The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (The Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mysteries) (11 page)

How long has he been here?

She was very kind. Pretending everything was
normal, she graciously repeated her name. Three times, in fact. I finally had
her spell it—Priella.

Once we had the introductions sorted out, I
confessed I couldn’t manage any more. I was toast. I told
Priella—truthfully—that I had a headache and went to my nightstand for more
Tylenol.

Surprise.

No Tylenol. No cell phone. No Bible. Probably more
was missing—my purse felt considerably lighter—but I didn’t know what.

I stood staring dumbly into the ransacked drawer,
waiting for words to arrange themselves along the dead circuitry of my brain.

“Letty?” Observing my trance-like state, Priella
sounded concerned.

“Somebody took my stuff,” I said, turning to look
at her. My voice squeaked querulously, making me sound twenty years younger as
I rattled off the list of missing items.  “Who would steal a Bible?”

“It’s not like that,” she started.

“Not like what? My stuff is gone!” I pointed at
the drawer, since she obviously didn’t get it.

“I know. But it’s not because of a thief. It’s
because there are certain rules that we live by here. You’ll learn about them—”

“Tomorrow,” I interrupted. “Yeah, I heard.”

“Cell phones don’t work up here anyway. No towers.
But the idea is we’re supposed to devote ourselves to the Elect and the
fellowship, to study and prepare ourselves for purity. And Tylenol is a drug,”
Priella said. “We pledge against caffeine and nicotine too. And of course
alcohol.”

“Okay, I get the cell phone, and I can deal with
the Tylenol. Maybe. But what’s with taking the Bible?”

Exhausted, I sat on the edge of my bed. My
headache kicked up a notch in direct opposition to my assertion, forcing me to
sort her words through pulsing thumps.

“We all come to the Elect with ideas we’ve learned
from the world”—thump—”Father believes it’s necessary”—thump—”to begin our
studies fresh”—thump—”to break through false teachings”—thump—”so that we can
all move forward”-–thump—”as one.”

Dangling my feet off the edge, I lay back on the
bed. It was lumpy.

“So we can start with a clean slate,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“All on the same page.”

“Yes.”

“One for all and all for one.”

“Well…”

“Never mind, Priella. I have a lot to learn.
Tomorrow.”

Using the last remaining below-sub particles of
energy in my bones, I got ready for bed. I didn’t just fall asleep that night.
Sleep reached out and snatched me down.

In spite of sleeping like I had OD’d on Seconal, I
didn’t feel rested. Vague memories of waking up hot and sweaty throughout the
night as I fought with lumps and demons left me groggy. Worse, I awakened at five
a.m., with no chance of falling back asleep and no hope for coffee. Deciding to
make the best of it, I showered and headed for the dining hall.

Jala, Seth’s roly-poly wife, was elbow deep in
breakfast preparations. French toast, from the look of it. She greeted me with
a strong Scandinavian accent that stretched vowels like warm taffy.

“Aren’t you the early bird?” Apparently Jala was
of the dreaded species—morning person. Very chirpy. Cheerful enough to make me
squint.

“Not usually,” I said. “But I couldn’t get back to
sleep.”

“Oh, yeah. I know what you mean. It always takes
me at least three days to get used to a bed. Well, I guess I mean nights, don’t
I? And there’s so much to get used to around here, isn’t there?”

“It’s a big change,” I acknowledged.

“You won’t regret it,” she said. “It’s so
wonderful seeing new faces come into the community. Helping people come to the
Lord and all. Like the Good Book says, “Go to the lost sheep, preach this message:
‘The kingdom of heaven is near.’ Matthew 10:6-7. And of course, the Great
Commission. Same book, 28:16-20.”

Hoo, boy. Scripture-speak was like a secret
language, and someone had stolen my magic decoder ring.

 “I’m impressed,” I said. “I don’t know the Bible
that well. That’s one of the things I want to change. I was really surprised
that they aren’t allowed.”

“What aren’t allowed, dear?”

“Bibles.”

“Oh, my. That policy, yes. I’d forgotten. Of
course, they couldn’t take mine. I keep it all up here.” Laughing gaily, she
tapped her forehead. “Of course, some people would say that’s not the safest
vault in the bank.”

The speed and efficiency she displayed as she
bustled around the kitchen defied her claim of ineffectiveness. In addition to
cutting slices from homemade bread loaves with a quickness that would have cost
me a knuckle, she had been darting in and out of a commercial-sized walk-in
cooler, gathering eggs, milk, and jugs of juice. Seemed like an awful lot of
work for one person.

“Do you set up breakfast by yourself?”

Her voice echoed off the metal walls as she
foraged deeper into the chilly space. “Oh, no. I’m not supposed to. That girl,
Jazzy, was supposed to be here bright and early. Wouldn’t you know she’s late?”

“Put me to work, Jala. I’m just standing here.”

“Oh, sure. That would be great. Aren’t you the
nice one?”

After sending me to wash my hands, she set me up
cracking eggs into a huge mixing bowl. I never had the opportunity to stare
down at more than two dozen egg yolks quivering like yellow eyes in clear goop
before.
Blech
.

“Add some milk there. It’ll go farther,” she
instructed as she stuck a whisk in my hand. I flailed at the eyes, killing
several, and feeling better for it.

Then the back door slammed. A familiar voice
called out:

“Hey, Ma. What’s for breakfast?”

“Oh, you. Get out of my kitchen. And don’t you
call me Ma. I’m not that old, yet.” Jala hooted and fussed playfully as Eli and
Moses sauntered in to the kitchen.

My skin flushed hot as Eli’s eyes found me.

The Paul Bunyan look worked on him. Faded blue
jeans with a forest green flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up past his forearms.
Very rugged. Very tasty. The whisk went wild, splashing egg glop onto my shirt
front.

“Can’t, Ma. I’m starving.” Eyes twinkling, Eli
turned back to Jala, burying his grin in his teasing. “Did you make me some
bacon?”

“
Uff da
. You’ll get me in trouble with
that. You know the rules. Besides, what you need is fruit.”

“
Meat.
”

Eli and Jala continued the light-hearted banter as
he took a seat with Moses at the small dining table tucked into the corner.
Fluttering about her tasks, Jala managed to continue cooking while providing
the men with bowls, cereal, toast, and milk.

Moses sat silently, not joining in. His ice-blue
eyes found me too, spreading over my chest like the egg glop on my shirt.
Flipping a kitchen towel over my shoulder so that it draped my front, I
instinctively flashed him a decidedly nonsubmissive “back-off” glare. His eyes
tightened and he turned away, pulling a small spiral notebook from the pocket
of his down vest.

“She’s got Orientation at nine,” Moses stated,
apparently talking to his notebook. Eli and Jala both fell silent, staring
quizzically at him. He raised his eyes to Eli, speaking directly to him. “The
new girl.” Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he indicated me. For the second
time that morning a flush swept over my body. Different man, different reason.

“Oh, this is Letty,” Jala said. “I thought you met
last night or I’da introduced you.”

Moses looked blankly at her.

“Nine o’clock, hey?” Jala persevered valiantly.
“That’ll be nice. Is that with Maliah?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Now when does she meet with you,
Eli?”

Eli looked over at me appraisingly. “Letty’s the
last one in. And she’ll be the last for a while.”

“Oh, you mean because we’re closing entry? I hate
that. It doesn’t seem right. The Great Commission, you know. How can we ‘make
disciples of nations’ with our doors closed?” For the first time, Jala looked
truly upset.

Eli walked over and patted her shoulder. “It’s not
permanent,” he assured her. “We just need to get some kinks in the system
straightened out.”

“Eli’s head of Security now that Enoch...”
Catching Moses glare, hotter than the stove she was cooking on, Jala veered
away from the subject of the deserter. “It was quite a thing, him joining up.
Eli, I mean. Saved Father, don’t you know?”

“Saved him?” My voice rose in tandem with my
eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure. A bunch of gang guys came tearing up
to Father out in Eau Claire there. Bunch a meth heads, probably, wanting the
donation money. And there was Eli— jumped right in before our fellas knew what
was going on and chased them off.”

Moses scowled during Jala’s recital of Eli’s
heroics. I looked at Eli for confirmation.

“Just a bunch of EZ-rider wannabes,” he drawled.

More code, but one I understood. The Valentine
brothers must have had a blast pulling this one off. Chewing my lip, I turned
away and noticed the dining hall filling up.

“
Uff da
—here they come.” Jala said with a
squeal.

Chapter Eleven

I
was able to
sit next to Beth during breakfast, although there were too many people around
for us to really talk. We caught a few moments after the breakfast rush. She
walked with me back to the lodge.

“How’s Jimmy?” were the first words out of her
mouth.

“Worried sick,” I said. “Why haven’t you called?”

“They have one phone here, and they guard it like
it’s the freakin’ Holy Grail. They took my cell, and I’ve only been off Megiddo
one time to work at their restaurant. It’s driving me crazy. I almost got to
the phone there, but Justus caught me and I had to pretend I was looking for
something else. I’m going to try again at my next shift.”

“Okay, my turn,” I said. “What the hell is Eli
doing here, and how did he manage to work his way in like that?”

Beth stopped in the middle of the drive and
pointed toward the barn. “Act like I’m describing the place. The first part of
the question you already know. He’s here because you are. Second part happened
after Eli came to the rescue when some guys on motorcycles attacked Father
after one of the Peace meetings. Bet you can guess who that was.”

“Eli’s brothers, of course. Manny and EZ must have
had a blast.”

“No doubt. Eli figured Father would feel indebted,
and it seems to have worked. Still, even Eli didn’t expect Father to hire him
for security. I think Father wanted somebody from the outside. There have been
some strange things going on here. Maybe Father is trying to get some checks
and balances in his little security force. They’re called ‘the Seven,’ by the
way.

“From what Eli’s told me,” Beth continued, “he’s
not pretending to be all spiritual or under Father’s spell or anything.
Basically, he told Father that he’s taken the job for the money and power. I
guess Father respects that. For now, anyway.”

We turned and started walking again.

“Money and power, huh?” I said.

“And women. They tend to go together.”

She laughed at my frown. Then she reached over and
quickly squeezed my hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For coming, I mean. I’ve
been so… I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh, shut up.” I pulled my hand away. “And don’t
forget, you owe me.”

As we neared the lodge entrance, Naomi walked out.
We had to let it go. Besides, it was time for me to meet with Maliah. Beth
walked me to the office.

The large room held three desks, but only two
women—Rachel and another I hadn’t met—were working. They both looked up when I
entered, and from the previous evening’s conversation, I identified the other
woman as Maliah. Baara was right; Maliah wore makeup.

Rachel smiled, but Maliah gave me a rather blank
stare. Thinking maybe there’d been a scheduling mix-up, I introduced myself and
told her Moses had instructed me to meet with her.

“I know,” she said. “It’ll be a few minutes.” Then
she turned back to her work.

“Oh, sure,” I said. “I’ll just… uh…”

Rachel said, “Why don’t you sit at Abigail’s desk?
She won’t be back for a few minutes, and I’m sure whatever Maliah’s doing will
be done shortly.”

The two eyed each other with catty hostility. Must
be fun working in the cramped office space.

“I’ll be done when I’m done,” Maliah muttered.

Rachel slid her gaze to me and rolled her eyes.

Just then, Baara came bustling in, breaking the tension
with her happy exuberance. She carried two steaming mugs, but as she crossed
the room to Maliah’s desk, she stumbled. Hot tea slopped over the edges.
Yelping, Baara dropped them on the floor, tea spilling everywhere. A lemon
wedge lay stranded in the middle of the puddle like a dead fish.

Maliah jumped up. “You stupid cow. Can’t you watch
where you’re going?”

Baara’s face crumpled. She buried her hands in her
skirt and twisted them. Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Maliah!” Rachel said. “That’s enough. You have no
right to—”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I was just kidding.”

“Then how come no one else is laughing?” I said.

Dead silence.

After a moment, Baara snuffled and used her sleeve
to wipe her face. Rachel handed her a box of tissues. Instead of using one to blow
her nose, she knelt and began wiping up the tea. The tissues quickly turned
into a sodden mess.

Maliah sighed like Cinderella’s stepmother and
swept past us all.

“We’ll meet in the den while this gets cleaned
up,” she said.

S
he was waiting
in the room across the hall. The large room was decked out in leather armchairs
and three slightly worn tables. Although lacking a computer, it still
functioned as a retreat for reading and study. Windows framed with heavy maroon
drapes allowed a view of the lot to the south and the dining hall to the west.
They lacked the high drama of the lake view, but backdrop of birch and fir
trees wasn’t exactly ugly.