Mother Before Wife (The Compound #2) (16 page)

“Oh my word, it worked! I did it!”

Detective Cooke laughed under his breath. “Yes, you did. Good job. That click was the sound of the barrel being allowed to rotate forward slightly before hitting and seizing on one of the other pins. Now, keep going. Push the next pin, just like I showed you.”

Again and again I maneuvered the two hairpins in my hand, trying to stay calm when the lock refused to budge again and again.

“Keep at it. It’s not supposed to be easy.”

Taking a deep breath, I tried again. And again. Until finally, it happened.

The lock’s open!

“There ya go!”

“That took forever,” I said, wiping my brow. At least fifteen minutes had passed since I first attempted to pick the lock. “The Prophet will find me if it takes that long.”

“Keep practicing. Do you have locks at home you can try?”

“Yes. My bedroom door has a lock, but only on the outside. But won’t my sister wives know what I’m doing? I can’t stand in our hallway for hours.”

“True.” He placed his hands on his hips and looked out into the bustling police station. “Gimme a minute, will ya?”

He opened the door and left me standing there with two hairpins in my hands.

How did I get here? I’m standing in a detective’s office, learning to pick a lock with the pins I use to hold my hair in place. Months ago, I was just Aspen, a wife of the brother of the Prophet. Today, I’m a lock picker who consorts with Gentiles. How in the world did I get here?

I waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

While I waited, I wandered. It was rude of me to snoop but I was bored, and part of me wondered if the detective had focused his energies on another case. And so I walked over to his desk, attempting to understand this man who was willing to help me. I searched the desk for photographs, but there was only one—the detective and two older people who I assumed were his parents.

I picked up the frame, holding it while I studied the faces looking back at me. Detective Cooke had such a broad smile on his face, as did the others in the photograph.

These are not the smiles of evil.

When I heard him approach, I swallowed hard. Quickly, I returned the photograph to the desk and clasped my hands behind my back. He returned with a satisfied smile on his face, and didn’t even seem to notice where I was standing, that I was invading his privacy. Apparently it wasn’t high on his priority list.

“Look, this should work.” He held out his hand, and a lock that had clearly removed from a door was resting in his broad palm.

“Did you . . . ?”

He waved off my concern. “We don’t need it; no one locks the utility closet anyway. But you can practice. And when you’re feeling confident, you’ll go back to the temple.”

I was moved by his kindness, by his genuine desire to help me. Without thinking, I said, “I wish you could come with me.”

The detective said nothing, just pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. We both knew that was impossible.

He placed the lock in my hands. “You’ve got this, Little House. You do.”

I nodded, wanting to believe him, and hoped that belief would quell all the fears rising inside me—the fear of being caught, of discovering nothing, of being tossed aside by the Prophet, of losing everything in my life I held so dear.

The detective studied me, a crease forming just above his nose. “I can’t even imagine the pressure you’re feeling, but listen to me. I said this the last time you were here, but I believe it even more now after watching your determination with that lock. You’re different, Aspen. Special. I know you can do this.”

“Thank you.” I clutched the lock in my hand, raising it up to my chest. “Thank you.”

“Keep me posted, all right? You know how to reach me.”

“I do.”

I tucked the lock inside my bag and made my way from the busy police station, away from the only place that had made me feel safe since all this lunacy began. I knew it was foolish to feel that way, to feel safer with a Gentile than inside my own home, but it was true. And sometimes the truth was hard to face.

Allowing a small amount of confidence to shine through, I walked back to the compound, but was shocked when I entered a quiet home. There was nothing but silence.

“JoAnna? Ruthie?” I called out. My voice echoed through the empty hallway.

Where is everyone?

After searching the kitchen, common areas, Paul’s study, and my children’s bedrooms, I knew it was no use. No one was here. Was it possible the Prophet was having another end-of-the-world gathering in the field? The only way to find out was to leave my home and find my family.

Then I remembered that JoAnna was taking the boys to the park, which was only a few minutes from our home. I set out to find JoAnna and discover where the rest of the family had gone.

When I turned a corner and the park was in sight, my stomach dropped to my feet.

My entire family was with other members of the community, pacing the park, looking under bushes, talking to one another with concerned looks.

My pace quickened and I ran to them, terrified of what might have happened.

“Oh, Aspen! Thank goodness you’re here,” Pennie said, her face ashen.

“What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Jeremiah. He’s gone.”

“The Prophet knows all things, hears all things, sees all things.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

Aspen

“Tell me what happened,” I demanded. “Why didn’t anyone call me?”

My heart was racing and my stomach rolled. My baby was missing, and by the looks on everyone’s faces, there was no answer to be found. I retrieved my phone from my bag, double-checking that no one had called or texted me that Jeremiah was gone.

No messages. No voice mails.

“I wasn’t here,” Pennie said, placing her hand on my arm and turning to call over her shoulder. “Where is JoAnna? Aspen needs answers.”

JoAnna stepped away from the gathered crowd, her pasty-white cheeks streaked with tears. Her eyes were bloodshot and her voice cracked as she spoke.

“I was pushing them on the merry-go-round, and Ronan needed to be changed. So I left Jeremiah for just a minute to change Ro’s diaper. I swear to you, Aspen, I was only gone for—”

“
Gone
?” I shrieked. “You left him? For goodness’ sake, JoAnna, he’s only two! You can’t leave him alone!”

“I was at the picnic table, just there.” She pointed to the run-down table approximately twenty feet from the playground. “I only looked away to clean Ronan up. No one else was around, and I thought—” She burst into tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Aspen. So very sorry.”

“How long has he been gone?” I asked, attempting to remain calm but knowing that was impossible.

“An hour,” JoAnna answered.

“The children and I were walking by,” Pennie offered, “and JoAnna was calling his name. I ran back to the house to find you, but you weren’t there.”

Ignoring her last statement, I said, “Where’s Paul? Where is he?”

“He’s searching the grounds.”

“Why didn’t he call me? Why didn’t any of you
call
me?”

“I’m so sorry, I meant to. I wanted to, but I was ashamed.” JoAnna hung her head, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “I lost your baby. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t say the words.”

Flora approached. “Keep sweet, JoAnna. We’ll find him.”

“Keep sweet?” I whirled on Flora, snarling at her through clenched teeth. I wanted to claw her eyes out with my bare hands. “My baby is missing and you have the nerve to tell her to
keep sweet
?”

“He’s here,” Flora said matter-of-factly. “He must have wandered off. There’s no reason to panic.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I sneered. “None!”

“Now, you listen—”

“Somebody get her away from me!” I screamed. “Now!”

Pennie wrapped an arm around my shoulder and walked me away from Flora, who pursed her lips in an unapologetic way. I’d struggled to care for her for years, but this was the last straw. Flora was my enemy now. There was no going back.

“Please, just . . . I need a moment,” I said, pushing away from Pennie. “I, um . . . I need to call Paul.”

It was a lie. I wasn’t calling him.

“Of course.” Pennie stepped back and held her hands up in the air. “I’ll be right over here if you need me.”

I nodded, retrieving my cell phone with shaking hands as I walked away from the others for privacy. Quickly, I dialed Detective Cooke’s number, but he didn’t answer. My call went straight to voice mail, and my eyes welled with tears. I needed him.

“Jonathan,” I said, no longer caring about formalities. “I need your help. My baby, my Jeremiah is gone. Someone’s taken him, and I don’t know what to do. He’s been gone for an hour. Please, I need your help. I can’t trust anyone here. I need you.”

Placing the phone back into my bag, I stormed back to my sister wives. “Where are my girls?”

“Mama,” Ruthie called from the base of the jungle gym, rising to her feet and before running to me. Susan and Beatrice were right behind. “We’re here, Mama.”

I wrapped my arms around my girls, holding them tightly as we sobbed together.

“Where’s Jer-bear, Mama? Where is he?” Susan asked in a tight voice as she peered up at me with red-rimmed eyes.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. But we’ll find him. I promise you, we’ll find him.” But I wasn’t so confident.

I held my girls for another moment before pulling away. “I have to go, darlings. You stay with Mother Pennie, all right? Stay with her while I look for your brother.”

“No!” Beatrice yelled, throwing her arms around my waist. “Don’t leave us!”

I crouched down to look her in the eye. “I have to, B. I have to find him before it gets dark. You understand that, right?”

She nodded, but fresh tears escaped her eyes.

“Keep sweet, darling,” Flora said from behind me, and I turned to glare at her.

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped. “You stay away from my girls. Their brother is missing; they have every right to cry! Pennie, please take them.”

“Yes, Aspen.” Pennie approached and lifted Beatrice into her arms, and then placed a hand on Susan’s shoulder. “I’ll take them back to the house for some tea and cookies.”

“I’m not hungry,” Ruthie said, placing her hands on her hips. “I want to find my brother.”

Stroking her hair, I said, “Go with Mother Pennie and help mind your sisters. I’ll be back at the house as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Yes, Mama.”

I watched as Pennie and my girls disappeared toward the house. I had no idea where to start my search, but knew I had to find Paul. Quickly, I dialed his phone number.

“Oh, Aspen, thank goodness. Where have you been?”

My voice cracked with emotion. I was falling apart at the seams. “I was running errands and thought he was safe with JoAnna. Where are you?”

“A few of us are combing the outskirts of the compound.”

“Why? Do you think someone took him?”

He paused, and the line was eerily silent.

“Paul! Talk to me,” I begged.

“Right now, we have to entertain any and all possibilities. But we’ll find him, Aspen. I promise you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Again there was silence. We both knew there was no guarantee we’d ever see our little boy again.

“Please meet me at the park,” I said. “I have to see you.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. We’ll find him, Aspen. We will.”

“Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it true.”

I disconnected the call and paced the playground, waiting for my husband to arrive. In the distance, sirens could be heard. The people gathered in the park turned as one to gape at the police car that drove down the main road of our community.

Detective Cooke!

He parked the car and approached the group of men standing by the old metal slide. He didn’t look my way, which surprised me since I was standing just a few feet from where he parked his car. But when I heard him speak, I realized why he hadn’t headed in my direction. He was protecting me, protecting our alliance.

“What are you doing here?” one of the men asked, derision in his deep voice.

Police officers rarely visited our compound. They weren’t welcome and were rarely summoned since the Prophet was the law in our eyes.

“I had an anonymous call about a missing child.”

“We have it under control,” another man said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“That very well may be the case, but I’m here to investigate just the same. I have to take every call seriously, and that’s what I intend to do. Who can tell me more about the missing child?”

Several of those near Jonathan pointed in my direction, and one man muttered, “That’s his mother.”

The detective approached me with neutral eyes, pretending we’d never met before. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry this has happened. Can you tell me more about your child? I want to help find him if I can.”

“H-his name is Jeremiah. He’s two years old with blond hair, bright blue eyes. He, um . . . he was wearing overalls, tan ones, and . . . I can’t remember what color shirt—”

“That’s all right; it’s a start. Give me a second while I call it in, okay?”

“Of course. Thank you, Officer.”

“The name’s Jonathan Cooke. I’m sorry to be meeting you under such circumstances, but we’re gonna do everything we can to get your boy home safe, all right?”

I nodded quickly, placing a hand over my mouth as tears fell that had been waiting to be released since I’d approached the park. Paul’s truck pulled up next to Jonathan’s squad car. He slammed his door before he stalked toward the detective.

“Excuse me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m Detective Cooke, and I’m here to help find a missing child.”

“He’s my
son
.” Paul’s eyes were wild, fierce, paranoid. He, just like everyone else on the compound, didn’t trust law enforcement, and was less than thrilled to have a Gentile insinuating himself in the search.

“He’s here to help,” I said, placing a hand on Paul’s arm.

Jonathan stared at my fingertips resting on Paul for just a second too long, and I panicked.

“Did you . . . did you call him?” Paul glared at me.

My throat went dry, and I knew I had to lie to my husband. I opened my mouth to speak, but Jonathan beat me to it.

“Actually, the call we received was from a male.”

“Oh.” Paul’s eyes softened and he took my hand in his. “Listen, Officer, I appreciate you coming all the way down here, but we can handle this. We always do.”

“I understand that, sir. Please know I mean no disrespect; I just want to help, that’s all. And by law, I’m required to investigate any phone call we receive. I hope you can respect that.”

Paul nodded, turning to me. “I’m going to search the perimeter again. Will you be all right? Where are the girls?”

“They’re with Pennie. And I’ll be fine. We have to find him, Paul, we have to find our baby.”

My knees weakened and I collapsed, feeling faint. Paul held me in his arms as I broke down, grasping at the coarse fabric of his cotton shirt.

“Find my baby,” I repeated over and over. “Find my baby.”

• • •

“Aspen, come home,” Paul said from the warmth of his truck. “The girls have been asking for you for hours.”

Darkness had fallen, and although I’d wandered miles from our house, I couldn’t stop searching. I had to find him. Paul drove slowly along the road, lighting my path with the glow of his headlights.

“I can’t,” I croaked, my voice hoarse.

I’d called out Jeremiah’s name so many times. My body, my hands, my face, everything was numb.

Detective Cooke had left hours ago with several pictures of Jeremiah that I kept in my wallet, but promised that several squad cars would comb the area, looking for him. The large crowd had dispersed hours ago as our neighbors and friends were able to resume their lives, forgetting all about my little boy.

But I couldn’t. If I went home, I’d be abandoning my baby. No, I couldn’t go home without him. I didn’t care how long it took me.

“Aspen, please,” Paul begged. “It’s not safe for you to be out there alone. And you have to . . . you have to kiss them good night.”

“You go. Kiss them for me,” I whispered. “I can’t leave him.”

“You’re not helping Jeremiah by wandering the streets. Come home.”

“N-no,” I said, my teeth chattering from the cold.

Paul stopped the truck and killed the engine before hopping out to run to me. “Get in the truck, Aspen, I’m begging you. You’ll catch your death out here.”

Another set of headlights appeared and as the vehicle approached us, I recognized it immediately. It belonged to the Prophet.

He stopped his truck and opened his door. Two tiny feet could be seen hopping down from the cab of the truck. Those tiny feet were attached to two little legs, and then a body with two little arms and the most precious face I’d ever seen came into view.

“Jeremiah!” I yelled, running to my little boy and wrapping him up in my arms, holding him so close I could feel his heart pounding behind his overalls. I pressed my lips to the top of his head, kissing him again and again.

Thank you, Heavenly Father. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

“Mama, why you hold so tight?” Jeremiah said with a laugh. “Are you gonna tickle me?”

“Clarence, I can’t thank you enough. How in the world did you find him?” Paul asked, his arms wrapped around me.

I looked up from Jeremiah to see the Prophet standing before us with a smug smile on his face.

He shrugged. “Just fortunate, I guess.”

“But where was he? Where did you find him?”

“I guess I knew just where to look,” he said slowly, his eyes boring into mine, and I knew exactly what that meant.

The Prophet had taken him, taken my baby. He was making good on his promise months ago at Jordan’s wedding, sending me a message. And I received it loud and clear.

I pulled Jeremiah closer and stared at the Prophet.