Jane followed her.
They moved between rows of buildings that stood silent and dark, following in the boot prints of the police team. Ahead, Jane saw candlelight glowing warmly in the assembly hall windows, and she heard music, the sound of many voices raised in song. It was a sweet and ethereal hymn that soared heavenward on notes sung by children. The scent of wood smoke, the promise of warmth and fellowship, beckoned them toward the building.
They stepped through the door, into the assembly hall.
Inside, a multitude of candles lit the soaring space. A congregation of hundreds filled gleaming wood pews. On one side of the aisle sat the women and girls in a sea of pastel dresses. On the other side were the men and boys, clad in white shirts and dark trousers. A dozen law enforcement officers had gathered at the rear of the hall, where they stood looking about uneasily, uncertain how to proceed in what was clearly a house of worship.
The hymn came to an end, and the final, thrilling notes faded. In the silence, a dark-haired man emerged onto the stage and calmly surveyed his congregation. He wore no priestly robes, no embroidered shawl, no ornaments that set him apart as different or special. Instead he stood before them garbed in the same clothes as his followers, but the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to the elbows, as though in preparation for a day’s labors. He needed no costume, no eye-catching glitter to hold the crowd’s attention. His gaze alone, so intense it seemed radioactive, riveted every pair of eyes in the hall.
So this is Jeremiah Goode, thought Jane. Though his hair was shot through with silver, it still looked like a young man’s mane, thick and leonine, falling almost to his shoulders. On this gloomy winter’s day, his presence seemed to give off as warm a glow as the flames leaping in the hall’s enormous stone hearth. In silence, he surveyed the audience, and his gaze finally settled on the police officers standing at the rear of the hall.
“Dear friends, let us all rise to welcome our visitors,” he said.
As if they were a single organism, the congregation rose in unison and turned to look at the strangers. “Welcome” came the chorus of greeting. Every face looked scrubbed and pink-cheeked, every gaze wide-eyed with innocence. Wholesome and healthy was the picture here, the portrait of a contented community united in purpose.
Again, in unison, they all sat down. It was an eerily choreographed movement that set off a simultaneous creak of benches.
Lieutenant MacAfee called out: “Jeremiah Goode?”
The man onstage gave a solemn nod. “I am Jeremiah.”
“I’m Lieutenant David MacAfee, Idaho State Police. Would you come with us, sir?”
“May I ask why this show of force is necessary? Especially now, in our hour of distress?”
“Distress, Mr. Goode?”
“That is why you’re here, isn’t it? Because of the atrocities committed against our poor brethren in Kingdom Come?” Somberly, Jeremiah looked around at his congregation. “Yes, friends, we know, don’t we? Word came to us yesterday, the terrible news of what was done to our followers. All because of who they were, and what they believed.”
In the audience, there were nods and murmurs of sad agreement.
“Mr. Goode,” said MacAfee, “I’m asking you again to come with us.”
“Why?”
“To answer a few questions.”
“Then ask them here and now, so that all may listen.” Jeremiah held out his arms in an extravagant gesture toward his followers. This was grand theater, and he was center stage, with the hall’s arches soaring above him, and the light from the windows beaming down on his face. “I keep no secrets from this congregation.”
“This isn’t a matter for a public forum,” said MacAfee. “This is a criminal investigation.”
“You think I don’t understand that?” Jeremiah stared at him with a gaze that seemed to sear the air. “Our followers were murdered in that valley. Executed like sheep, and their bodies left to be torn and devoured by wild animals!”
“Is that what you heard?”
“Is it not the truth? That forty-one good people, including women and children, were martyred because of what they believed? And now you come here, invited through our gates. You men with your guns and your disdain for those who don’t believe what you do.”
MacAfee shifted uneasily. In the warmth of the hall, beads of sweat gleamed on his forehead. “I’ll ask this one more time, Mr. Goode. Either you come with us willingly, or we’ll be forced to arrest you.”
“I am willing! Didn’t I just say I would answer your questions? But ask them now, where these good people can hear you. Or are you afraid of the whole world learning the truth?” He looked around at his followers. “My friends, you are my protection. I call on you to bear witness.”
A man in the congregation rose to his feet and called out: “What are the police afraid of? Ask your questions so we can hear, too!”
The crowd joined in. “Yes, ask now!”
“Ask him here!”
Benches creaked as the crowd grew agitated, as other men stood. The police officers glanced nervously around the room.
“Then you refuse to cooperate?” MacAfee said.
“I am cooperating. But if you’re here to ask about Kingdom Come, I can’t help you.”
“You call this cooperation?”
“I have no answers for you. Because I wasn’t witness to what happened.”
“When were you last in Kingdom Come?”
“It was October. When I left them, they were thriving. Well provisioned for winter. Already digging the foundations for six more houses. That was the last time I laid eyes on the valley.” He looked to his congregation for support. “Am I telling the truth? Is there anyone here who would contradict me?”
Dozens of voices took up his defense. “The Prophet doesn’t lie!”
Jeremiah looked at MacAfee. “I think you have your answer, Lieutenant.”
“Not by a long shot,” MacAfee snapped.
“Do you see, my friends?” Jeremiah said, gazing around at his followers. “How they profane God’s house with their army and their weapons?” He shook his head in pity. “This spectacle of force is a tactic of small men.” He smiled at MacAfee. “Has it worked for you, Lieutenant? Do you feel larger now?”
This taunt was more than MacAfee could endure, and his spine stiffened at the challenge. “Jeremiah Goode, you are under arrest. And all these children are now in protective custody. They are to be escorted off this property, where buses are waiting for them.”
A startled cry rose from the women, followed by a chorus of wails and sobs. The entire congregation surged to its feet in protest. In a matter of mere seconds, MacAfee had lost control of the room, and Jane saw officers’ hands drop to their weapons. Instinctively, she reached for her own as the fury swelled, as violence seemed just one spark away.
“My friends! My friends!” Jeremiah called out. “Please, let us have peace.” He raised his arms and the room instantly hushed. “The world will know the truth soon enough,” he proclaimed. “They’ll see that we conducted ourselves with dignity and compassion. That when confronted by the brutal face of authority, we responded with grace and humility.” He released a deep and mournful sigh. “My friends, we have no choice but to obey. And I have no choice but to submit to their will. I ask only that you remember what you witnessed here today. The injustice, the cruelty of families wrenched apart.” He gazed upward, as though speaking directly to the heavens. Only then did Jane notice the congregant in the upper balcony, filming the entire speech. This is all on camera. The videotaped martyrdom of Jeremiah Goode. Once that footage was disseminated to the media, the whole world would know of this outrage against a peaceful community.
“Remember, friends!” commanded Jeremiah.
“Remember!” the congregation responded in unison.