The White Carnation (36 page)

What the hell's the Great Burning?

The sound of Mary's voice startled her.

“Please, Mother, forgive me, but may I go and relieve myself?”

Mother Kate scowled but nodded, and one of the servants released Mary to take her back to her stall.

It could be worse; we could be led around on a bridle like a real horse. Well, if I'm the horse and Jimmy's the jockey, he's in for an uncomfortable ride.

“We'll have lunch now, and since it's raining outside, afterwards, you'll meditate on your duties in your stalls.”

“Please. Mother Kate,” Faye said. “I have a question. You mentioned the Great Burning. What is that?”

Mother smiled. “As He did in the time of Noah, God will unleash a cleansing on this nation and all of the Earth. Then, he used water. This time, fire will purify and remove the vermin infesting it. The worthy will survive, and the Chosen will rule in His name. Now, your meal is ready. Silence, please.”

Faye shivered. These people were planning an attack on American soil? God help them all. She had to get away immediately. Rob had to know about this. She'd come back for Mary and the others.

Two hours later, Faye sat on her bunk trying to knit the heavy shawl she'd been told she'd need in Eden, no closer to devising an escape plan. She'd stood on every piece of furniture in her stall, trying to get high enough to climb over the wall. She'd thought to pile the dresser on top of the commode only to discover it was bolted to the floor and couldn't be moved, just like her bed when she'd tried to see if she could use it as a ladder. She threw down the needles and yarn in disgust.

She had less than thirty-six hours before she and the others would be relocated to that place in the mountains. It was unlikely she'd be able to find a way to escape this place. She didn't even know where the children were being kept. The Promised Land had to be in the Rockies, but that could be anywhere from Alaska to Mexico. How would Rob ever find her?

She hadn't realized how much he'd come to mean to her until she'd been torn away from him like this. He soothed her when she was frightened, picked her up when she was down, and forced her to look at things differently. He made her a better investigator, a better reporter, a better person. He made her care about someone other than herself. Why had it taken her so long to see it?

Eighteen months ago, she'd been angry and hurt, and in her stupidity, she'd tossed away the best thing she'd ever had. Rob might not have been perfect, but he'd loved her, wanted to marry her, and she'd been too foolish and hell-bent on maintaining her job and her independence to realize exactly what the commitment he asked for implied. Instead, she'd let her insecurity rule and believed he'd betrayed her. The damage her father's suicide had inflicted on her psyche and personality was as bad if not worse than the bullshit Mother Kate spouted when she read from the manifesto.

Eventually, someone would find this place. Perhaps she could leave him a message, warn him of the danger, but how? Pens and pencils weren't allowed in the stalls. Maybe she could rip a page out of her manifesto and leave it under the bed. The book was in the other room, but she'd try and sneak it back in tonight. No doubt the punishment for defacing the holy book involved several lashes, but if she could leave a clue, each stroke of the whip would be worth it.

If she managed to escape from Eden, would she find her way back alone or succumb to the dangers out there? If the Promised Land was located around a hot spring in Alaska, or a cold spring in Mexico, the climate surrounding them would be harsh. Anywhere else in the Rockies, she'd face wildcats, bears, wolves, snakes … even with survivalist training it might not be enough, especially if the two-legged predators decided to hunt her down. And if she escaped after the Great Burning started, she'd be too late, and Rob would be dead.

She'd never be held in his strong arms again, never feel the gentle touch of his callused hands on her body, never be transported into oblivion by his lovemaking. He'd never see the child she carried, the one she prayed was his and not Jimmy's.

Oh God, Rob, I love you, and I'll never get the chance to tell you so.

She threw herself down on the bed and started to cry, allowing the pillow to muffle the sound. Crying was another punishable offense.

Rob stormed out of the elevator ahead of Tom and over to the unmarked sedan they usually used.

“Okay, you son of a bitch,” he said, grabbing Tom by the front of his newly pressed suit. “I want some goddamn answers, and I want them now or I'll rip your frigging head off.”

Tom shoved him away with a surprising amount of strength. “Back off, asshole. You want answers, I'll give them to you. But not here.”

Tom straightened his jacket and walked around to the driver's side. “Are you getting in, or what?”

Rob glared at his partner, debated crossing around to the front of the car and beating the answers out of him, and decided against it. Tom had thirty pounds on him, and despite his age, the man was in great shape and could take down a crazed bull. Rob opened the car door and got in.

They drove down Prentiss Street, inching toward the harbor thanks to bumper-to-bumper traffic. Too frustrated and furious to keep quiet any longer, he slammed the dash. “Who the hell are you working for? I hope the bastard's made it worth your while because I'll make it my life's mission to see you get jail time as an accessory.”

“You bastard,” Tom ground out between clenched teeth. “How dare you accuse me of being dirty. You don't get it, do you?” Tom made a sudden right turn and pulled over to the side of the road. “Get out,” he said, doing exactly that. Tom crossed the street and leaned against a brick wall.

What the hell's he playing at?
Rob followed his partner across the street, hoping the son of a bitch hadn't called ahead and someone wasn't waiting to add him to the ever-growing pile of bodies. He scanned the area, but other than a mother and toddler eating ice cream, the street was deserted.

Rob neared the man who'd always had his back and read sorrow on his face and his stomach clenched. Could he be wrong? There'd been so many damn red herrings in this case …

“You really think it's me?” Tom asked, and the disappointment in his voice was palpable. “Why, Rob? We've been partners almost two years. You've saved my life twice, and you think I'd pay you back like this?”

“If it isn't you, then how is this bastard always one step ahead of us? When I mentioned my theory about the resemblance, you did everything in your power to shut me down and make me doubt myself. You knew about the DNA test I'd asked Amos to run. Why else would the bastard step up his agenda unless he knew I was onto him? Hell, you may have kept me at the station arguing late into the night to give him more time to act, to make sure I'd sleep in … and now, when I know the woman in that photograph isn't Faye, and that the surveillance picture wasn't taken from the angle Pierce claims it was, you won't let me tell Clark or Pierce they've got someone on the inside feeding them bad data.” Rob stared out at the street. He'd never been so angry, so hurt. This man was his friend.

“The squad room is bugged,” Tom said quietly.

Rob rubbernecked him. “What?”

“Trevor had a special team come in and search the place about three weeks ago. They found four devices. One on each of our phones, another near the coffee machine, and a fourth one in the bathroom. Hell of a thing when a man can't take a shit without an audience.”

“You mean they're still there?”

“Yup. Trevor left them in place, and we work around them.”

“How do I know you didn't put them there?”

“You know, Rob, you can be a real asshole at times. You're out of your mind with worry right now, but if you ever accuse me of taking a bribe again, I'll rip you a new one. I didn't put them there. You can be sure of that, first, because I know zip about that kind of technology and you know it, and second, they're standard FBI issue. When I confronted Trevor, and I was almost as pleasant as you've been, he wasn't happy.”

“How'd you find the bug on your phone?”

“I didn't. I'd been talking to my wife about dinner plans. A couple of hours later, I was down in records, and Wilson, the new transferee there, congratulated me on my anniversary. I found it odd since I didn't think the guy knew me well enough to know that. Obviously someone told him. So I got thinking about the mole. I went to Trevor and accused him of spying on me. One thing led to another and we found not one, but three people on BPD, Wilson included, who could be suspects, but there had to be an FBI mole, too, and one quite high up in the organization. Trevor added two and two together and got five. That's when he started running parallel ops. What did I tell you about not trusting a man who couldn't iron a shirt? Camouflage comes in many different styles, pal. Now, do you still want to beat the tar out of me, or shall we go check out our floater and see how Pierce is going to trap himself?”

“You never trusted that bastard from the start. Hell, it all makes sense. He was always first on the scene.” He raised his hand, made a fist and aimed at the wall, trying to relieve his frustration.

“Don't do it. You'd break your hand, and you'll need it to fire your gun,” Tom said, grabbing his arm before he could release the punch.

“If he's known for three weeks, why didn't Trevor stop Pierce? He could've prevented Faye's kidnapping,” Rob said, redirecting his anger from his partner to Trevor.

“Because he didn't realize it was Pierce himself until this morning. You saw the report from Langley. There's no one within twenty miles of Slocum. We can't tip our hand just yet, not until we know for sure where the hell she is. Besides, if we'd told you we suspected Pierce was in bed with the Harvester that first night, you'd have killed him and we'd have nowhere to look. That horse farm may not be in Slocum, but it can't be that far away.”

“But that's not her. They may have the other women, but Faye isn't in that photograph.”

Tom laughed. “I know that, and so does Trevor. He told me last week she'd cut her hair. I'm not the enemy here; I'm your partner. You either believe me, or you don't. I'm on your side. I always have been.”

Rob looked into Tom's eyes, saw the honesty and integrity he'd always associated with the man, and hung his head. “Damn, I just did exactly what Faye did to me last year—jumped to conclusions based on circumstantial evidence. I'm sorry.”

“Water under the bridge. If that bastard had my wife, I'd come unglued, too.”

• • •

“It's Eloise,” Rob stated bluntly as he and Tom reentered the squad room. “Tattoo is unmistakable. Throat cut like the others. Her clothes were intact, so I don't think she was raped. Amos should have her shortly, and he'll be able to tell you more.”

Pierce stood by the whiteboard, and Rob swallowed the waves of fury threatening to swamp him. He didn't have much of a poker face, so he hoped the agent would assume his anger was directed at someone other than him. Yanking open the drawer, Rob put his weapon away and slammed his fist on his desk. “How can these people stay one step ahead of us? We needed her.”

Pierce walked over to him. Visions of his hands wrapped around the bastard's throat almost blinded Rob.

“I told you how,” Pierce said and looked dismissively at Tom and then around the room. You've got a dirty cop here.”

He plays the role so well, I could almost believe him.

Trevor frowned. “I don't like this. It looks as if they're tying up loose ends—getting out of Dodge and leaving behind no one who can identify them. While you were gone, I had my techs run the faces of the women in that shot Pierce showed us earlier. We've identified Ruth Hamilton, but none of the other women show up on our missing person registry, so we've expanded the search. As far as the men go, a few matched New Mexico DMV files, including Peter Colchester, Jimmy's brother.”

“And these bastards had their sister killed? What kind of sick sons of bitches do that?”

The door opened to admit Calvin Wright, the special ops team leader who'd be leading the rescue.

Trevor looked at his watch. “It's two forty-five. Let's get the show on the road.”

Rob followed the others into the larger room for the briefing. Calvin walked over to the computer set up at the front of the briefing room. Pierce stood near the front, hanging on the man's every word.
What if Tom and Trevor are wrong? What if it isn't him and someone is setting him up?
Rob was convinced his partner wasn't the mole, but what about one of the other men in the room?

“Okay, people. Here's what we're going to do ...”

When the briefing was over, Trevor and Rob walked over to Calvin.

“Well done, Lieutenant,” Rob said. “Impressive.”

“Yes,” Pierce said, joining them. “My men and I couldn't have come up with a better plan. They'll never know what hit them.”

The smug look on Pierce's face convinced Rob that Trevor was right. Rob fisted his hands so tightly, his nails drew blood. Tom's hand on his shoulder kept him from reaching out and ripping out Pierce's throat.

“That's what we're hoping,” Trevor said. “Now, are you heading back to Slocum or will you take a nap? We've got nine hours before we go in.”

“I'll head back to the ranch and prepare my men. I want to make sure they know the plan too. I'll see you all later, gentlemen.”

He saluted and left the room.

“I want ten minutes alone with him, Trevor,” Rob whispered, “and then you can have what's left of him.”

“Are we secure?” Calvin asked when only Rob, Tom, and Trevor were left in the room.

“We are,” Trevor answered. “Now, what are we really going to do?”