“So do I. But if we’re lucky, he’ll help us stop this thing from going any further, and prison might be the thing that saves him,” Hunter said.
She smiled and he arched a brow.
“I was just hoping that my feeling bad for him wasn’t a mistake,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, empathy isn’t a mistake. It’s a good human quality.”
“Well, let’s get started on this, shall we?” She stood and went over to the counter, where there were paper cups next to the coffeepot. “I’m taking along a coffee. Can I get you one, too?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to grab my things. Your bag ready?”
“On the bed.”
“I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” She started pouring the coffees and, thinking aloud, said, “It’s a good thing we travel well. I’m starting to think we’ve slept together over half of the state.”
Her words came out entirely wrong; she turned to stare at him in horror.
But he laughed.
“We do it well,” he said lightly. “We do it well.”
11
Fall 1993
Sam
Time. Seconds stretched out. All life was a matter of seconds.
Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and then days...
And finally, in the end, a man’s life would be measured.
Sam found himself praying; he no longer knew what he believed, except that there was a higher power, and he knew now, with crystal clarity, that a man’s life was not measured by riches or power but by his actions and reactions—and his common decency to his fellow man.
Nice realization to make while he stood here, holding what was most important in life to him, his wife and his child.
And praying.
If I am going to die, that will be fine. I’ve been a fool. I knew there was something wrong, but I understand too clearly how Jessie felt, as well. We needed something different in life. We stumbled upon a really wrong different, and now...
We’re both aware we might die for our mistakes. But please, God... Save the life of our child.
There was another whisper of movement in the leaves.
Jessie looked at him, her beautiful eyes filled with fear.
He brought his fingers to his lips, warning her. “Stay still! Just stay still. We have to wait and watch,” he breathed into her ear.
Someone was coming, but he hoped it was the agent who had slipped like an eel into their commune—and slipped out just as easily. The man who would be their savior.
For a moment Sam worried he’d been tricked. That the man who had identified himself as an FBI agent was really just a plant, someone to find out who might betray Brother William and his core of deacons. His...henchmen.
The movement in the trees continued.
Sam strained his eyes to see. There was someone there. They weren’t clad in the casual everyday clothing of the members of the commune.
It was a hunter, he thought.
Except they were on federal land. He didn’t believe hunting was legal here, and yet the man moving through the trees ahead of them was in forest-camouflage pants and jacket, a tan baseball cap on his head. Sam held a small camera in his hand. It was all they had taken with them. Their clothing, Cameron’s toys, everything had been left behind. That was the only way to escape.
He had managed to secretly get the camera. The main members of their colony—as Brother William called it—didn’t have personal equipment like cameras. Technology was a distraction from work and from the love and togetherness they shared.
But on one of the rare supply runs into the nearest town, Sam had managed to buy a little point-and-shoot camera and a roll of film at a drugstore. He had taken pictures of damning evidence against Brother William, shots sneaked quickly in the office of letters—people swearing that they will not leave the colony. And even once during a gathering when Brother William had been choosing a young—underage—girl to be “honored” by his touch.
More than that, he had images of some of the paperwork that showed the vast amount of money that Brother William was making off his followers: investments, assets, all handed over to the colony. And payments to his henchmen and others. Those who carried out Brother William’s dirty works received great rewards on earth, as well as those promised in heaven.
If they were caught, the camera would mean a horrendous punishment for them. For him and Jessie and for Cameron. He knew now that Brother William would kill them.
He had risked their lives for this. Jessie had known all along. She’d agreed. Cameron wouldn’t have understood, although Sam thought his son was special, smart, even at his young age.
Cameron was suspicious of those they were supposed to obey and follow. When another young girl had been punished for not doing her share of work in the fields, Cameron had rushed forward, saying he would pick up the slack. He’d even volunteered to take the seven stripes on the back that were the child’s corporal punishment. The memory made Sam flush with pride and anger all over again.
Sam barely dared move, but now he looked for a place where he might secrete the camera.
God, he thought, if nothing else...if You’re there, I beg of You, spare the life of my son.
He managed to twist slightly and ease the camera into a thicket where the black case was hidden completely by vines and brush.
Movement again... Closer now. Someone was there.
A savior, offering them new lives?
Or a murderer, bringing death?
Sam strained his eyes.
“Sam?”
He wasn’t sure at first whether it had been Jessie who said his name so softly.
Not Jessie.
She, too, was staring at the man who began to emerge from the cover of the trees.
A man carrying a gun.
12
Artie looked somewhat better than he had the night before.
He was in an orange jumpsuit, but he’d had a shower and washed and brushed his hair.
They met first with a Dr. Kashi in the hallway before they went in to speak with Artie. Dr. Kashi had seen the young man the night before; because of the circumstances of his arrest and his state of mind, Dr. Kashi recommended that he be on a suicide watch.
“This kid has suffered from anxiety disorder for a long time. He has trouble focusing. He was horrified when I first suggested he take pills to calm down and focus on a conversation, but then he wanted to try. He looked at me so hopefully. I have a feeling he comes from a family, perhaps a society, where anything that is perceived as a mental abnormality is ignored or frowned upon. Any use of drugs is forbidden. I’m not for pushing pharmaceutical intervention—we did go through a time when it was too easy to think every problem could be solved by popping a little white pill. But some people seriously benefit from medication and Artie is one of them. But now, he’s anxious—almost excited—about seeing a therapist and maybe having a life. I’m not a judge or a jury, but I hope they go easy on this kid.”