The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (The Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mysteries) (23 page)

“The official explanation is because children are
guaranteed to be raptured in the first wave. They are innocents. Jesus said,
‘Let the children come unto me.’

“But Father says they’re a distraction,” she
continued. “He says they can split our loyalties too. Focusing on earthly ties
means our eyes are off the Lord.”

“What’s the unofficial reason?”

“Father hates kids,” she said, deadpan.

We both smiled.

“You could probably sneak them in, and he’d never
know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him outside his house or the temple.” If you
didn’t count rolling around in the bushes, that is.

“I do need to see them,” Rachel said. “But not
here. There’s too much…” Her eyes clouded as her attention turned inward,
tracking thoughts she wasn’t ready to share. When it was obvious she wasn’t
going to finish her sentence, I tried nudging.

“Too much what?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel good. I have to find
Tirza.” Even though she was dodging the question, her pasty complexion bore
witness to her statement.

After she left, I lay in bed a while longer trying
to snuggle under the thin blanket. Back in the real world, this would have been
my Saturday to see clients at the clinic. Guilt rose like a blush, warming my
torso but leaving my arms and legs chilled. Closing my eyes, I took a few
minutes to think about each person and our work together and sent up a good
thought. Was that prayer?

I knew Rachel was right—every church, every
organization had its dysfunctional members. Anything run by a group of people
was going to have a random mix of do-gooders, control freaks, and your basic,
garden-variety whack job. Professionally speaking, that is. But a group where
the leadership was fundamentally flawed—maybe even evil—was a dangerous
proposition.

With a sigh, I stood up, instantly regretting the
decision as my toes curled on the cold floor. I would stay in bed brooding, but
that would mean missing breakfast. Not gonna happen.

Talitha was cooking this morning, and she offered
a choice of watery scrambled eggs or a gritty homemade granola cereal. Still,
it was better than nothing as the recent fast had proven. I learned gratitude
in A.A., and it came in handy here.

With only twenty minutes left for breakfast
service, the hall was fairly empty. Baara, Cozbi, and Naomi sat lingering over
their plates at one table while Maliah and Abigail shared silence at another.

I wouldn’t have minded sitting with Abigail, but
it was too early in the morning for Maliah. 11:59 p.m. was too early in the
morning for Maliah. Pretending not to see Abigail’s plaintive face, I sat down
across from Baara and Cozbi. Rachel trudged in moments later.

She had changed clothes but still looked mighty
rough. Bypassing the food line, she foraged in the cooler, returning to the
dining hall clutching an overripe banana. Talitha, looking as if she was about
to object, took in the pale face and red eyes, and settled for a tsk-tsking
headshake.

A sour morning-after smell rose like a scented
omen around us as Rachel sat. Eyebrows raised like scandal sensors, Talitha
grabbed a kitchen towel and began to wipe the clean table next to ours.

She wasn’t the only person alert to Rachel’s
condition. Sitting with her back to Maliah, Rachel was as unaware of the sharp
eyes stabbing her back as she was of Maliah’s approaching presence. Until the
woman took the seat next to her, that is. Nostrils flaring at Rachel’s odor, a
smile darted across Maliah’s face.

Only Baara remained unaware of the brittle quality
the air around us took on. Naomi picked up her tray, said a brief good-bye, and
fled the scene. Cozbi was the most difficult to read. While not outwardly
excited by the brewing drama, she seemed too alert to be called undisturbed.
Mostly, she watched.

Clearing my throat, I said to Cozbi. “Has Father
mentioned that I’ll be working with you?”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. How about we get
together after breakfast?”

“What are you talking about?” Maliah demanded.

“Father has assigned me to be Letty’s mentor.
She’s preparing to take The Vow.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. She hasn’t even been
named yet. And there are several others who have been here longer. What about
Beth? Or even Cheryl?”

“Do you question Father’s wisdom?” Rachel cut in,
drawing first blood. “Obviously, he’s seen something special in Letty. He
believes she’s ready for The Vow.”

Having been effectively backed into a corner,
Maliah was left to either disagree with Father or accede that his decision to
fast-track my admission to the inner circle was appropriate.

Shrugging her shoulders in feigned disinterest,
Maliah attacked from a different angle.

“Don’t upset yourself, Rachel. You don’t look
well. Is it the flu?” Smiling at Rachel’s sudden flush, she continued. “Of
course, the decision to bring someone in to the Elect isn’t as onerous as when
we have to remove a threat from our midst.”

“We? I thought Father was in charge here.”
Rachel’s face rapid-cycled to ashen in her anger.

“Father said Priella is going to hell,” Baara
inserted.

Rachel and Maliah remained locked in battle.

“Priella was no threat,” Rachel said. “Except,
obviously, to
you
.”

Maliah gritted her teeth so hard I expected to
hear them crack. I was not upset at this thought.

“Evidently Father felt she was,” Maliah said.

“Even he can be misguided if he’s given false
information.”

A sharp gasp from Baara yanked attention away from
the two combatants.

“Father doesn’t make mistakes.” Baara’s voice sank
to guttural, nearly growling with intensity.

The anger drained from Rachel’s face and she
reached a hand across the table to Baara’s. “But even Father, if he’s not given
all the facts…”

Baara stood abruptly, wrenched her hand away, and
tipped over a glass of orange juice. “Don’t you say that. Father—”

“Baara—”

“—doesn’t make mistakes. You’re a liar. And liars
go to hell too.”

She stomped out of the dining hall, banging the
door behind her. Rachel sat in stunned silence while Talitha mopped at the
spilled juice.

“Goodness,” Talitha said. “I don’t know what got
into poor Baara. She used to follow Rachel around like a lamb. Rachel was even
teaching her to read. Baara was so
proud
of herself. But I guess with
all the craziness around here, people are bound to go off half-cocked. And, of
course, she’s not exactly right in the head, is she?”

“
Talitha
,” Cozbi said.

“What?” Talitha looked honestly confused.

Maliah let out a decidedly unattractive snort.
Richly satisfied with her morning’s work, she pushed up from the table and
tossed a frothy “bye now” over her shoulder as she exited.

“There’s one in every bunch,” Cozbi said.

“She’s mean enough for three bunches.” Talitha,
undeterred, blurted out another observation.

This time, no one scolded her.

Chapter Twenty-One

A
fter feeding
the dogs, I left to meet with Cozbi. The cabin she and Moses shared was
situated across the driveway from the dining hall and between Father’s house
and the lodge. Tangles of autumn-browned shrubs and scrub trees grew all
around, effectively screening the cabin from view, except possibly in dead
winter. Instead of rustic privacy, the dense vegetation gave off an aura of
hostility; anyone trying to walk through there would poke her eye out.

Although not yet noon, the small cabin was dark
enough to need the glow of the 40-watt lamp that Cozbi had turned on. A sagging
full-size bed and two ladder-back chairs were among the few pieces of furniture
the room boasted. The one item with the potential to cheer—the fireplace—yawned
empty, a dusting of ash the only lingering remnant of past warmth and light.

I took a chair while Cozbi chose the bed. As she
did, I noticed the pillow, centered under the headboard and so thin it barely
caused a rise, was the only one on the bed. Glancing around, I spied its mate
stacked neatly in a corner on top of two equally meager blankets.

Moses’s bed?

Cozbi watched my eyes, her face a careful blank.

I cleared my throat. “So how does this work?” I
asked.

“It’s different for different people. Mostly I’m
here to answer any questions and make sure you’re prepared for your decision to
accept The Vow. I hate to say it, but Maliah’s right. This situation is fairly
unorthodox. Usually it takes weeks before Father gives the sign that he feels a
person is worthy. I’m told you will start your purification and time of
meditation tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That seems awfully fast to me too. I’m
not, um, trying to question Father’s decision, but why is he doing this?” I
asked.

“Why?” she echoed. “Don’t you know?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t ask for it, and I
wouldn’t mind waiting. I didn’t even realize I was being rushed through until
Maliah complained at breakfast.”

“Maliah will always find a reason to complain.”

I wondered if Cozbi had been informed of my
discovery in the woods. “I get the impression things have been a bit chaotic
since Enoch left. Could it be a mix-up?”

“I doubt it, but then again…” Cozbi broke off and
looked thoughtful. “Enoch broke his Vow. Then he made it worse by running back
to Las Vegas. Such a slap in the face. I was surprised Father was even willing
to file a missing persons report. Normally, he avoids any involvement with
infidels.”

“Father reported Enoch missing?”

Cozbi nodded. “Technically, Moses did, but he
wouldn’t have unless Father ordered him to. Moses trailed Enoch to a hotel room
on the strip. All his things were there, but it looked like there had been a
struggle. Blood everywhere, they said.”

Huh?
How could he have gone missing in Las
Vegas and have body parts showing up here in Wisconsin? Had Enoch really been
killed in Vegas? Then what? The killer brought his hand back to show Father? Or
maybe the killer kept it for a trophy?

“He never, uh, showed up?” I asked. “I mean, his
body or anything? Do the police think he was murdered?”

She snorted. “How would I know? They aren’t going
to tell me anything.”

“You work at the sheriff’s department, right?
Haven’t you heard anything?”

“I’m only a dispatcher, so it’s not likely that
I’d know what the detectives are thinking.” Her reply seemed disingenuous and a
shadow flitted across her face.

“Not even in such a small department?” I kept a
playful note in my voice.

Cozbi finally smiled. “That’s usually true.”

“But not in this case? Do they know you live
here?”

“Like you said, small department. Besides, I
needed a ride home once; Dave Zandowski brought me.”

“He seems nice enough, anyway. He was flirting
with Rachel.” I regretted my words as soon as they passed my lips.

Cozbi frowned. “What?”

“The day they were here interviewing people. It,
uh, looked like he was flirting with Rachel. She never did anything improper,
though. It seemed completely innocent. I was just kidding.”

“I wonder if that’s why…”

“Why what?”

A long pause drew out while Cozbi debated
answering. She looked at me speculatively. I got the feeling if she did reply
it would be with hopes of learning more from me.

“Why she met him for lunch the other day,” Cozbi
finally said. “I had hoped it was about the investigation and not something
worse.”

“Worse? Meaning maybe it was about Father or the
Elect? Why are the police interested in us, anyway?”

A shutter went down behind her eyes. “You need to
be prepared for persecution, Letty. People don’t understand why we choose to
live the way we do. They’ll call us a cult and wage war against us just like in
Waco.”

“But Rachel wouldn’t be a party to that.
Everything she’s said to me about Father or the church has been positive. In
fact, since she was the one who brought me to the Elect, I sort of expected her
to be my mentor for my Naming. No offense.”

“None taken. Anyway, we’re straying off the
subject. Where were we?”

“You were about to explain why I’ve been put
forward for The Vow so quickly.”

She frowned. She hadn’t been going to do any such
thing, and I could almost see her mind wrestling with whether she really had.
“Well… I can’t say for sure, but…”

I waited. I’m good at that.

“The only thing I can think of is that you need to
take The Vow before you’re eligible for marriage within the Elect.”

My face heated up. Father had hinted about seeing
me with a highly ranked man.
Eli?
Not Justus, anyway. He was still
struggling for a place on the ladder.

Cozbi might have had mind-reading abilities,
because she nodded. “The women are having a field day trying to keep track of
the men who might decide to seek you out. In fact, there may be more than
they—or you—even know.” Her glance slid over to the bedding stacked against the
wall.

The memory of Father’s nasty chuckle when he spoke
about my future standing sent an awful thought shivering through me.

“The Elect doesn’t allow, um, well, marriage to
more than one—”

“The issue of marriage isn’t before us, now. If
you don’t take The Vow, it won’t even be an issue.”

Note to self: find out the church’s views on
polygamy.
Fast
.

“The Vow is a period of contemplation,” Cozbi
continued as though reciting. “Throughout the Bible, people seeking a deeper
understanding of God use fasting and isolation to facilitate that. We call it
‘taking The Vow’ or ‘our time in the desert.’ It’s twenty-four hours for men,
and forty-eight or so for women. Our contemplation period goes from noon to
noon over three days, however.”