White Heat (11 page)

“Availing himself of other men's wives?”

“If that family is lucky and he's willing to spill his holy seed into the female vessels prepared for him.” She spoke dully, as if by rote.

“So there could be more than one Vessel.”

“Lesser vessels. We're still waiting for him to name the one who'll be mother to the whole church and bear the son he'll call his heir.”

To Rachel, it sounded as if the families were merely concubines for Ethan. He allowed the other men to coexist with him, probably because he couldn't support so many women and children. He needed the men to work, if nothing else. “You said he was going to ‘gather proof' that you'd had sex with your husband. How did he plan to do that in his room? He already had a witness or he wouldn't know about it.”

Her jaw hardened. “He took me to his private rooms for ‘prayer.' Only…”

“Only…” Rachel watched Martha carefully, trying to figure out who'd she'd been then and who she was now. She'd actively participated in the cult's sexual practices. That was clear. But it was just as
clear that she'd thought she was living a “higher law” when she did.

“He did more than pray. He tied me down. Then he…he did some…other stuff.”

“Can you tell us what?” Rachel asked.

She stared at her smoldering cigarette. “No. It was too painful. I—I can't even think about it. I tried to confess so he'd stop, but it didn't help.”

Was Ethan sadistic? Or just ruthless in administering “punishment”?

Nate took over the questioning. “What happened next?”

“He decreed that I'd have to wear a chastity belt and be shunned until I could prove myself worthy by obeying God's commandments.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “But I couldn't bear a punishment like that. I knew then that he hated me, that he'd keep me in that belt forever, which meant I'd have to live as an outcast. I wouldn't be able to participate in the rituals, couldn't bear any more children. In a commune where a woman's main purpose is to give pleasure and raise up seed unto the Lord, that would be worse than death.”

“So you refused,” Rachel said.

“That's right. I thought my husband would support me, that we'd leave. Especially once I told him what Ethan did to me, how badly he hurt me and the joy he got out of it. But…” Her hand was shaking again when she lifted the cigarette to her lips. “But Todd accused me of lying to pull him away from the truth. He told me I was speaking with the voice of Satan. And when Ethan and the Guides came for me and dragged me out into the public square, it was Todd who threw the first stone. Ethan even had my s-son join in.”

Of course, such a young child wouldn't realize that throwing rocks at Mommy was anything more than a game. But the image Martha's words created brought bile to the back of Rachel's throat. What had her husband been thinking? “Have you talked to Todd since?”

“No.”

“I'm guessing he eventually helped you or…how'd you escape?”

“I—I started picking up rocks and throwing them back. I was hurting, throwing blindly. I had to defend myself. That was all I could think. I could not let Ethan take my life, or take my son and my husband from me.” Her cigarette dangled from her lips as she gazed past them, obviously experiencing the stoning again. “I accidentally hit Ethan. Then everyone panicked. They cried out that I'd attacked the Holy One and swarmed over to see if he was hurt. In the middle of the uproar, I felt a pair of hands yanking me away, sheltering me behind a body no bigger than my own. I have a feeling it was Sarah Myers, a widow from my tent, who's a burn victim and often ignored by the men because of her scars. While Ethan was tending to his daughter and calling for Dominic, the closest thing we—
they
—” she corrected as if still not quite sure that she didn't belong “—have to a doctor, Sarah or whoever it was shoved me toward the fence, and I ran and ran and ran. I don't know how I got through the gate. I just know I stumbled in front of a car on the first road I encountered, and an older gentleman and his wife picked me up in their RV.” She took another long drag. “It was freak luck,” she finished. “If that couple hadn't been there, Ethan would've come after me. And I wouldn't be around today.”

“I'm sorry,” Rachel said. As misguided as Martha
had been to get involved with such a group, no one deserved to be treated so cruelly.

“What made you join the Covenanters in the first place?” Nate asked.

Martha continued to smoke without answering, but Rachel could tell she was considering the question. It was one she'd no doubt asked herself many times. Apparently, she was still searching for the answer. “I think it started out as awe—Ethan moved me when he spoke, filled me with rapture. And then it was fear. If Todd and I went with him and the others, we wouldn't have to be responsible for ourselves anymore. Todd had just lost his job, and he had no idea what he was going to do. What I was earning wouldn't support us. With the Covenanters, we'd have a guaranteed home, food, friends. Even salvation. I wanted to live a better life than what we'd known.”

“You didn't mind sleeping with other men during the rituals?”

“Mind? I considered it a spiritual experience to connect on such a primal level with so many. It made us one as a group. That's powerful.”

And perfect for the spread of infectious disease, Rachel thought, but remained silent as Nate spoke.

“What if you were caught having sex with someone other than your husband outside of a religious ritual?”

“That's out of bounds. You'd be punished.”

“Like you were punished.”

She tapped the ash from her cigarette onto the floor. “You'd be restricted and then, if you wouldn't quit, shunned.”

Nate rubbed his right fist in an absent manner, his body language speaking volumes beyond what he actu
ally said. “Three weeks ago, a girl from the Portal area went missing. Courtney Sinclair. Are you familiar with her?”

“No.”

“You're sure? She was only seventeen.” He pulled out the flyer they'd been given at the restaurant. “This is her.”

Martha accepted the flyer with a frown. “I don't recognize her. Is there a reason I should?”

“She had some contact with the Covenanters before she disappeared.”

“She wasn't around when I was there.”

“This is more recent.” Nate took back the flyer. “Is it conceivable that Ethan might have abducted her?”

“Anything's possible with Ethan.”

“So how do we get in and get accepted?” Rachel asked.

Martha's cigarette had burned down to the filter. She stubbed it out in the same pizza she'd used before. “You'll have to go to an Introduction Meeting like I did, I guess.”

“Where are these Introduction Meetings?”

“At the compound.”

Rachel scooted forward. “When are they held?”

“It depends on what Ethan has planned that particular week. What kind of mood he's in. The Covenanters' entire world revolves around him and the other Spiritual Guides.”

“They must have some way of alerting the public when they hold their meetings,” Rachel said.

“There is. They post notices at various places.”

“Where?”

She seemed too tired to think, almost too tired to
care. “I don't know. I never did the posting. I couldn't leave the compound. Only the Spiritual Guides can enter Satan's domain and be allowed to return. Only they are deemed strong enough. Anyone else would be contaminated.”

According to her own words, she was now living in Satan's domain. “We have to wait until Ethan posts a notice?” Rachel asked. “A lot could happen before then. We're worried for this girl. And we want to help your son. Please think. There's got to be another way.”

“There's not. You have to go to a meeting—” Her head snapped up. “Wait. There's a bulletin board at the Museum of Natural History in Portal.”

During the few times Rachel had passed through town, she hadn't seen any museum. “In
Portal?
”

“It's up the canyon a bit. I heard Sister Maxine talking about it. Her husband works on the flyers and distributes them. He used to be in marketing. If there's a meeting coming up, the information might be posted there.”

“How do they appeal to nonmembers?” Nate asked.

Martha's expression grew sad. “They promise to love you no matter what. They say, ‘The great Alpha and Omega opens his arms and his heart to you.' But it's a lie.”

“Aren't they supposed to mean God when they refer to the great Alpha and Omega?” Nate wanted to know.

“Once you join, you're taught that Ethan
is
God. ‘By me or my messengers, it is the same.'”

Rachel and Nate exchanged concerned glances. Ethan held the ultimate power, just as they'd suspected. “We'll check at the museum, see what we can come up with,” she said.

Martha stood and reached out for her, then clung to her hand. “If you get in, if you see James, please tell him…” She fell silent.

How could a mother even begin to explain a situation like this to a child so young? Rachel wondered.

“Tell him Mommy loves him.”

That was about all that could be said, all he might understand. “We will,” Rachel promised. Then they showed themselves out.

When they got to the truck, Nate slid behind the wheel but didn't start the engine. Instead, he turned to face her.

“You realize what the situation could be like if we infiltrate this group,” he said.

“I do.”

He squinted against the glare bouncing off the buildings in front of them. “It could be worse than anything either of us has ever faced. Could be a
lot
worse.” He finally started the engine. Then he pinned her with a frank stare. “Especially for you.”

Rachel knew what he meant. She'd read or heard about the most notorious cult leaders, was fully aware of the atrocities they'd committed. She now believed Ethan was as twisted as any of them and that he was particularly focused on women.

“Milt knew, didn't he?” she said.

Nate didn't answer, but that muscle flexed in his cheek, the one that flexed whenever he was unhappy.

“That's why he sent us down here as a married couple,” she went on. “He'd found out enough about Paradise to know we'd have to be married to take the Covenant of Brotherly Love. And only if we do
that
will we learn any of the secrets that could bring Ethan down.”

“You don't have to go through with this,” Nate said. “I can drive you to Phoenix, put you on a plane and finish this myself.”

But then he'd have much less chance of infiltrating the group, of finding Courtney Sinclair….

Blowing out a sigh, Rachel looked up at the apartment they'd just left. The blinds had been drawn again. Behind those blinds was a woman who'd nearly been killed by Ethan because she'd wanted to see her son and sleep with her husband. Rachel felt obliged to help Martha get James back. She also felt obliged to find Courtney and stop Ethan. He was drunk on power and running unchecked, which meant a lot of people could be hurt. And what about Ethan's stash of weapons?

But if she joined the Covenanters, she'd be treated like the other women in the commune, would be expected to make the same sacrifices. If she didn't, she and Nate might never gain the trust necessary to be effective.

“This is the question we face every time we go undercover, isn't it?” she said.

He jammed a hand through his hair. “What question is that?”

“How far are we willing to go to make it seem real?”

“Infiltrating the Covenanters could compromise your safety. I say you go home.”

Somehow she knew he'd suggest that. But every job “compromised her safety.” She wouldn't let Ethan scare her away. Neither would she let him continue to use religion to manipulate others. “His days as Alpha and Omega are numbered. I'm staying.”

“Rachel—”

“You need me on this one, Nate,” she interrupted. And for the first time since she'd received this assignment, she was willing to admit she needed him, too.

N
ate had had a bad feeling about this assignment from the beginning. After hearing what Martha had to say, he knew why. He wouldn't have brought Rachel into this volatile a situation had he known. Milt must've guessed as much or he would've been more forthcoming.

The fact that Milt would hold out on him made Nate angry, but it shouldn't have surprised him. Milt generally had a good reason for what he did, but that didn't mean Nate always approved of it.

Still, Ethan had to be stopped, and that wasn't going to happen without significant effort
and
risk. It made no sense to leave two hundred people—virtually everyone in Paradise—in danger in order to protect one woman. He and Rachel had come this far. They had to finish. But he'd have to be more diligent than ever before, or this assignment could go terribly wrong.

As they approached a fast-food joint only a few blocks from Martha's apartment, Rachel pointed at it. “You want to grab lunch?” Although she'd mentioned lunch when she spoke to the Auto Zone clerk, they hadn't yet visited a restaurant in Willcox. They'd eaten a late breakfast, which made this meal late, too.

“Might as well,” he said. “We need to send a quick
report to Milt, let him know what's going on. And while we're on the Internet, I'd like to check Mapquest to get directions to the museum. I'm sure we'll have a better connection here than at the café in Portal.”

“Have you ever looked up the Covenanters on Google?” she asked as he pulled in.

“I did. The only thing that I got was information on the Scottish Covenanters of the seventeenth century.”

“Who were…what? Another group of religious zealots?”

He parked, climbed out and waited until she came around to meet him. “Not really zealots.” He held the door for her. “I just skimmed the information to find out if their theories and practices had any relation to Ethan's group. From what I read, they formed a fairly important movement that was one of the precursors of Presbyterianism, but I don't think there's any similarity in theory or practice.”

She chose a table in the far corner and he sent an e-mail to Milt, telling him they'd arrived and were already at work. Then, while Rachel ordered, he began searching for “Natural History Museum, Arizona.” A whole page of links appeared, but most were for a museum in Mesa, which wasn't anywhere close to Portal.

“Wow, there are a lot of natural history museums.” Rachel was back, holding the receipt for their food. Instead of sitting down, she leaned over his shoulder so she could see the screen.

“Could be the one we want is named something slightly different.” He added “Portal” and “South-eastern Arizona” to the keywords but that didn't help.

“This isn't related to the museum, but what do you get when you search for Paradise?” Rachel asked.

“A homemade Web site giving a few paragraphs of information on the town and a couple of pictures. Nothing about the Covenanters or Ethan. I get the impression the site predates him by a few years and hasn't been updated.”

“Maybe the museum is closer to Rodeo,” she mused.

The pimply faced boy behind the counter called out a number that must've corresponded to their order because Rachel headed back.

Nate had found what he was looking for by the time she returned with their food. “I got it,” he said. “They call it the Southwest Research Station.”

She put the tray on the table. “So…is there an Introduction Meeting in Paradise in the near future?”

“With any luck, we'll soon find out.” He closed his laptop and had just picked up his sandwich when Laura Thompson came in. She scanned the restaurant, spotted them and hurried over.

“I guessed that was your truck in the lot.”

Nate put his lunch down. “You were looking for
us?
”

“Yes. I—I thought you should know you're not the only people asking about Martha Wilson.”

“We're not?” Rachel said.

She didn't even glance at Rachel. “Just after you left, another guy came by, asking where he could find her. Isn't that
weird?
”

It
was
weird. But thanks to what they'd gleaned from the Auto Zone clerk, not really surprising. Apparently, there'd been people asking about her all over town. “Did he say who he was?”

“He said his name was Simon Green. He told me he'd read my article in the paper and wanted to know if I could put him in touch with her.”

Nate sensed Rachel's alarm but didn't react to it. “Did he give a reason?”

“He said he feels bad about her situation and wants to help.”

The concern on Rachel's face might've revealed that they had more than a passing interest in Martha but, fortunately, Laura wasn't looking at Rachel. “And did you tell him where he could find her?”

“No. I asked for his card and said I'd pass it on if I happened to see her again. When he made up some lame excuse about why he couldn't give it to me, I got suspicious.” She leaned toward their table with a conspirator's glint in her eyes. “And you know what else?”

Nate waited for her to go on.

“He was driving a rental car,” she said. “Why would anyone who lives in
this
area need a rental car? Around here, a car breaks down, we borrow from a friend or neighbor, you know?”

“Did you ask him where he was from?” Nate asked.

“No, I let him go. But he said he'd check back with me in a few days, so I might see him again.”

Nate pictured Martha, miserable and defenseless, in that apartment. “Have you told the police about this?”

“Not yet. I was on my way to the station when I saw your truck.”

She'd wanted to use what she knew to finagle a second conversation with him. Her motives were pretty transparent. But Nate wasn't interested in her romantically. “That's probably the best thing to do. They need
to offer her some protection. Make sure you tell them that, too.”

“Right.” She hesitated long enough to let him know she was reluctant to end the conversation.

“Thanks for telling us,” he said, hoping that would elicit a goodbye.

“You bet.”

When she still didn't leave, Rachel jumped in. “If the Covenanters are trying to reclaim one of their own, it might make an interesting tidbit for my thesis,” she said. “I think my brother owes you dinner since you've been nice enough to help me. What do you say, Nate?”

Responding swiftly, just in case Laura accepted before he could derail Rachel's suggestion, Nate forced a sheepish grin. “Come on, sis, you know I've always been a sucker for a gorgeous lady. But you also know I'm practically engaged. You're going to get me in trouble if you're not careful.”

The hope that had flashed across Laura's face vanished. “Oh, I don't expect dinner or anything,” she said with an awkward laugh. “I was just…trying to help. Thought you'd be interested.”

“We were. Thanks again.” He maintained the same appreciative but dismissive grin, and she finally moved out the door.

“‘I think my brother owes you dinner'?” he repeated under his breath to Rachel.

She shrugged. “She obviously has the hots for you.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Stay out of my love life.”

“Or…”

“Paybacks are a bitch.”

She drank some of her shake. “What kind of paybacks are we talking about?”

“For starters, you'll be the one sleeping on the floor tonight.”

 

Once they arrived at the museum, the flyer was right there on a billboard, just as they'd hoped. It began with the heading Church of the Covenant. Beneath was a quote from Matthew 11:28. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” A picture of the scenery surrounding Paradise, beautiful with the Chiricahua Mountains in the distance, came next, along with a promise of the joy to be found in living a Christ-centered life, “where every man is equal, every woman eagerly fulfills her role as a nurturer and children are brought up in love and industry.”

“I have a problem with that ‘every woman eagerly fulfills her role' crap. Who decides what her role will be?”

“Men, of course,” Nate said. “As it should be.”

She had to know he was teasing but she gave him a dirty look, anyway. He smiled and continued reading. “God is no respecter of persons. Why wait? Know God. Know Paradise.” On the very bottom they found a list of meetings, one of which was being held the following night.

“I think we have our wish,” Rachel breathed.

Nate nodded but his mind had already moved on to other concerns. They'd likely have to go in without weapons. And even if phones were permitted, there wouldn't be any cell service. Once they went in, they'd be on their own. Cut off from the rest of the world.

 

“What do you see?”

Nate was squinting at Paradise through a Sigma 50-500mm supertelephoto lens on a handheld Nikon D1. He had two shorter lenses in a pouch slung across his body. The gear would've cost the company a fortune if they'd had to purchase it. Fortunately, he had a buddy, a talented sports photographer, who owned several cameras.

“Nate?” Crouched beside him wearing sunglasses, a tank top, cutoffs and tennis shoes, Rachel also had a backpack, but hers was filled with water and snacks. It sat nearby, where she'd dropped it when they'd established their position on a plateau overlooking the compound. “Did you hear me?” she prompted when he didn't answer.

“I don't see a lot.” He adjusted the bill of his cap for more shade. “The saloons are gone. I can tell you that much.”

“
Saloons?”

“On the Web, it said there used to be thirteen saloons.”

“You mean, from when it was a mining town.”

“Yep.”

“I'm not surprised there were so many. People would have to be drunk 24/7 to want to live out here in the middle of nowhere,” she muttered, reaching for the camera. “Especially before modern transportation, which would make it easier to get out.”

Nudging her hand away, he brought the Nikon back up to his own eye. “No, you don't, sweetheart. Not yet. I don't even have it in focus yet.” But a second later he had a perfect view. There was a ten-foot fence with
razor wire on top enclosing the whole town. Not many of the early twentieth-century buildings remained. There was just one that still had a roof—the old post office. According to the Web site, that post office had been built around 1900 and was discontinued forty years later. Considering the mine had closed in 1907, Paradise had died a slow death.

“There we go…” he murmured.

“There we go, what?”

He handed her the camera. She put her sunglasses on top of her head, and he helped her hold the Nikon steady while she gazed through the lens. “Wow. Looks more like a prison than Paradise.”

“Question is—are they trying to keep people in or out?”

“
In.
They don't have the saloons anymore, remember?”

She had a point. But it sounded as if they had weed, meth or other drugs. “According to Martha, they're not teetotalers,” he said, and took back the camera to shoot a few pictures he hoped to enlarge later.

“They must live in those large white tents.”

“There wouldn't be enough housing otherwise.” He spotted a brown building behind a patch of trees. “They have some permanent construction. And it appears they're building more…” He got a picture of that, too.

“Can't be easy to drag lumber all the way up here.”

“Or cheap.”

“Hence the big tents.” She squatted closer to him. “Can you see any of the people? I couldn't find a single soul.”

Neither could Nate. There was no movement in Paradise. “Feels sort of deserted.”

“It's late afternoon. Maybe they're inside, having a siesta.”

Waves of heat bounced off the rocks all around. “Or some sort of prayer meeting in an air-conditioned building.” Lowering the camera again, he pointed to the Chiricahuas, which rose from the desert directly across from them. “Maybe we should hike over to those hills, try to get some shots of the town from a different angle.” Even if the second vantage point afforded them no new details about Paradise itself, it couldn't hurt to familiarize themselves with the land. Depending on how relations with the Covenanters went, that information could come in handy if they ever had to sneak out at night or slip away unnoticed—although how they'd get out of the compound except through the gate remained a mystery. That razor wire looked daunting.

Rachel stood and grabbed her backpack. “Sure, why not hike for the rest of the afternoon? It's only a hundred degrees out here.”

Nate raised his eyebrows at her sarcasm. “We can go swimming later.”

“In the nice swimming pool behind our trailer? Or at the resort?”

“What a smart-ass. I was thinking of the creek.”

“Not
Cave
Creek.”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “It runs year-round.”

“It's
July,
which makes ‘year-round' a matter of interpretation. The water barely covers the boulders.”

He'd seen that for himself. They'd driven along the creek on their way out of Portal earlier. But he was so hot he would've been happy with a trickle. “It's water, isn't it? Are you done griping yet?”

“No,” she snapped, but she didn't complain again.

“Wait up and give me a drink,” he called. She'd gotten ahead of him while he'd been packing the camera equipment.

She came back but didn't bother handing him her Camelbak. She passed him the mouthpiece at the end of the long rubber tube.

He drank, then watched her drink from the same mouthpiece. Her skin, naturally golden to begin with, had tanned quite a bit since the beginning of summer. She spent a lot of time on the beach when she wasn't working. He doubted she had to worry about burning two months into summer. But this wasn't another hour on the beach in L.A. Anyone could fry out here. “Time to put on some more sunblock,” he told her.