He referred to the events of the previous day as a “failed tactical effort,” and said he would have to put on record his concern that they had delayed calling in the FBI, who were now saddled with the unenviable task of “coming in backward to salvage the situation.” Endearing himself even more to the Mohave County team, he had immediately stood down the deputies who’d been at the scene since the beginning, effectively denying them the chance to be associated with the positive outcome everyone hoped for.
They now had the house completely surrounded. Farrell had set up the command post inside the northernmost barn, having his team remove hay bales and farm equipment from the wooden platform that ran below the high ventilation windows. From this vantage point, they had a bird’s eye view of the house and its surroundings, which, during the strategy briefing that was underway, Farrell had termed “an operational advantage that will enable us to avoid unfortunate errors during this little picnic outing, gentlemen.” He had positioned snipers at key junctures along the platform.
“See why I held off,” Gossett muttered. “You realize if this goes sideways, they’re going to point the finger at us.”
“I’m not hanging around. My boss wants me out of here today,” Jude responded, adjusting her bulletproof vest.
Gossett rolled his eyes. With good-humored sarcasm, he said, “Sure he does. Come on my turf, raise some Cain, then haul ass back home leaving you know who to take shit from the er…elite, here.”
“Yeah, we sure livened things up. You’ll be thanking me in your retirement speech. Just wait and see.”
Gossett snorted. “I’ll be thanking the big guy upstairs if I get out of this without being demoted.”
“We have the most capable men and women in the business,” Farrell wrapped things up on a positive note. “We have the tactical advantage and the firepower, and we have all the time in the world to sit these individuals out. No one acts in haste. Deadly force is a last resort. An all-out assault is a last resort. Do I make myself clear? You will all play a vital role in keeping this operation disciplined, strategic, and lawful.”
No one mentioned Waco. They didn’t need to. It hovered in the ether, an unspoken presence grating on nerves like ghostly fingernails sliding down a pane of glass.
The negotiator was about to commence phase one of their plan, an attempt to engage Nathaniel Epperson in dialogue over the bullhorn since he wouldn’t answer his cell phone. The initial aim was to defuse the hostility by asking if everyone in the house was safe and well and offering to send in any food or other supplies needed. Meantime, they had dispatched a couple of senior agents and one of the sheriff’s people to Elias Rockwell’s compound in Colorado City, hoping to persuade him to instruct his followers to put their weapons down. The negotiator claimed this had all the makings of a protracted standoff. If they wanted a good outcome they would have to be patient and gradually shrink their perimeter.
This seemed like the right time to get out of Dodge. The first thing Jude wanted to do was document and submit the evidence, ensuring integrity and a continuous chain of custody were preserved. She got a headache thinking about it sitting in Gossett’s truck, even though the cooler was locked and, as custodian, she held the only key. She would only rest easy once everything was packaged and labeled and transported to Grand Junction for examination.
The nearest lab was in Cedar City, not far from the hospital where Tulley was being treated. She could visit him, then return to Rapture and escort their prisoner to the Four Corners. With any luck, by the time she was back, Gossett and his team would have located the two missing kids and she would be able to take their statements. She cleared her departure with Farrell and left the barn, heading for the brace of vehicles parked beyond the exterior perimeter. She had barely made twenty feet when a flash blinded her momentarily and an explosion shook the ground. Diving for cover, she gazed back over her shoulder to see what was hit and whether anyone was down. Frantically, she crammed the speaker back in her left ear and elbowed her way to a group of agents taking cover behind an armored car.
“Rocket-propelled grenade!” someone yelled, and Farrell’s voice issued instructions over the radio in a steady stream.
I am never getting out of this goddamned place
, Jude thought.
*
Summer felt a hand slapping her cheek and opened her eyes. She no longer had the strength to push or the energy to pray. A numbing despair had taken hold of her. God had found her unworthy, and had not answered her prayers. She had no idea what she had done to disappoint Him so greatly that He would punish her this cruel way.
“Wake up.” Thankful shook her. “You have to come with me.”
“Come? Where?”
Loudly, Thankful said, “We are going to a different room where we will not be in the way. Can’t you see, Sister, that there are more important things going on than your childbirth?”
Summer blinked and gazed over toward the window where several men stood with Fawn Dew. All around them, on the floor, rifles were stacked.
Fawn Dew turned and said, “Good idea. You can put her in Naoma’s room until Nathaniel is ready to deal with her.”
“Thank you, Sister.” Thankful slid her arms beneath Summer’s shoulders and lifted her. “Swing your legs over and get up.”
“I can’t.” She had barely uttered the protest when Thankful slapped her face, earning an approving look from Fawn Dew.
Thankful’s low, urgent voice hissed in Summer’s ear. “Listen to me. Once all this shooting is over, they are going to exorcise you to get rid of your demons, then cut your throat. You need to come with me now or you will die and so will your baby.”
As Summer started to speak, Thankful placed a washcloth over her mouth and hauled her to her feet. Arms through Summer’s, she half dragged her from the room and they shuffled down the hall until they reached the walkway that led to some half-built rooms at the back of the house. Thankful rushed Summer even faster along the unfinished wood floor until they came to a room at the far end, blocked off by a large timber board. Only then did Thankful release her and ease her to the floor.
Gasping for breath, Summer wailed, “What are you doing?”
“Be quiet,” Thankful said.
With a stifled grunt, she lifted the large board and propped it against the wall, then she hurriedly pulled Summer inside and deposited her on the floor. The room was without drywall or glass panes in the windows, and in the corner nearest the window frame, Thankful’s children sat in a tight little knot, their arms around one another, big frightened eyes gazing from pale faces. Fawn Dew’s son, Jareph, peered out from behind the oldest girl.
After Thankful had dragged the board in front of the doorway once more, she summoned a couple of the children, saying, “Each of you pick up a leg and I’ll take the other end.” Between them they carried Summer to a quilt on the floor below the window.
Summer felt strangely cold and her heart was beating so fast she thought she was going to pass out. “Why are the children here?” she asked.
“Because we’re all leaving.”
“What?” Fear clamped her throat together.
“You heard me. I’m not letting our husband kill my children so he can get his picture in the newspaper.”
Shaking violently, Summer grabbed Thankful’s skirt. “No! We can’t. We will be cast out. We will reap eternal damnation.”
Thankful dropped to her knees and seized Summer by the shoulders. “I trust in the Heavenly Father, and he sent me a vision last night. In it, my children and I were safe and I saw this house. It was lifted up and sitting in the palm of the devil’s hand.”
“What if that’s a false vision? What if it’s Satan, testing your faith?”
Thankful brushed tears away. “What’s happening here is not about faith. I’ve taken all I’m going to take, Summer. This is just too much.”
“They’ll come after us. We’ll never get out of here. Remember what they did to Diantha?”
“Do you think God wants you dead?” Thankful shook Summer hard and gestured toward her kids. “Do you think he wants them dead? They’re just babies.”
“I don’t know.”
“He doesn’t. And that’s why He is going to lead us out of here.”
“I can’t do this. I’m in so much pain.” Summer buried her face in Thankful’s large bosom. “Go without me. I’ll only hold you back.”
“You’re coming.” Thankful let go of Summer and moved to the window, standing to one side and peering out. “I think they’re going to be shooting out front for a while. The prophet wants them to keep the government agents pinned down until the Colorado City militia gets here.”
“Is this Armageddon?” Summer asked, stunned by her bad luck.
Of all the days to have been found lacking, why did it have to be the day of Christ’s return? There was still time for her to repent and be purified. The prophet said if a women told her priesthood head—her husband—everything, and he forgave them and punished them as he saw fit, they would be resurrected and live forever as his celestial wife on a far-off planet.
Thankful snorted. “Let me tell you something. If the prophet says this is going to be the last day, then we know for sure it isn’t, since that’s one prediction those idiots get wrong every time.”
Summer did not get a chance to react to this heresy. She clutched her lower body and moaned in pain as a powerful contraction tore through her.
Thankful squatted next to her and took her hand, signaling the children to draw closer. Once everyone was in a tight huddle, she said, “Listen carefully. As soon as I tell you, we’re going out that window and we’re running. There’s a white minivan not too far from the house. Run to it and hide behind it. Everyone understand?” Thankful tapped her oldest daughter on the shoulder and said, “You’re in charge of Jareph.”
“Are we going to live among the gentiles?” The girl seemed mortified.
“We can worry about that later. Right now, all I want you to do is get to the white van. Okay?”
The children nodded and Thankful hugged each one. “I love you very much, and one day all of you will tell your children about this,” she said. “Now let’s pray.”
*
If anyone wanted to know where the middle of nowhere was, this was it, Chastity thought. No one gets to Hildale and Colorado City by accident. It’s not on the way to some bigger, better place, unless you wanted to count heaven like the locals did.
This was her second visit in as many weeks. She’d hired an attorney the day after the Flemings took Adeline, paying a lot of money to find out that there was nothing she could do. Adeline was only fourteen. If Chastity wanted guardianship she would have to go before a judge and prove her sister and brother-in-law were unfit parents. If she took Adeline against their wishes, she would be breaking the law, no matter what her niece wanted. It went without saying that an arrest would not help her cause.
The attorney had advised her to wait until Adeline was forced into the marriage, then report the case to Child Services so she could be legally removed from her home. She would have to testify against all the adults involved. He didn’t think much of their chances. The authorities in Utah had spent fifty years ignoring the activities of their polygamist hatchlings.
Frustrated, Chastity drove to Hildale with all her savings—twenty thousand dollars—in a locked briefcase. This she’d offered to Tucker in exchange for legal guardianship of Adeline. All he and Vonda had to do was sign the papers she’d brought with her.
She could tell he was tempted, but in the end he backed off, claiming the marriage was God’s will. The One Mighty and Strong had spoken and Tucker had to show his allegiance. Adeline had already been taken to the home of her chosen husband. Tucker wouldn’t give the groom’s name and after Vonda had refused to see her, Chastity had returned home, afraid to be gone too long in case Adeline tried to contact her.
She shifted in her seat, impatient with the cars in front of her. Everyone had slowed down to drive through the town of Hurricane, a small hamlet that felt like the last outpost of modern civilization before the steep two-lane highway overshadowed by the cliffs of Canaan Mountain. The route was like a passage to another world, another time. Chastity had never been on drugs but she thought it probably felt like this—weirdly disorienting. Every time she came here she worried that she might somehow be sucked into the vortex of irrationality and doomsday thinking that kept her sister blindly obedient to an amoral dictator.