The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (The Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mysteries) (33 page)

Father entered from the side door, and his gaze
swept the room, taking in the unrest. When he turned to his remaining honor
guard, or whatever they were, and took note of their anxiety, his expression
soured. Bet he was missing Eli now.

Just as Father raised his hands for order, the
side door opened and Gabriel strode in. He had made the trip back from Duluth
in record time. Looking more harried than I had ever seen him, he assumed his
place next to Father. With his arrival, the pervasive tension seemed to loosen
its grip on the crowd. Father took a deep breath and turned to face the church.

“Maranatha, children.”

“Maranatha, Father.”

“Are you watching, my children?”

“We wait on the Lord.”

“Will you be counted worthy?”

“We pray to the Lord.”

“I know many of you are aware that there has been
a medical emergency this afternoon.” His voice, deep and melodic, further soothed
the edginess of the people. The hypnotic cadence, a slowing and smoothing of
his words, kept the delivery as rhythmic as breathing. “It’s only natural that
you are concerned when one of your brothers is in distress. That reflects the
good in your hearts, and it pleases me. I am aware too that there have been
some very wild rumors flying around.”

He chuckled softly and shook his head as if in
gentle amusement at the follies of his “children” and their overactive
imaginations. No rants about the sinfulness of gossip this time.

“Unfortunately, this means we must postpone the
Naming Feast…” His brown eyes found mine, and he smiled down on me. “We
wouldn’t want to celebrate the addition of a new soul without our dear brother,
now would we?”

I dunno. I was kind of up for it.

“Rest assured, my children,” Father nodded
beneficently, seeming to wrap the whole crowd in his kindly gaze. “We will be
able to enjoy our celebration in just a few days when Moses is recovered from
his gallstone attack. In fact, I have high hopes that he’ll be released
tomorrow.”

Gabriel and I locked eyes. A fleeting look of disdain
shadowed his face. Then he looked away.

“And I know,” Father continued, “that you will all
accept with understanding and gratitude that your evening meal will be
restricted to sandwiches as the kitchen helpers have been understandably upset
by the commotion. In fact, I hope some of you take this as an opportunity to
fast and pray for our dear brother’s quick recovery.”

Father raised his hands, said a brief benediction,
and released the church. As the people rose, I pushed my way to Gabriel,
although I wasn’t sure I could say anything with everyone milling around. Just
as I reached his side, I heard Father say, “Lock it down. Everything. Nobody in
or out.” Then Father marched out the door, letting it bang behind him. Casper
and Dathan scuttled after him, but Gabriel didn’t move.

“Gabriel?” I said.

His jaw clenched as he walked away.

T
he dining hall
was chaotic, even though they were only providing sandwiches, fruit, and weak
lemonade. I kept my eye out for Rachel, but still didn’t see her. She had to
eat, didn’t she? Even though the kitchen was temporarily off-limits—the swing
door had chairs stacked in front of it—Beth and I snuck around to the back
entrance. Jala, ever the trooper, was prepping for breakfast the next morning,
while Myrtle worked at wiping down the big industrial stove. Somebody had
cleaned up all the blood, but I couldn’t stop myself from shuddering when I
looked over at the spot.

Despite being wrist deep in dough, Jala walked over
and, while being careful about holding her hands away, gave me a big hug
comprised mostly of elbows and bosom. We hung on to each other a bit longer
than social etiquette usually dictated, but who could blame us?

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m keeping busy now, so it’s all right. I tell
you what, though. I’m dreading going to sleep tonight. I decided I need to just
wear myself right out.”

“Good idea,” Beth said. “I just can’t believe
someone could do that to himself.”

Jala gave me a crooked grin that said, “I see you
told her.” I shrugged.

“I can’t believe it, either,” Jala went on. “I
couldn’t believe it even when it was happening. You, on the other hand.” She
shook her head at me. “I don’t know what we would have done without you. You
just jumped on him like a duck on a bug. If it had just been Talitha and me, I
don’t know what would have happened.”

“Well, we couldn’t just let him—” I broke off.
Nobody wanted to think about that outcome. Time to change the subject.

“Hey, what’s going on with Rachel?” I kept my
voice low, not wanting Myrtle to hear. I just wasn’t sure how much she could be
trusted. Jala shot a look over her shoulder too.

“As far as I know, she’s still under house
arrest,” she whispered. “I mean, she’s still sick.” Her flour-covered fingers
twitched quotes over the last word, letting us know her opinion on Rachel’s
health. “Maybe she could use a visit, though. Dathan is awfully busy right now.
Father has them all in a top-secret meeting at his house.”

“If it’s top-secret, how do you know about it?” I
asked.

“The guys gotta eat,” Jala said. “I had to make up
a tray for all of them and send it over. So there you go. If Rachel’s so sick,
she shouldn’t be left all alone.”

“You are absolutely right,” Beth grinned.

We said our good-byes, then headed out the door.
The campus had cleared, and we tried to keep our pace nonchalant until we got
to the path leading to Dathan and Rachel’s cabin. Then we scurried like bunnies
invited to a greyhound race.

Beth knocked and we waited. No answer. She knocked
again, harder, with the same result. We looked at each other. Beth knocked so
hard I was sure her knuckles would sting, but still nothing.

Okay, then. As Beth stood watch, I slipped around
the cabin looking for a window for peeking purposes. She kept knocking, but
neither of us expected an answer. I found two windows, but both had the
curtains closed so tightly I suspected they’d been pinned.

When I made it back around, Beth’s face had
constricted into worry lines.

As we walked back to the lodge, I said, “So what
do you think?”

Beth shook her head. “It’s possible she really is
sick. She could be sleeping.”

It was possible. But neither of us believed it.

T
he next
morning, we were at the kitchen before daybreak, but Jala wasn’t alone. Cozbi
was taking inventory, moving from the cooler to the pantry with a clipboard in
her hand. The succulent smell of sausage being kept warm in the oven almost
caused me to faint. Jala must have decided it was time for some comfort food.

Beth and I made ourselves useful, she by feeding
bread to the toaster while I began piling containers of generic yogurt into an
ice-filled plastic tub.

Jala waited until I looked at her, then slid a
glance over to Cozbi. Then she blinked both eyes. I looked confused. She
blinked again, harder, and then I understood. This was Jala winking. I nodded a
conspiratorial “message received,” and she relaxed.

“So how was your visit?” And this was Jala being
subtle. At least she hadn’t mentioned Rachel by name.

“Not so good,” Beth said. “Nobody was there.”

Jala’s forehead creasing in worry. “Nobody?” She
glanced over at Cozbi, who appeared completely uninterested in our
conversation.

I shook my head. Nobody. 

Jala’s look of concern deepened. She puttered over
the stove, then stood and pulled her shoulders back. Pursing her lips and
nodding as though reaching a decision, she pulled a tray of sausage out of the
warming oven and grabbed some bread from Beth’s pile.

“You know what?” she said in a high “innocent”
voice. “Nobody’s taken any breakfast to poor Rachel. Dathan must be too
distracted what with everything going on. How would you like to take over a
plate to her?”

She slapped the sausages on the bread and grabbed
some fruit, stuffing the food into a small brown paper lunch bag. She added a
small can of apple juice, handed the package to Beth, and shooed us to the
door. Cozbi stepped out of the cooler just as we got to the door.

“Where are you two—”

“Bye,” Beth chirped.

We scurried to Rachel’s cabin, looking as guilty
and nervous as if we were slipping whiskey into the punch bowl on prom night.

Been there.

Nobody intercepted us, but this time when we
knocked on the door Dathan answered. My heart sank.

Beth held up the paper sack. “We have Rachel’s
breakfast,” she said in a bright,
I-know-you-don’t-want-us-here-but-we’re-going-to-ignore-that voice.

Dathan kept his body firmly planted in the doorway
blocking us as well as the view. Adam’s apple bobbling, he said, “I already
brought her something.”

“Oh,” Beth said, still holding the bag out.
“That’s too bad. Jala made a sausage sandwich special for her. Can’t you smell
it?”

Dathan’s nostrils quivered. He reached out to take
the bag, but Beth pulled it back.

“Do you mind if we come in and sit with Rachel for
a bit? I bet she’d like—”

Quick as a snake, he snatched the bag. “She can’t
have no visitors. I’ll make sure she gets this.”

We stood for a moment, all of us fully aware that
he was going to eat the sandwich as soon as the door slammed behind us.

Sighing with resignation, Beth held out the can of
juice. Right before Dathan’s fingers closed around it, she dropped it. The can
bounced off Dathan’s shoe and rolled into the cabin. Dathan bent over clumsily,
trying to grab it, giving us a clear view of the one room cabin. The empty
cabin.

Beth and I spun on our heels and walked away.

Chapter Thirty

E
ven though
Dathan shut the door, we waited until we were well away from the cabin before
saying anything.

“I guess we don’t have to ask where they’re hiding
Rachel, do we?” Beth said grimly.

From her tone I knew what she was implying. I
didn’t necessarily disagree, but I said, “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe
they stuck her in the shed, but maybe not. The problem is we’ll only have one
shot to get to Maggie and get whoever is in the shed out.”

“So what are we going to do until then? Just—”

“And there’s always the chance that she’s not in
the shed. Maybe Father’s doubling up on her ‘special sessions.’”

Beth gave me a look. “
Eww
.”

“No, not sexual. I don’t think so, anyway. More
like brainwashing sessions, I’m guessing. Or she could be holed up somewhere,
sleeping off a drunk. Wouldn’t be the first time, and we know she avoids Dathan
when she’s on a binge. They wouldn’t want her drinking known to the general
public, either. That could be what all the secrecy is about.”

“Could be,” Beth agreed. “Well, if she’s sacked
out somewhere, sleeping it off, we should be able to track her down. We’ve got
a good chance, anyway. But if she’s getting her thoughts rearranged with Father
Fascist, well, then… I don’t know how we’d ever find that out.”

“That would be a tough one, all right. Maybe…”

“Maybe, what?” Beth asked.

“Maybe Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?” Beth’s voice rose in disbelief.
“Gabriel, Father’s newly ranked second-in-command? Military, yes-sir-no-sir
Gabriel?”

I sighed. “I know, I know. But he’s seemed
different lately. Like he’s having doubts. I know he felt bad when Eli left.
And he could have exposed us back at the meth lab. He seems to have his own standard
of morality. He was the only one who didn’t ogle me during my stripper walk in
the temple.”

“Maybe he’s gay. Anyway, all that could be very
true, but it still would be a huge strain on his loyalty. Especially now.
Father has to be depending on him almost entirely. I think we should make sure
we’re ready to leave before trying to flip him.”

Normally I would have made fun of Beth’s
double-agent talk about flipping someone, but I didn’t have the heart. “Okay,
first things first,” I said.

“That’s always been my favorite A.A. aphorism.”

“Well, we’re using it now,” I said. “First thing
we need to do is check the places we can. The temple, the dining hall, the
barn, etc. And then we’ll go room by room through the lodge.”

“What about the guys’ side?”

“Maybe at dinner time? Let’s worry about that
later.”

“We’re leaving an awful lot to worry about later.
Should I make a list?” Beth asked.

I couldn’t tell if she was serious. “Temple
first.”

We were less than a hundred yards from the
building, so it made sense to start there. And Rachel had said she liked going
there for the peace and quiet.

It was quiet all right. But not peaceful. At
least, not after we found her.  

Rachel lay discarded on the floor, facing the
altar, both arms flung out as though beseeching the heavens for forgiveness. Or
as if she had been crucified. A splotch of maroon-turning-to-brown blood
bloomed on her chest. My TV CSI-educated brain told me the blood wasn’t fresh.
And her eyes, sightless and void, were locked in a never-ending stare.

“Oh, God,” Beth yelped. Her words intruded into
the emptiness and she covered her mouth.

I grabbed her other hand and we backed down the
aisle until we made it to the small foyer.

“I’ll stay,” I said. “You go call for help. Don’t
bother asking anyone, just get to the office phone and call the cops.”

“Right. What about…? You don’t think we should
tell anyone?”

“Get the cops coming first.”

“Right. Okay.”

She left without another word, and I was alone
with Rachel.