The White Carnation (35 page)

“You know, Pierce, I may be an old cop,” Tom said, “but you're making as much sense as one of those damn 3D pictures. I'm completely lost. Either there were people there or there weren't. Make up your mind.”

“My boys found an old tunnel—maybe from the Revolutionary War or part of the Civil War's Underground Railroad. It leads out into the woods, and from the number of tire tracks, the citizens of Slocum came and went as freely as they wanted. We thought we'd found the new home of the New Horizon cult, but now we aren't so sure.”

Pierce slammed his fist on the desk, and Rob jumped. He'd never seen the man get this excited.

“I think we've stumbled onto something else, something far more dangerous. This is some kind of anti-American terrorist group, and we think the mayor is the leader. Jimmy Farley seems to be one of his right-hand men. They're armed, they have Mary and Faye and a few other pregnant women, and a whole lot of little ones. I was talking to my contact at Homeland Security, and they've managed to track fertilizer sales way above and beyond what Easton would need for the horse farm since he's not growing anything other than hay, and the farm has its own large orders. If we're right, they have the stuff on hand to make enough explosives to blow up the city of Boston and who knows where else, and whoever they are, they're on the move. This morning, the women are still at the horse farm, but the other farm's deserted. About fifty people gone, just like that. My men are all watching the ranch as we speak. From what Trevor said, we've lost almost two hundred domestic terrorists. How?” He raised his finger and pointed around the room. “Because you've got a goddamn mole, a traitor, in your midst who's feeding information to the enemy.”

Rob stared agape at Pierce, surprise and concern warring within him. For a minute, when he'd seen the picture with that woman mistakenly identified as Faye, he'd suspected Pierce was the mole, since Trevor was the only one who knew her hair had been cut, but after the man's outburst … If the group holding Mary moved on before they could rescue those women and children, they'd lose any chance of finding Faye. There was no way he could let that happen. He didn't want to be looking down at another body in a white gown, especially not hers, not now, when he was beginning to realize how much she truly belonged in his life, what he was willing to do to fight for her.

Voicing his suspicions about a traitor in their midst like this was risky. If the man was among those present, he could bolt before they could identify him, and that would be disastrous. But Trevor nodded as if he understood Rob's unspoken words. The BAU's top man looked as exhausted as they all did, his face even grimmer than it had been before.
Why didn't I notice how beat the guy was earlier?
Trevor surveyed the room, nodded to a few agents who'd just arrived, and then he approached Pierce.

“Thank you, Agent Pierce,” Trevor said, his voice as cold as steel. “I'll take it from here. I'd hoped we'd find the New Horizon group in its entirety. Last night, Lynette James, the forensic anthropologist from the Jeffersonian we sent to the New Mexico compound, messaged me. They've found ninety bodies interred in the cemetery there—men, women, and children. She's sending the remains back to Washington where full forensic autopsies will be performed, including drug tests.” He shook his head. “It's possible the Harvester is simply continuing a tradition or a ritual that's been handed down to him, and that scares the hell out of me. If this isn't the New Horizon group—and you don't think it is—then we're looking at a dangerous offshoot of the sect, one bent on widespread violence. Kidnapping women, impregnating them, killing them, and keeping their children as a means of quickly increasing their population is sick. It stops now. We're going in as soon as it's dark.”

Pierce rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.

“Yes! That's what I hoped you'd say. Let's take the bastards down and get the women and children back. I'll get back and tell my boys to expect company.”

Trevor moved closer and put his hand around Pierce's shoulder. “That's a damn fine job you've done. Don't let anything slip out there.” Trevor indicated the hallway outside the briefing room. “If you're right about that mole, we don't want the word getting out. We don't want to walk into a trap.”

“Sure thing. Who's storming the place?”

“Special ops is leading us in with a few select men.”

Pierce smiled as if he was proud of himself. This was clearly what he wanted. Pierce put the first image back up. Rob stared at the red circle and then at the time stamp on the image. He frowned.

“When's the next flyover?” he asked one of the computer techs.

“Two hours.”

“Okay, people,” Trevor said. “You know what to do. Our priority is to get the women and children out safely. We meet in the briefing room in three hours. Pierce, wait until after the briefing to leave, will you? Special ops will explain how they're going to handle this. Get a bite to eat and some coffee.”

Trevor led Pierce out of the room, and Rob continued to stare at the image on the screen. Who were these people? Their clothes resembled those worn by pioneers. He remembered Faye's comment about the movie
The Boys from Brazil.
What kind of man controlled people so completely, they'd kidnap, murder, and commit treason?

There was definitely something here that didn't add up. It wasn't just Faye's hair. He was on his way out of the squad room when Tom stepped into the doorway, blocking his exit.

“There's a problem here,” Rob said, trying to move around his partner. “I've got to talk to Trevor. Where is he?”

“In the break room with Pierce, but you can't talk to him now. We've got to go. Don't worry. Trevor's got all this under control.”

“He doesn't,” Rob whispered angrily. “Those pictures are fakes. Someone's feeding us a load of crap. I don't know who that woman is, but it isn't Faye.”

“Will you keep it down?” Tom hissed. “Trevor knows, so leave it alone.” Tom walked over to his desk and spoke loudly. “We've got to roll. We still work for Boston PD, and they've pulled another floater out of the Fort Point Channel. They think it's Eloise Colchester.”

Confused but determined to get to the bottom of this, Rob recovered his weapon from his drawer and followed Tom out of the station. There was only one reason his partner wouldn't let him speak to Trevor: Tom was the leak. He'd better have some decent answers because if he didn't, Eloise Colchester wouldn't be the only body in the harbor.

• • •

Faye stood tied between Mary and Ruth in the exercise yard, with Elisa on the end. She didn't like wearing two shackles, but this allowed her to be closer to her old friend. She was fairly certain Mary and Elisa weren't brainwashed by all this, although Mary had been here more than three months. Faye's concern was for Ruth. With the twins and the fact that she'd been part of the cult for at least nine months, listening to those messages day in, day out might have had an impact. While Faye had yet to come up with a plan, knowing they were scheduled to leave here in two days, she wasn't ready to give up. Giving up meant accepting the fact she'd never see Rob again, and she couldn't do that.

“I need to talk to Ruth,” she murmured to Mary, making sure Mother Kate couldn't see her. “Can you distract Amalie for me? I have a feeling she'd go straight to the old bitch if she heard me.”

Mary nodded. “Be careful,” she whispered. “Amalie was born into this nonsense. She believes everything they say.” She turned to Elisa on Ruth's other side effectively hiding Ruth and Faye from Amalie's sight. “How's the morning sickness, Elisa?”

“It's getting better, thanks. The peppermint tea and ginger help,” Elisa answered and soon, Amalie was involved in their discussion.

Faye sidled closer to Ruth. She needed to know why Ruth wasn't as dead as the other mothers who'd contributed children to Jimmy's family.

“You gave birth six months ago, so why are you still here?” Faye whispered, well aware this was one of the topics that was taboo.

“I can't leave my babies,” Ruth answered softly. “If the price of staying near them is to live like this, so be it. I don't know how the others could leave their children, but Meredith needed medical attention. She's a bleeder, and Mother Kate did her best, but she needed a hospital. I'm glad the Prophet let her take her baby.” She lowered her voice even more. “She swore the child didn't belong to James, and apparently the Prophet believed her. I wish I'd thought to do the same. I don't know how I'll survive when it's my time to breed again. Hell, I don't even know how I got pregnant the first time.”

Faye smiled weakly. Obviously, the women weren't privy to what really happened to those who chose to leave, and, like telling Mary how her mother had really died, that part of the truth wouldn't help now. When Faye got them out of here, and she wouldn't leave without all of the members of her so-called family, including the children, she'd share what had happened to the others and Lucy. If she couldn't escape from here, she'd do it after they were relocated. She'd bide her time. From what Amalie said, more deaths could be avoided if Faye convinced Mary and Elisa to stay with the cult, but how could she manage that when their time to converse was so public and limited?

“There's no mystery to that. He drugged you,” she said, “and the drug made you, and the rest of us, compliant.”

Ruth nodded. “I figured as much. He must've put something in my drink. I attended a wedding around the time I figure I got pregnant. If I'm lucky, he'll drug me before it's my time to conceive again. The thought of him touching me makes me sick.”

“No whispering, Ruth,” Amalie said. “You know the rules.”

“I'm sorry,” Faye spoke up loudly. “My bad. We were speaking softly so as not to interfere with your conversation.”

Amalie frowned. “Wives aren't allowed to have secrets from one another. What were you talking about?”

“Faye asked about Paul and Lucas,” Ruth said.

Amalie nodded. “I see. You're fortunate. I believe yours are the first twins born to the Chosen.”

“Tell me, Amalie, are Peter and James the only Chosen?” Faye asked.

“No. There are five other sons of the Creator in the process of forming their own families. The Prophet, our spiritual guide, has gone ahead to the Promised Land to prepare our new homes. Each of the Chosen goes to a new village. I go to Haven, you're bound for Eden. The others are in transit elsewhere, but we'll all meet soon and claim what's rightfully ours.”

Who the hell are these people? I've got enough material with these fruitcakes to write two Pulitzer-Prize stories—one about the Harvester and another about the strange culture he spawned.

“Why are we shackled? If we're loving wives, why tie us up?”

Amalie smiled as if she were indulging a child, and Faye suppressed the urge to kick her.

“For the children's protection, of course. Sometimes a handmaiden is unhappy and wants to go back to her family. She's free to do so after the children are born, but the seed must stay here. Ruth chose to remain with us, as did my handmaids, so my foursome is complete, unless the Creator intends otherwise. If Elisa or Mary wish to return to their families, James will seek a replacement. It's harder for your husband to find suitable handmaids since he prefers they all look like you. I didn't see it at first, but I do now. He must love you deeply.”

Faye swallowed and hoped Ruth, Elisa, and Mary hadn't understood the implications of what Amalie had said. She'd rather not have them hate her and blame her for this. She was doing a good job of that all on her own.

The women belonging to Peter didn't resemble one another, although all of them were white, as were all the other people Faye had seen here. Foursome—the term made her laugh. As if they were ever likely to play golf.

“Come, mares,” Mother Kate called. “It's time for your lessons.”

The women were led into the communal hall, unshackled from one another, and retied to the floor. Once they were settled, Mother Kate began. “Today's lesson is a review of the brethren's social laws for the benefit of our two new mares.” Faye listened intently. Know your enemy, sure, but the more she heard, the more convinced she was that these people were not only brainwashed but dangerous—far more dangerous than she'd suspected.

New Horizon society was a strange type of caste system, one in which her position as wife to a Chosen set her apart almost like royalty. The color of the clothing worn by the women, definitely second-class citizens in this chicken outfit, denoted status. Yellow dresses indicated wives, blue or pink a handmaid who'd given birth, and green, one still pregnant. A family consisted of the Chosen, his four mares, the children he'd sired, and various others labeled according to their occupations. While all women dedicated themselves to populating the colonies—because that's what these families were—they also had daily tasks.

Women didn't leave the compound after they mated. Men, such as the Chosen or Elders, had jobs on the outside, but their prime responsibility was to protect the family. A person was born into a caste and that never changed. The brethren were white. No one with the blood from any other race would ever be acceptable in their eyes.

Hitler would've loved these guys. Talk about neo-Nazis.

Faye homed in on the topographic map Mother Kate unfurled on the portable easel. It showed a valley with a river and a small lake in the center, surrounded by mountains—somewhere in the Rockies maybe? There were no state lines or highways marked to give her bearings.

“This is the Promised Land, and its seven villages. Here we'll survive the Great Burning and give shelter to those worthy ones who eventually find their way to us. The climate is harsh, but the land is rich and will sustain us. The journey there will be a long one.”