“Let her keep the necklaces,” Nicole said. “It sounds like giving them to the pastor is part of Mackenzie’s plan to make amends for her earlier defiance.”
With his colossal ego, I bet Pastor Bill hadn’t shared the details of our arrangement with anyone, not even his first wife. Far better for him to let everybody believe that he’d broken my insubordinate spirit during his visit to my cell. He’d expect me to make nice in public, then we could play our twisted little dominance game in private.
Twenty-four hours from now, he’d be dead. I might be, too, if my plans went awry. No doubt his deacons would kill me if they found their beloved leader’s body before I could escape the camp.
Half an hour ago, standing before a full-length mirror in Pastor Bill’s lavish bungalow, I’d tilted my head back and forth, studying my reflection. I scarcely recognized myself. I had the same light brown hair, the same gray eyes, and the same full lips. Yet something about my face—the planes and angles perhaps—looked unfamiliar, as if the muscles and ligaments beneath my skin had subtly altered, tightening here, slackening there, contorting my face into that of a stranger.
I’m unraveling the ties that bind me to this life.
Is this how Ripper felt before he went on a mission? Determined to succeed, hoping to survive, but willing to die if that’s what it took to achieve his goal?
I had to be careful not to arouse suspicion. Nothing about my demeanor could hint at my plans. If I looked anxious or furtive or angry, Pastor Bill’s people would smell a rat.
You’d think it would be hard to keep up the ruse with the possibility of my impending death hanging over me, but I was oddly unruffled. My heart didn’t race. I wasn’t gasping for breath. Instead of flailing about, wondering what I could do to save Hannah and to make things right, I had a concrete plan. A mission. That certainty brought peace of mind.
“I suppose that’ll be okay,” Rebecca said, her lips twisted into a petulant expression.
Bet she was a mean girl back in high school.
“Your bath is ready, Kenzie.” Nicole swished her hand through the water. I glanced into the tub where bubbles swirled around a tennis ball-sized orb. I inhaled slowly, filling my nostrils with the scent of orange blossoms.
“You’ll want your skin to smell like flowers on your wedding night,” Rebecca said. The saccharine tone did nothing to disguise her spite.
Had the bitch dug through my backpack? I’m surprised she didn’t keep the fancy bath bomb for herself, but maybe she’d rather deploy it as a weapon against a potential rival for the pastor’s attentions. Remind me that she could take anything that was mine. Remind me of my past life and everything I’d lost.
I’m going to be all soft and slippery and sweet smelling when I get out of the water.
I gripped the edge of the copper tub. The fragrance of orange blossoms was inextricably linked to my memories of my last night with Ripper, when I’d teased him with those words. Memory could be my undoing, the only thing capable of piercing the armor I’d wrapped around my heart.
Later. I would close my eyes and think about Ripper later, after I took care of Pastor Bill.
“It smells wonderful.” I climbed into the tub and sank to my chin into the warm water.
Nicole rubbed a bar of soap over a wet washcloth. “Hold out your arm, please.” She scrubbed my limbs, as if I were a toddler incapable of doing it for myself. “Dunk your head.”
I obeyed, then sat up straight, water streaming over my face and back. Nicole poured shampoo onto her palm, then began to massage it into my damp hair. The scent of coconut and ginger wafted through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if protecting them from the lather, but it wasn’t soap that made my eyes sting. No. It was the memory of Ripper’s strong hands working the same coconut-ginger shampoo through my wet hair.
I ducked under the water again. Sitting up, I sluiced the remaining lather from my hair.
“Justine, get a bucket of water to rinse the shampoo out of Kenzie’s hair,” Rebecca barked. No question who was the top dog in their relationship. Justine scurried from the cabin, returning a few minutes later.
Rebecca dumped a bucket full of cold water over my head. “There you go,” she said sweetly.
Sputtering from the shocking inundation, I stood and stepped out of the tub. I’d had more than enough of this infernal bath. Nicole and Justine rubbed me down with a pair of thick towels.
Rebecca’s gaze swept up and down my naked form, lingering on the laceration on my shoulder, the angry red burn on my calf, and the fading bruises that still mottled my body.
She smirked, obviously unimpressed.
Nicole wrapped me in a plush, white terry cloth robe, similar to the one I’d donned at the Cherry Blossom Bed & Breakfast. Pastor Bill’s people must have raided one of those swanky ski resorts and hauled off furniture, bedding, rugs, and fluffy robes.
The rest of The Golden Rule Church Camp was rustic and strictly utilitarian. Pastor Bill’s private cabin was kitted out with a carved mahogany, four-poster bed with matching nightstands and dressers, a brocade sofa, French Aubusson rugs, and oil paintings. All too fussy and ostentatious for my taste, but—unsurprisingly—not for old Bill’s.
“You mustn’t see your groom before the ceremony, so you’ll stay here,” Rebecca said. She looked at her watch. “It’s a little after one. We’ll be back at five to help you dress. You should try to nap.” She glanced at the four-poster bed. “Justine put fresh sheets on the bed this morning. Try not to muss them too much. Bill likes a freshly made bed. It’s one of his little quirks, but I’m sure you’ll learn about all of his...proclivities very soon.” She gestured to Nicole and Justine. “Ladies, we’ll be on our way. Kenzie needs to rest up for her wedding night. Bill can be very exhausting.”
“You’re too kind.” My smile was as fake as hers.
Rebecca bent over and picked up my boots, frowning as she scrutinized them. “So clunky and unfeminine! Totally unsuitable for one of the pastor’s Eves.” She tucked them under her arm. “We’ll bring you something more appropriate to wear for the ceremony.”
“Of course I wouldn’t wear them at my wedding.” My mind scrambled for an excuse to keep the boots and the knife hidden inside. “But old boots would be appropriate for working in the greenhouse. I should keep them.”
Rebecca tilted her head. “Didn’t anyone explain to you how things work around here?” Her condescending tone raised my hackles. “Eves aren’t assigned to jobs. Taking care of Pastor Bill, meeting his needs, is our only occupation. You won’t need these ugly old boots.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. If I made her suspicious, Rebecca might examine the boots and find my concealed knife.
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Rebecca echoed, removing a key from her pocket. Snapping her fingers, she signaled Nicole and Justine to follow her from the cabin. The key jangled in the lock. After a minute, I twisted the knob, confirming that she’d locked me in.
Damn. I had a little less than four hours to find a replacement weapon.
I glanced around the cabin. Pastor Bill must either eat in the dining hall or have his meals sent over from the kitchen. I’d check all the drawers to be sure, but without a kitchenette, the place was unlikely to hold a handy set of knives. I’d start at the bed and work my way around the room.