‘‘Just keeping vigil, taking my turn.’’ She glanced at the freezer. ‘‘We have to be ready.’’
Garrett snorted. She glared at him from under her lashes.
I said, ‘‘Glory, where’s Luke?’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’
I set a hand on her knee. ‘‘Please. He’s like my own son.’’
Garrett crossed the room in two strides. ‘‘For chris-sake. We don’t have all day.’’ He jammed the muzzle of the rifle under her chin. ‘‘Tell us where the kid is, right now, or you can join Pastor Pete in that freezer.’’
I jumped up. ‘‘Garrett, no.’’
‘‘You’ll get nowhere by sweet-talking her, Evan. She’s a terrorist, fucking revival-tent Hamas.’’
‘‘Not this way. Put it down!’’
He stood rock still. ‘‘You want your nephew back? Trust me on this.’’
Glory spoke through clenched teeth. ‘‘Go ahead. I’m not scared of dying. But I don’t know where Luke is. Our cells operate independently, and I’m not in the unit that handled the retrieval of the boy.’’
I swore. ‘‘Garrett, lower your weapon. She doesn’t know.’’
He looked at me.
I said, ‘‘Leaderless resistance. That’s their strategy.’’
Slowly he withdrew the rifle. ‘‘Shit.’’
He stood breathing hard. I watched him, shaken, trying to gauge what had just happened, alarmed by the ferocity of his eruption.
I said, ‘‘Give me ten minutes.’’
Glory said, ‘‘Better make it five. The others will be here to relieve me soon.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Shiloh and the Brueghels. They all plan to keep the next watch over Pastor Pete. They’ll be here anytime.’’
Garrett said, ‘‘Goddammit. Where are they now?’’
‘‘Patrolling the perimeter.’’
‘‘You have two minutes,’’ he said, ‘‘while I check outside to see if they’re coming.’’ Shoulders bunching, he strode through the kitchen and out the door.
I sat down next to Glory. She was hunched and skittish, and a feral intensity fizzed in her eyes. Amid the streaks of dirt on her face I could see the scar left where Mel Kalajian had removed her tattoo. The sympathy I’d once felt for her had faded.
Still, I said, ‘‘You can come with me. Get out of here.’’
‘‘No. They find you, wherever you go. You know that now."
She had a point. I said, ‘‘Stay, then. I won’t offer to help again.’’
She wiped her nose and started rocking once more. ‘‘That guy with you.’’
‘‘Garrett. He’s a soldier. I brought him to protect me.’’
‘‘Yeah, I know. He’s part of the puppet government. But you’re okay.’’ She glanced toward the kitchen. Garrett was gone outside. ‘‘What I’m going to say, don’t tell him. Promise me.’’
‘‘Fine.’’
‘‘Promise me.’’ The volume of her voice punched up a notch.
‘‘All right. I promise.’’
‘‘You can still be saved. But it has to happen before you die.’’ She leaned toward me. ‘‘So don’t leave China Lake. Not yet, not till after Halloween.’’
A jolt ran from my groin up to the center of my skull. I put my hand on her arm. ‘‘Glory, what are they going to do?’’
‘‘I told you, Halloween is an aperture. The wall between this world and hell gets thin and lets Satan attack more easily.’’
I remembered.
‘‘Chenille plans to turn it around. She’s going to go for it on Halloween, because she can deliver a deep blow. The attack will strike right down into hell itself. She can give the beast a fatal injury.’’
‘‘What’s the battle plan?’’
‘‘Cripple the government. You incapacitate Satan’s puppet, you strike the beast right in the heart,’’ she said. ‘‘She plans to destroy as many federal agents as possible.’’
‘‘Washington?’’ I said. ‘‘The Remnant is attacking D.C.?"
She shook her head. ‘‘Washington is a vortex of evil. The Remnant isn’t big enough to counteract its sucking power. Chenille’s going to draw a whole bunch of federal agents to one place, as far from the D.C. funnel as possible.’’
‘‘How?’’
‘‘Her crew’s going to cause a disaster that’ll get the FBI, National Guard, CDC, all kinds of feds together. ’’
I was picturing western vortices of sucking evil. ‘‘Los Angeles, Las Vegas?’’
‘‘She’s going to get them to Santa Barbara.’’
‘‘Oh, Jesus. Glory, why?’’
"L.A.’s too spread out. You couldn’t get them in a small enough radius. Same with Vegas. Nothing but desert in all directions, with high winds probable.’’
That shock, a bone-deep pain, hit me again. I knew where this was going.
‘‘But Santa Barbara’s containable,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s a compact metropolitan area with mountains on one side and the ocean on the other, and no easy escape routes. There’s just three roads for people to evacuate on, and you can cut them all off—the One-o-one Freeway on either end of town, and San Marcos Pass. So once she gets the federal agents into town, she’s going to take them out.’’
She sniffed and wiped her nose. ‘‘Plus Chenille totally hates Santa Barbara, because that’s where she became a whore. She wants to see it trashed.’’
I said, ‘‘She’s going to release biological weapons.’’
She gaped at me. ‘‘How’d you know?’’
‘‘I know about the Botox, Glory. And about the robbery at Mel Kalajian’s office the night he was murdered.’’
Her eyes jumped before her mouth tightened. ‘‘Now you know the real reason why I can’t leave the church. I know too much.’’
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t care about her innocence or guilt anymore.
Hurt, and feisty slyness, heated her face. ‘‘All I’ve done is what Rowan would do.’’ Talking about the heroine of my novel. ‘‘I’ve fought to stay alive. I’ve done whatever it takes.’’
‘‘That’s not Rowan.’’
‘‘Yes, it is. She’s an outcast who bucks the odds, just like me.’’
I stood up. ‘‘No, Glory. Rowan refused to become a collaborator, even to save herself. You’ve done exactly the opposite. You’ve submitted, and compromised yourself forever.’’
She drew in on herself, eyes widening, lips slowly parting.
I stood over her. ‘‘How does the Remnant plan to draw federal agents to Santa Barbara? What’s the disaster they’re going to cause?’’
She looked away and started rocking again. ‘‘I don’t know—and don’t go ballistic like your man did the other night at the university. Shiloh’s handling the trigger event, and she keeps her mouth shut tight.’’
‘‘You must have some idea.’’
The kitchen door banged open. Garrett strode into the living room. ‘‘A vehicle’s coming. It’s far off, but won’t be for long. Let’s go.’’
I said, ‘‘Glory?’’
‘‘I can’t tell you any more.’’
Garrett was wound so tight that he was practically ticking. ‘‘Evan,
now
.’’
I heard the rumble of a truck engine. I started to follow him, but stopped. He exhaled, aggravated.
I turned back to Glory. ‘‘I have to know. What happened to Jesse?’’
She was looking out the door, nervous, hearing the truck approach.
‘‘Just tell me,’’ I said. ‘‘Is he . . . ?’’ The word
dead
simply would not form on my lips.
She kept staring out the door, now fidgeting.
‘‘I’m not leaving until you tell me. Even if it means they catch you talking to us.’’
She grabbed her head with both hands. ‘‘All right!
Yes
.’’
A buzzing started in my head, and the room seemed to swerve. The furniture, the walls, the freezer, all warped and started smearing together.
I stammered, ‘‘How?’’
Glory’s face seemed to swell like a balloon. ‘‘They ran him off the road and dragged him out of the car. He put up a fight, but they outnumbered him.’’
My throat constricted. ‘‘Why did they do it?’’
‘‘They wanted a guinea pig.’’
‘‘I . . . What? I don’t understand.’’
‘‘They needed a person to test the biological weapons on, to make sure they work. Sorry, Evan, I know the guy’s your lover but this is war.’’
I reached for something to grab hold of, but found only air. ‘‘Oh, God, they exposed him to Botox?’’
‘‘No, not to anything, not yet.’’
Tears were burning my eyes. ‘‘Then why the hell did they kill him?’’
Her balloon face swam and tilted quizzically. ‘‘Nobody killed him.’’
I grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘He’s still alive. He’s being held as a POW.’’
23
It felt as if lightning had flashed through me. I pulled Glory to her feet. ‘‘Where is he?’’
‘‘In an old fallout shelter out in the desert.’’
The blinds clacked and swayed. Outside, the engine rattled nearer, approaching the cabin.
Garrett hefted the rifle. ‘‘Evan, we either climb out the back window in the next ten seconds, or we shoot our way out the door. Come on.’’
But I had Glory by the shoulders. ‘‘How do I get there?’’
‘‘It’s up Copper Creek, in the hills east of China Lake. But I don’t know how to tell you—’’
Garrett wrenched me away from her. ‘‘I know where that is. What defenses do you have on the place?’’
‘‘No defenses. In his condition, where’s he gonna go?’’
A truck pulled up and shut off its engine. Garrett towed me toward a back bedroom. We heard women’s voices in the kitchen.
‘‘Who left this door open? Glory? Glory Moffett, you do this?’’ It was Chenille.
‘‘Sorry. It was so hot in here.’’
Garrett slowly slid the bedroom window open.
Heavy footsteps in the living room. ‘‘You’re filthy. You go in the crawl space?’’
‘‘I heard noises. I didn’t want rats to get the supplies, so—’’
A new voice, higher-pitched, taut as wire. ‘‘What’s this white stuff on the floor—plaster? Hey, the freezer lid looks frostier. Did you open it?’’
‘‘No, Shiloh.’’
Chenille said, ‘‘You better not have touched my Reddi-Wip.’’
‘‘I didn’t go near the freezer.’’ Startled silence. ‘‘Maybe it was Pastor Pete.’’
Garrett leaped nimbly through the window and held out an arm for me.
Shiloh said, ‘‘You think—’’
‘‘Oh . . . !’’ Chenille moaned. ‘‘Peter! Open them eyes, baby—’’
We ran.
Halfway up the hill I looked over my shoulder at the dried-biscuit landscape. The cabin’s aluminum-foil windows glittered like eyes. No one was coming after us, but we still ran. Garrett paced me, weaving over the rocky ground, holding the rifle at the ready.
I said, ‘‘Glory won’t be able to explain the bullet hole in the ceiling. Chenille’s going to figure it out.’’
‘‘You worried about us, or her?’’
I pushed ahead. ‘‘Jesse.’’
He shot me a look. ‘‘Glory was in the crowd that kidnapped him, I’d give you even money.’’ We reached the saddle in the crest of the hill and surged over it. He said, ‘‘I know I was rough with her. But she has no remorse, and the only way you get people like her to play ball is to threaten them with absolute, immediate pain.’’ We accelerated, half sliding down the grade. He said, ‘‘What’d she mean, this guy can’t go anywhere in his condition?’’
‘‘He’s disabled. He can’t walk.’’
He wobbled, almost losing his balance. "You’re kidding."
‘‘I wish I were.’’
When we reached my car I was blowing hard and drenched in sweat but exhilarated, in fact wild with relief and the urge to hurry, to get to Jesse before something intervened. As we drove back to Garrett’s Jeep, he told me how to find Copper Creek. I listened, and he touched my arm.
‘‘Here’s the problem. I can’t go with you. I’m on duty in half an hour. You’ll have to call the police.’’
‘‘I’ll never get a signal for my phone out here.’’
‘‘I’ll call when I get back to town. Just wait for the cops.’’
‘‘No, Jesse might be hurt. And Glory said there are no guards.’’
‘‘You believe her?’’
‘‘I have to.’’ That was adrenaline talking, or maybe faith; maybe they’re the same.
We reached his Jeep. Garrett put his hand on my shoulder.
He said, ‘‘I can tell by your enthusiasm for finding this guy that we aren’t going to have a second date.’’
His voice sounded winning. He looked intrepid, and gracious—the good loser. I felt a pang about rejecting him after he had put himself in danger for my family.
I touched his cheek and kissed him quickly. ‘‘Thank you.’’
Then I was racing away down the highway toward Copper Creek.
The men were waiting for Brian in an interrogation room at the jail. Detective McCracken he recognized, the redheaded cop with the Brahma bull chest. Two others had to be FBI, he thought. They looked the way he’d expect Bureau agents to look: intelligent, wearing blue suits and broomsticks up their butts. A fourth guy, casually dressed, sitting on a table by the window, was with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, the NCIS. Brian was on his own. He hadn’t called his criminal lawyer, hadn’t wanted to wait for him. He should have.
The NCIS agent turned on a television set. It started playing the CCTV tape of Brian talking to Paxton and Tabitha.
The FBI agent, DeKalb, said, ‘‘Have a nice chat with your wife?’’
It went downhill from there. The tape was low-quality video, so they couldn’t discern the terror in Tabitha’s eyes, and it had no sound, so they couldn’t hear the conversation. But they could lip-read Tabitha mouthing,
Do it.
DeKalb kept rewinding the tape to show it again and again. ‘‘Do what?’’
Brian told them that Paxton wanted to ransom Luke in exchange for weapons. He told them he was willing to arrange it. They could set up a sting.
They didn’t believe him. They didn’t think Paxton was about to provide evidence that would lead to his release. He was a murderer. He wasn’t going anywhere, and he certainly wasn’t going to be permitted to handle navy weaponry. The FBI agents stalked around him, smelling of aftershave and suspicion. McCracken sat wheezing, his arms crossed on his gut. The NCIS agent loitered in the back of the room, a cop, he thought, who probably spent his days investigating procurement fraud, a pencil pusher. But he was the one who gave Brian a clue to what was going on.