White Heat
He put down the groceries in his arms and moved to cut her off. She had the keys. “There’s no need to over-react,” he said, sobering in an effort to calm her. “We can’t be estranged when we approach the Covenanters. And there’s nothing else around here. Do you think I would’ve picked this place if I’d had any other choice?”
“I think you feel it’s a big joke that I’m going to be without any personal space—but I’m not laughing.”
“It’s not a joke. I—I’ll sleep on the floor, okay? It’s a job, Rachel, like any other. You can’t tell me you haven’t been in compromising situations before. What makes this one any different?”
That wasn’t hard to answer. He knew working with him was what made it different. But he also knew she’d never admit it.
“I just don’t understand why I couldn’t have handled this alone,” she said. “I work better that way.”
“So you’ve said. But sometimes you have to adjust.”
“That doesn’t include sleeping with my manager!”
He could’ve mentioned that it was a little late to worry about that. After all, she was the one who’d let herself into his condo, removed her clothing and offered him everything she had, including her heart. But he knew the reminder wouldn’t help. It was the fact that they’d been together before that was causing all the trouble now. “Hey, this isn’t about us,” he said. “Our work never is. It’s about doing what we have to. Period. You know that.”
She remained stiff, resistant, so he tried another tack. “Look, I didn’t set you up, okay? You’ve seen what’s available in Portal. This place was all I could get, unless you’d rather camp out under the stars. I figured we’d make improvements when we could—and we will. Until then, I’ll sleep in a bag in the spare room. Nothing’s changed. There’s no problem.”
Her forehead rumpled as she kicked at the dirt, but it wasn’t long before she let him take her suitcase and the keys.
“Lightweight,” he muttered.
“I’m not a lightweight,” she snapped. “It’s the damn heat. It’s insufferable.”
Although it was no longer the hottest part of the day, they were still sweating. “Whatever you say. Sit down while I get the generator going.”
“I don’t need to sit down. I can carry stuff, too,” she said. Then she helped him unload and, using water from two metal barrels provided by the landlord, they began to clean.
By midnight, the temperature hadn’t dropped more than a few degrees. Rachel felt as if she couldn’t breathe in the sweltering heat. L.A. could get warm in the summertime, but the breeze coming in off the ocean generally made for comfortable nights.
The generator whined out back. Supposedly, it was large enough to run the swamp cooler in the hallway, but she’d needed to put some space between her and Nate so she lay in bed with her door shut, praying for the slightest breeze to carry through her open window.
Those prayers went unanswered. The desert stretched beyond the trailer on all sides, quiet and still. But with her drapes open, she could see the night sky. The stars had never looked quite so close or so bright. She supposed this place could get in a person’s blood. Although it was a far cry from her glass-and-chrome house on the ocean—she doubted she’d ever be able to give up her proximity to the sea—the desert had a stark beauty she found appealing, if lonesome.
What would tomorrow bring? She and Nate had to start talking to people in town, make their presence known and build their cover. Maybe they’d take some pictures around Paradise. They couldn’t wait for Ethan and the Covenanters to notice them. They had to draw the attention of someone in the group, get an invitation to one of the Introduction Meetings. She hated the thought that Ethan might be stoning people while they settled in, completely unaware, in this trailer.
Would gaining admission to the group be difficult?
Rachel couldn’t even guess. Like every job she did, this one was filled with unknowns….
The creak of Nate’s footsteps in the hall told her he was up. She tensed, waiting to see what he’d do, but she wasn’t worried that he’d try to come into her room. He hadn’t really wanted to be with her the first time they’d made love. Why would he feel any different now?
She heard the front door open. He was going out.
Leaving her bed, she went to the window to see what he was doing. He appeared to be heading to his truck, but it didn’t look as if he planned on going far. He wasn’t wearing anything except a pair of basketball shorts.
The cab light went on when he opened the passenger door. He got something out of the jockey box, then started back.
Because she didn’t want him to catch her watching him, she climbed back into bed. Forget Nate! Obsessing about him was what had gotten her into trouble before.
She cringed as she remembered all the signals she must’ve misinterpreted to wind up in his bed, naked. The way he’d sometimes looked at her at the office, she’d assumed…well, she’d assumed too much, obviously. Without the experience most women had in dealing with men, she hadn’t known how to take their relationship from colleagues to lovers and had gone too far, too fast.
Getting into his bed had been her first mistake. Not getting out of it when he reacted with such surprise had been her second. And not leaving his house right after they’d made love had been her third. But by then she’d known deep inside that she’d have only the one night with him. So she’d stayed, secretly treasuring every moment.
The crushing disappointment that’d come in the morning—with his polite explanation of why he’d lost control and how sorry he was for not sending her home—still made her cringe.
God, what a fool! Why couldn’t she have salvaged her pride?
Because she’d been lonely too long. And because she’d let him mean too much to her. When she realized that feeling wasn’t mutual, she simply didn’t have the skills to shrug it off or act indifferent.
He’d taught her a good lesson, though. One most people learned in their teens, but better late than never…
At least she’d never make that mistake again. She’d demand more from any lover she took in the future.
But there were times she was tempted to lower her standards. Times like now, when she lay in bed, remembering Nate’s hands on her body and craving them there again.
6
Every Wednesday, Ethan called his entire church together for morning prayer. Then Bart and his guards took over for two hours with armory drills. In the summer, they met in the courtyard outside the Enlightenment Hall as the sun came up, like they were doing now. It wasn’t Wednesday, but the sudden disappearance of Courtney Sinclair had to be addressed. At Bartholomew’s urging, Ethan had called for a special prayer so he could handle the issue via public announcement. This would enable everyone to hear what he had to say on the matter. But he hated that this was the second time he’d been forced to convene a meeting for the sake of damage control within the past two months.
He could feel Bartholomew behind him, keeping silent watch, as always. Bart took his job as head of security very seriously. The way he’d supported Ethan after that fight with Courtney, how he’d hidden the body and then buried it, proved he could be trusted with anything.
Ethan had been lucky the day Bart had attended one of his first Introduction Meetings. Claiming she couldn’t live with his sexual dysfunction—which probably had more to do with his orientation than his impotence—Bart’s wife had recently left him. Days later, he’d closed his failing chiropractic practice. He’d been in the middle of a full-blown midlife crisis, had been searching for an anchor of some sort, a devotion that felt worthwhile, and Ethan had been there to offer him that. Bart was so grateful to have a purpose, to be valued that he’d become one of Ethan’s most loyal followers.
But he hadn’t tracked down Martha, and that grated on Ethan. He couldn’t abide the thought of a Covenant member leaving the group and then spouting off about him to the outside world. Martha was a Judas and would suffer God’s wrath, just as traitors like her deserved.
The other Spiritual Guides stood behind him, too, but Ethan wasn’t as completely sure of them as he was of Bartholomew. Some had been with him since college, but whether they stayed because of loyalty or self-interest, he couldn’t say. He protected himself by telling them only what he wanted them to hear.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep this particular situation between him and Bart, as he would’ve preferred. Harry Titherington knew he’d been with Courtney the night she went missing. Ethan had spent an hour trying to convince the entire group that she’d been alive when she left his apartment, but he wasn’t positive they all believed him. Especially Harry…
Head bowed, Ethan waited for the prayer to come to a close. It was beneath him to have to reason away doubts and accusations, but he had to put the rumors concerning Courtney to rest. He also had to prep his people so they’d know how to react if Courtney’s parents reappeared at the gate or, God forbid, sent the police. He wasn’t sure Paradise could tolerate another media onslaught, not on the heels of the botched stoning.
The sudden silence notified him that the prayer, said by one of the Spiritual Guides, was finally over.
“Thank you for your eloquence, Brother Whitehead,” he called out.
A resounding “Praise be to God” rang loud and clear in response.
“Yes, praise be to God,” Ethan said. “And now, before you go about your day, I have an issue of some importance to discuss.”
A ripple of expectation filtered through the crowd. The last time he’d said those words, he’d had to tell them that Sister Martha had escaped God’s justice and could not be found. As a defensive measure, he’d also had to exhort them to speak to no one about the incident, to pray that she could be caught before her evil tongue destroyed the work of God and to remember their covenants to put God’s work and glory above all else.
“Many of you celebrated with me when Sister Courtney Sinclair was saved from the cesspool of the outside world two short weeks ago. As you remember, because she was underage, we voted on whether or not we would take the risk associated with accepting her into our family.” In a private meeting before that, several of the Guides had voted against it, but he’d wanted her in his life and forced the issue. Now he was paying the price.
“We took a great deal into consideration,” he went on. “But, envisioning her with us after the world is cleansed of pride and iniquity, we took that risk and rejoiced at having reclaimed another lamb of God.” He changed the inflection of his voice. “Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, she has already lost her way.”
This time a groan sounded from the crowd and Ethan thought he heard someone mention Martha, but he ignored that and the disapproval he felt from the Brethren who hadn’t wanted him to admit Courtney in the first place, and talked over the noise. “She informed me of her decision to leave over the weekend. It was with a sad heart that I listened to the news. But I did not attempt to persuade her to stay. Not one so young. We can’t afford trouble with the authorities. They don’t understand us and those who don’t understand prefer to destroy.”
“They persecute and belittle!” someone cried.
“That they do,” Ethan responded. “Thus, I allowed her to make the choice on her own and then I escorted her to the gate that very night. Several of your Spiritual Guides saw me do it,” he added, even though, other than Bart and Harry, there wasn’t a soul who’d seen him with Courtney on Monday. Everything had happened in the pit and only the Brethren had direct access.
Murmuring arose. “I saw her go, Holy One.” “Me, too.” “How could she?” “Why would she do it?” “We loved her.” “We accepted her into our family.”
Slightly relieved by the response, he raised a hand to indicate silence. “Bartholomew tells me that many of you have expressed concern about some of the things she was saying before she made the decision to leave. I assure you, those were the words of Satan. He grabbed hold of her heart when it was at its most vulnerable, and he’ll grab hold of yours, too, if you do not watch and pray constantly.”
“We will watch and pray” came the echo.
“And to stop the poison from spreading further, we will speak no more of her,” Ethan continued. “We won’t so much as mention her name. She is to be shunned completely and, here in Paradise, it shall be as though she never existed.”
“All betrayers deserve to be shunned,” Sister Titherington called out.
“That’s true,” Ethan agreed. “It says in the scriptures, ‘If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out…and if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.’”
“Praise be to God!” everyone cried. “We will cast out the devil.”
Ethan raised his voice even louder. “Yes, cast out the devil, cast out all evil, my brothers and sisters. Be strong. Fret not about Courtney’s sudden withdrawal. As with Martha, God will punish her and justify us in the end.”
“We will pray for her soul!” the woman standing next to Sister Titherington yelled.
“As will I,” Ethan said. “Pray also that the Lord will provide us with others who seek the truth. Others who are more sincere in heart and more capable of taking on His covenants and promises. That way, we will have many hands to build up His Kingdom and plenty of friends with whom to rejoice in the enlightenment we have received.”
“Amen!” they called.
“Guard even your thoughts,” he cautioned, “lest ye be ensnared by the devil and dragged down to hell.”
“Amen!”
Warming to his role, Ethan stepped forward, once again feeling invincible in their worship. “And although it greatly pains me, I must broach another part of this issue. When we decided to accept Courtney, we decided to protect her from discovery and removal.”
“I remember,” Roger Lamkin shouted from the back.
“We sheltered her from the parents who’d been so unkind to her.” Ethan shook his head. “And now she will betray us, put us at risk. I have no idea what details of our lifestyle she might twist, but she could cause problems for us. I have made this a matter of much thought and prayer and it has been revealed to me that we are to stick with what we told her parents initially. Courtney was never here. The Lord would rather have us maintain that as the truth than to admit a lie that would cause the innocent among us to suffer.”
“The Lord will protect us.”
“He has shown us how to protect ourselves,” Ethan added, wanting to drive that point home.
“We only lied to make her free!” someone else called out. “We only lied to protect her. For the greater good of truth and freedom.”
“And in that we are justified.” He rubbed his hands together. “As we are justified, according to His word, in this—if outsiders come to call, you will say nothing of Courtney. You will come directly to me, and I will handle all inquiries. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Holy One,” they cried.
Cupping a hand around his ear, he spoke louder. “What did you say?”
“Yes, Holy One!”
The unified response satisfied him. “Good. Now, go on about your work and don’t worry. All is well.”
“All is well,” they echoed. “Praise be to God.”
Bartholomew came up behind him as the crowd dispersed. “You have led them in the right way,” he murmured.
Ethan turned to study his friend’s haggard face. He had bags under his eyes and a gray tinge to his skin that made Ethan suspect he wasn’t entirely well. But Bartholomew wouldn’t go back to bed even if ordered to do so. He was on guard, waiting for this latest problem to blow up or blow over. “It’s the only way.”
“We’ll be fine so long as we’re consistent. She came to a meeting here. That is all we admit. We never saw her after that. We cannot undermine our credibility by changing our story. The Lord will protect us if we hold our tongue on all else.”
The belligerence on Courtney’s face during their argument flitted through Ethan’s mind. He was shocked that she’d tried to blackmail him. Or had he been hallucinating about that, too? That was what really frightened him. Maybe she’d posed no threat and he’d killed her, anyway…. “Another scandal so soon after what happened with Martha is regrettable.”
“All will be well,” Bartholomew said. “Leave it to me.”
“I’ve left Martha to you, and it’s been weeks,” he complained to deflect attention from his own mistake.
“I’m working on it. I know she’s in Willcox.”
“If you know she’s in Willcox, why haven’t you been able to bring her back?”
He lowered his voice. “She’s not exactly listed in the phone book, Ethan. But I’ll find her. I have two men there as we speak.”
“Not with the mark—”
“Of course not! Do you think I’d send men so easily identified as belonging to us?”
“No. You’re too smart for that.”
“Thanks be to God I have never let you down. And I don’t plan to start now.”
“But by the time you recover her, the damage will be done.”
“The damage was done the moment she escaped and opened her big mouth. What more can she say now that she’s told the world we tried to kill her?”
“She knows details about the way we worship that I’d rather she didn’t share. What we do here is sacred. I won’t throw pearls before swine, won’t hold our beliefs up for the world to judge.”
“She’s probably already told. But we’ll get her back, and it won’t be too late. It’s never too late to punish the deserving.”
Ethan watched the crowd disperse. “I can’t believe she slipped through the hands of two hundred people.”
Bart lowered his voice. “She had to have help, as I said from the beginning.”
“Who helped her?”
“That’s what I want to know. And I won’t be satisfied until I find out.”
They’d called in at least two dozen people who’d been there that night, but all denied any knowledge of what had occurred.
“Once the fuss dies down, we’ll quietly reclaim her,” Bart said. “It’ll be safer then.”
With a sniff, Ethan nodded. It was going to be another hot day. After last night, he’d rather not be wandering around. And he didn’t want to be so close to Bart. Sometimes his head of security made him feel…strange. “Cancel my meetings this morning and send me three women,” he said. Then he searched his pockets for the meth he’d put there and hurried to the Enlightenment Hall, where the privacy of his room awaited. He wanted to get high and experiment with the women who were always so eager to please him.
But it was only an hour later that a knock on his door interrupted them.
“Holy One!” a breathless voice called from the hallway.
Ethan was pretty sure it was his housekeeper, Sister Maxine, but the sound came to him as if through a synthesizer. It took several seconds for him to realize he hadn’t imagined it, and even longer to bring the response swimming around in his head to his lips.
“Yes?” He’d had the women tie him to the bed so he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to leave the room, anyway. He’d been fantasizing about a most erotic encounter, one that didn’t include women at all.
“Holy One!” The second call came with enough urgency that his companions sat up.
“What is it?” he managed to ask.
“Courtney’s mother is at the gate!”
Rachel stood just inside the entrance of Portal’s store/café with Nate at her side, waiting for someone who worked in the restaurant portion of the establishment to seat them. They wouldn’t have any trouble getting a table. The place was almost empty. Apparently, even birders avoided this part of America at the height of the summer.
“You’re quiet today. You okay?” Nate asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied, but she already felt tired and dusty. She’d had only a few hours’ sleep and had to settle for a rudimentary bath. With such a limited water supply, a shower had been out of the question.
Somehow, Nate looked none the worse for wear. Dressed in a loose pair of khaki shorts that fell low on his lean hips and a T-shirt tight enough to delineate his rock-hard pecs, he hadn’t shaved and he hadn’t showered. But acknowledging that he could rough it far more gracefully than she didn’t make Rachel feel any better.
An elderly woman with white hair piled on top of her head and turquoise teardrop earrings smiled when she noticed them waiting. “Hello. Two for breakfast?” she asked, scooping up menus.
Rachel smoothed her pink cotton blouse and—thanks to the dust—ill-advised white shorts as Nathan nodded. Resting a hand at the base of her spine, he guided her to a booth along the perimeter. There were ten tables in the restaurant, but only one was occupied—with two ranchers, judging by their cowboy hats and weather-beaten faces.
Once they were seated, the hostess presented them with menus. Glancing out the window, Rachel could see heat rising from the earth in shimmering waves. The temperature here was exactly as Nate had described it—white-hot, hot enough to bleach anything. But with wood paneling and deep awnings, the restaurant provided a cool, shady respite. An oasis.
Thank God.
Of course, they’d have to contend with the heat later on. But in the meantime she accepted a glass of ice water from a young girl of about twelve.
“Thank you.” Rachel tried to catch the girl’s eye so she could get a clearer glimpse of her delicate features, but the child ducked her head and scurried away.
“Abby’s deaf,” the hostess explained. “She can’t hear and she can’t talk, but she’s the sweetest thing in the whole world.”
“Is she any relation to you?” Rachel asked.
The deep wrinkles on the woman’s face easily accommodated a smile. “She’s my grandchild. Unfortunately, her daddy isn’t up to much, so I take care of her every summer. I’d keep her over the winter, too, but she goes to a special school.”
Rachel guessed that the girl was part American Indian. Her bronze-colored, dewy skin was especially beautiful. “Maybe when she gets older.”
“Maybe.” The woman straightened their flatware. “This your first time in Portal?”
Rachel held her menu at the ready but didn’t open it. “Yes.”
“Where you headin’?”
Expecting Nate to enter the conversation, Rachel hesitated—but he was already perusing the list of entrées and didn’t seem to be paying attention.
“Nowhere,” she replied. “At least, not anytime soon. We’re renting the Spitzer place about three miles from here.”
“You’ve moved in? You’re new?” she asked in surprise.
“Yes. We plan to be here for a while. My, um, husband—” she stumbled over the word but made an effort to cover her gaffe by hurrying on “—is a wildlife photographer.”
“Really! Well, you’ve come to the right corner of the earth. We have one of the most biologically diverse areas in America here.”
They were sure hiding it well. So far, Rachel had seen nothing diverse about it. Hot and dry, more hot and dry, and desert scrub mixed with a few other plants that looked about the same. That was it. But she pretended to agree. “So we hear,” she said, and kicked Nate.
Lifting his head, he set his menu aside. “From what I’ve read, you’ve got more than eighty species of mammals.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” the woman responded. “I hear people talk about the wildlife all the time—hooded skunks, mountain lions, black bears, javelinas, raccoons. We even have quite a few different kinds of bats. One of ’em has these really big ears,” she said with a laugh.
“You have a lot of snakes, too, don’t you?” The expression on Nate’s face suggested the question was in earnest, but Rachel knew him too well. He was needling her.
“Oh, yes. Lots of snakes and lizards.”
“What about spiders?” he asked. “I’d really like to photograph a tarantula—a tarantula crawling out of an old outhouse would be a great photo.”