want him to get on with it. I wanted to beg for it not to happen.

The still air filled with a whistle and then a crack.

It was a split second before the pain registered. In those milliseconds, I knew that I’d never forget this. I also knew that I’d never had this done to me. If I had, I’d remember, because I sure as hell wasn’t ever going to forget this.

“Sara, you need to count. Next time I won’t remind you.”

Next time? No freakin’ way! I am stronger than this.

“One.”

Whistle. Crack!

“Two.” Tears fell from my cheeks to the vanity below.

CHAPTER 13

Stella

“He works in narcotics and homicide, right?”

I stared incredulously at Bernard, hoping that maybe I’d misheard his innuendo, or that the chatter of the other patrons and clinking of the dishes had affected my hearing. “Umm, yes,
he
does, and I work for you. Would you like me sharing my research with him?”

Bernard’s lips formed a tight line before he replied, “No. You know I wouldn’t. I want to break this story, not DPD.” He leaned across the small coffee shop table in Midtown where we’d met. “But Stella, you have a hell of a great resource at your disposal. I mean, I knew you two were friends, but I didn’t realize how friendly you were until he called me. The guy was very determined to learn your location.” He sighed and leaned back. Picking up his coffee cup, he asked, “What if you’d been out on assignment instead of going to the Wayne County Medical Examiner? Would he have expected me to tell him where you were then?” His brows rose. “I got the distinct impression that he doesn’t often take no for an answer.”

I shook my head. “Really? You’re Bernard Cooper, since when do you worry about someone not taking no for an answer? I’ve never known you to even be fazed by the word. As a matter of fact, isn’t that your calling card?”

“
I
don’t take no for an answer, and yes, it is
my
calling card.” His jaw clenched.

Unsure where this was going, I replied, “You lost me.”

“I realize that this is overstepping my bounds, but, well, I have Mindy in the back of my brain, and I want to be sure you’re all right. Does Detective Richards take no for an answer?”

Oh my God!

My neck stiffened. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended. Let me tell you that yes, you’ve overstepped your bounds, but not just once. You’ve overstepped your bounds on two counts: First, Dylan and I do not talk work while we’re together. We recognize the conflict of interest. So no, I won’t ask him for information that could substantiate the rumors that something big is happening on the drug front. Second, my personal relationship is none of your business. While I appreciate your concern, I hope you know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t be with a man who didn’t take no for an answer. I’m not wired that way.” I tilted my head to the side and took a drink of my coffee. When he didn’t respond, I added, “After all, I love this job, and I’m damn good at it. But if I can tell my boss,
the great Bernard Cooper
, to mind his own damn business and take his suggestion to spy on my boyfriend and shove it up his ass, I think I can handle Dylan Richards. And since you’ve admitted to not taking no for an answer, should I be concerned about your wife?”

By the look on Bernard’s face and the color of his neck and cheeks, I might have gone a little too far. Unfortunately, speaking my mind had never been something I was good at monitoring. In business I was usually pretty good at filtering, but not when it came to my personal life. My mouth would take on a mind of its own.

This was both business and personal. I should have filtered. I’d blame the fact that I hadn’t on lack of sleep or worry over my friend. No matter the cause, I’d look for another job before I let Bernard Cooper or anyone else think that he or she could tell me what to do when it wasn’t something I was comfortable doing.

The longer Bernard remained silent, the clearer my future became. Finally I nodded and threw my phone in my purse. As I began to scoot from the booth, Bernard said, “So you’re walking away from this job you love because I’m concerned about you?”

I sat back down. “I assumed by your silence I was done.”

His lips curled upward. “I like your fortitude. I really do. I don’t know if Mindy would’ve reacted that determined. I just hope that you’ll remember that inner strength as you keep doing your research and if and when you’re called down to the ME’s office, if it’s not a false alarm.” He lowered his voice. “I know I’m a hard-ass. It’s who I am. At the same time, I like your determination. I have since I hired you. Keep it. Don’t compromise it for anyone. In this business and many others it’ll take you far.” He grinned. “Hell, maybe I
should
fire you.”

My eyes widened.

“Not because you’re not good at your job, but because you’re
too
good. If I keep you here, one day you’ll probably have my job.”

Wow, I wasn’t expecting that
.

“You’ve got a good gut,” Bernard continued. “It’s just that I’ve seen this kind of thing too many times.” He lowered his eyes to the table, avoiding eye contact for the second time in recent memory. “Even with my own sister. It’s not something I talk about, but it might be part of the reason I want to expose as many injustices as I can.”

Who is this man?

“Remember,” he went on. “You’re stronger than you even know. Keep that gut instinct alive and stay true to yourself. Don’t let Dylan Richards or anyone else stop your dream.” He took a deep breath. “I wish I’d said that to my sister, or that someone else would have. You’ve got a bright future. Your reaction tells me that you believe that. You know you’re talented. That’s not conceit. It’s believing in yourself.

“After you called to tell me it wasn’t Mindy, I thought about Detective Richards’s call, his determination to find you, and about Mindy’s disappearance and how it was affecting everyone, especially you.

“Years ago my boss sat me down and gave me some great advice. He said that when the shit hits the fan, it’s not time to turn away. It means the source of the manure is close and that means one thing: something is growing. Though it may stink, it’s going to be big. Remember that, especially in our business, it means we’re close. So put on your shitkickers and plow through. Believe in yourself”—he smiled as he looked deep into my moist eyes—“even if it means telling off your boss.

“And in case you didn’t get it from that story, my wife’s the one person who can emphatically tell me no.”

I was suddenly rethinking every negative thought I’d ever had about Bernard. Maybe he could be a pompous ass, but perhaps that was his veneer and possibly underneath there was a real person. At nearly twenty years my senior he’d seen more than I had. He’d also been in this business for two-thirds of my life. Taking his advice suddenly seemed like a good idea.

“Thank you. I’ll stay true. It’s who I am, who my parents raised me to be. That’s why I won’t stop my search for Mindy. That doesn’t mean I’ll let my work for you or WCJB slip.”

“I know you won’t.”

I sat taller. “I also won’t use my personal relationship with Dylan to get a story, any more than he’d use my research to break a case.”

Bernard nodded once, his expression undecipherable. “Then get your believing, true ass out there. I have the next three weeks of stories ready, and Foster has a few follow-ups I can always air. But I want more. I want to find out what’s happening with the border patrol and if there’s any connection between the drugs and the increase in missing persons.”

I’d begun to stand when he told me to
get my ass out there
, but with his words I sat again. “What did you just say?”

His dark eyes sparkled. “You do listen well. That’s one of your best attributes. For your information, I don’t sit in my office all day and play solitaire, letting you and Foster have all the fun. I got where I am by doing my own research. You and Foster are good, very good. That’s why you’re my lead investigators. That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to get in the trenches. I still know my way around this town and have my share of connections. Those you made at that fancy law firm, Preston and Butler, aren’t the only ones who can help with this.”

“You’ve been talking drugs for three weeks. Now, you’re suddenly throwing missing persons into the equation. Do you think they’re connected?”

He shrugged.

I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Don’t shit with me. If you want me to break the damn story why wouldn’t you share this with me,
one of your lead investigators
?”

“You’ve got great questions, now figure out the answers.” His gaze narrowed. “Think about it.”

I didn’t look away. “You didn’t expect me to agree to ask Dylan for information or spy on him, did you?”

His shoulder rose and lowered.

“It was a test,” I confirmed.

He lifted his coffee cup toward me. “Congratulations, Stella, you passed.”

Instead of clinking cups, I glared.

“Calm down. I only recently got the tip, and in light of Mindy, I think it deserves investigation. I needed to be sure that if I put you on it, you’d keep your head in the game and not let your personal life get in the way.”

I inhaled and pressed my lips together.

“I don’t only mean Detective Richards, though I don’t want him knowing what you’re doing, or, more accurately, the DPD knowing. I’m also talking about Mindy. This case could reveal nothing or it may shed light on everything. The only way to know is to do what I said, get your ass out there. Go check out what’s happening on the border today, talk to your contacts, and come back to the station this afternoon. I’ll share what I have then.”

“Thanks, Bernard. I’ll keep my phone charged. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Be there by three, unless you get something else.”

I threw a five on the table and with a wink said, “You’ve already overstepped enough bounds. I’ll get my own coffee.”