Stephen finished with the papers, stood and retreated. Kathleen realized she hadn’t paid attention to a word of the conversation. She looked to Father’s face, checking to see if he had noticed. His olive skin and bristled jaw made him look older than his forty-six years. There were new lines at his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. So much pressure he was under, too much for one man. That was what he often told them, but then said he had no choice, really, that God had chosen him to lead his followers to a better life. He finally pulled his hands back, away from Kathleen’s, and folded them together in his lap. At first, Kathleen thought it was in prayer until she noticed him kneading the hem of his jacket, a subtle but disturbing gesture.
“Those who want to destroy us draw closer each day,” he said in a hushed tone, confiding in the three of them. “There are ways I can destroy some of our enemies, but others can simply be stifled for the time being. Everything stored at the cabin was for our protection, our security. If all is lost, we will need to find some other way to obtain protection. We must protect ourselves from those who wish to destroy us. Those who are jealous of my power. What concerns me most is that I sense betrayal within our own ranks.”
Emily gasped, and Kathleen wanted to slap her. Couldn’t she see this was hard enough for Father? He needed their strength and support, not their panic. Although she wasn’t sure what Father meant by betrayal. She knew there had been members who had left, several recently. And then, of course, the reporter-that photographer who had pretended to be a lost soul to gain access to their compound.
“No one shall cross me and go unpunished.” Instead of angry, Father looked sad when he said this, glancing at each of them as if appealing to them for help, though this strong, miraculous man would never ask for such a thing, at least not for himself. It made Kathleen want to say or do something to comfort him.
“I’m counting on the three of you,” he continued. “Only you can help. We must not let lies destroy us. We cannot trust anyone. We mustn’t let them break up our church.” The calm slowly transformed to anger, his hands turning to fists and his face changing from olive to crimson. Still his voice remained steady. “Anyone who is not with us is against us. Those against us are jealous of our faith, jealous of our knowledge and of our special graces with God.”
He pounded a fist on the chair arm, making Kathleen jump. He didn’t seem to notice and continued as if the rage had taken control. She had never seen him like this before. Spittle drooled from the corner of his mouth as he said, “They’re jealous of my power. They want to destroy me, because I know too many of their secrets. They will not destroy everything I worked so hard to build. How dare they even think they can outwit me. That they can destroy me. I see the end and it will come in a ball of fire if they choose to destroy me.”
Kathleen watched, uncomfortable yet unflinching. Perhaps this was one of Father’s prophetic fits. He had told them about his visions, his tremors, his talks with God, but no one had witnessed one. Is that what was happening now? Is that what caused the veins at his temples to bulge and his teeth to clench? Is this what it looked like to talk to God? How would she know? She had stopped talking to God ages ago. Right about the time she started believing in the power of Jack Daniel’s and Jim Beam.
However, Father did seem to have special powers, certain knowledge, almost psychic abilities. How else was he able to so keenly zero in on people’s fears? How else was he able to know so much about things the media and the government kept from everyone?
She had been shocked at first when he told them about the government putting chemicals like fluoride in the water to cause cancer or about the government injecting healthy cows with E. coli to cause a national panic. About the government putting listening devices in cellular phones and cameras in ATM machines, all to record their every move. Even the magnetic strips on the back of credit cards contained personal tracking devices. And now with the Internet, the government could see inside people’s homes anytime they went online.
At first she had found it all hard to believe, but each time, Father read to them articles from sources he said were unbiased, some in prestigious medical journals, and all backing up his knowledge.
He was one of the wisest men Kathleen had ever known. She still wasn’t sure she cared whether or not her soul had been saved. What Kathleen O’Dell did care about was that, for the first time in more than two decades, she believed in someone again and that she was surrounded by people who cared about her. She was an integral part of a community, an integral part of something larger and more important than herself. That was something she had never experienced.
“Kathleen?”
“Yes, Father?”
He was pouring more tea for them and frowned when he noticed she had hardly touched hers. But instead of lecturing her on the healing qualities of his special tea, he said, “What can you tell me about breakfast with your daughter?”
“Oh, that. It was nice,” she lied, not wanting to confess that they hadn’t even ordered breakfast before Maggie bailed out on her. “I told Maggie that perhaps we could do Thanksgiving.”
“And? I hope she won’t make an excuse that she has to be off profiling some important case, will she?” He seemed so concerned that her relationship with her daughter work out. With all these other problems to deal with, Kathleen felt guilty that she had given him one more concern.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so. She seemed very excited about it,” she lied again, wanting to please him. After all, he often said the end justified the means. He had so many pressures of his own. She couldn’t add to that. Besides, it would all work out just fine with her and Maggie. It always did.
“I’m excited about cooking a real holiday meal. Thanks so much for suggesting it.”
“It’s important for the two of you to repair your relationship,” he told her.
He had been encouraging her to do so for months now. She was a bit confused by it. Usually, Father emphasized that members needed to let go of family. Even tonight with Martin and Aaron, he had lectured that there were no fathers and sons, no mothers and daughters. But she was sure Father had a good reason-if he was insisting it must be for her own good. He probably knew that she needed to repair the relationship before they left for Colorado. Yes, that was it. So that she could truly feel free.
Just then, she wondered how Father knew that Maggie was a profiler for the FBI. She was quite certain she hadn’t told him. Half the time, she couldn’t even remember what it was called. But, of course, Father would have taken it upon himself to know. She smiled to herself, pleased that he obviously cared a great deal about her to bother with such a small detail. Now she really would need to make an effort to have Thanksgiving with Maggie. It was the least she could do if it meant that much to Reverend Everett.
CHAPTER 30
Newburgh Heights, Virginia
Maggie leaned her forehead against the cool glass and watched the raindrops slide down her kitchen window. Wisps of fog descended upon her large, secluded backyard, reminding her for a second time in two days of swirling ghosts. It was ridiculous. She didn’t believe in ghosts. She believed in things she knew, black-and-white things she could see and feel. Gray was much too complicated.
Yet each time she viewed a dead body, each time she helped slice into its flesh and remove what were once pulsating organs, she found herself reaffirming-or perhaps it was hoping-that there had been something eternal, something no one could see or even begin to understand, something that had escaped from the decaying shell left behind. If that’s the way it worked, then Ginny Brier’s spirit, her soul, was in another place, perhaps with Delaney and Maggie’s father, all of them sharing the horrific last moments as they swirled in wisps of gray fog around the dogwoods in her backyard.