“Sister Rachel.” Ethan had her kneel in front of him. Then he cupped her face as if he were Christ showing mercy to those who worshipped at His feet. “I love you. God loves you. Do not suffer more because of your mother. Release the pain.” With that he put his hands on her head and began to give her a blessing. And even though Rachel doubted he was anywhere close to being sincere, there was a part of her that could relate to the people who seemed taken in by the spectacle. Ethan had such charisma, and the others in the room chanted and clapped and stomped their feet. She almost wished she could let go of her cynicism long enough to feel what they felt….
Almost. But not quite.
“Love can conquer all!” they cried.
When Ethan drew her to her feet, she found herself in tears. But it had nothing to do with belief. The experience made her homesick, although she knew there was no going home. The home she craved didn’t exist.
Ethan stood over her and tenderly wiped her tears. “Make sure you tell your husband that he is a very lucky man.”
That line was for her ears alone, but she was glad to hear it. Because it meant Ethan couldn’t see inside her soul the way he sometimes made it seem. It meant he didn’t know that Nate was only pretending to love her. And that she was only pretending to believe.
“So what do you think?”
Nate sat on the couch in their trailer while Rachel perched on the edge of the old recliner across from him. It was dark outside, nearly ten, so she’d turned on the lamps. “He’s going to be formidable.”
“How?”
The memory of the embrace she’d received from each and every Covenanter as she left the tent reminded her of the love and acceptance she’d felt at the meeting. It was part of the magic that held people, made them want to return and participate, to believe in healings that never really occurred. “He argues logically and boldly and he seems to have a clear basis for his beliefs. He’s also a powerful speaker. He has a certain mystique that’s very effective.”
“Sounds as if you admire him.”
“I don’t admire him!”
“You were attracted to him?”
“Repulsed. But I recognize his strengths. He’s definitely appealing in some ways. And his people seem very loyal. That’ll make our job harder.”
“Did you get the sense that he’s dangerous? That he might’ve kidnapped the Sinclair girl?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past him. Bartholomew was there, too,” she added.
“How’d he treat you?”
“He wasn’t particularly friendly. He kept his normal eye trained on me the whole time, watched every move I made. But it was hard to read what he was feeling. He’s as coarse as Ethan is polished.”
“If Ethan’s the kind of cult leader I suspect he is, he needs someone to handle the dirty work.” Resting his elbows on his knees, Nate let his hands dangle between his legs. “Did you see Martha’s husband or son?”
“No, there were no children present. Todd might’ve been in the congregation, though. A lot of the Covenanters showed up. I had the impression that’s part of the act, part of what makes Ethan’s presentation so moving. He fills every empty seat with someone he can rely on to show the proper enthusiasm and support, and it becomes infectious.”
“You didn’t ask anyone about Martha?”
“I didn’t dare. I was afraid of creating suspicion.”
“She’s been in the news. I think it would’ve been okay.”
Once Rachel had met Ethan, she’d been asking herself if this person could be stopped—and if she was capable of stopping him. “There wasn’t room for me to show too much skepticism. Not during this round.”
Nate’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean? You were there as a visitor. Isn’t some skepticism expected?”
“Of course. But I needed to come off as the interested party, the one driven by curiosity, or something deeper, to seek the ‘completion’ Ethan supposedly offers. That’s what makes me a good target for him. You’re the hard sell, remember? I decided to wait and let you broach the subject of Martha and her accusations when it’s safe to bring you in.”
“When will that be?”
“I have no idea. But not yet.”
She toyed with some electrical tape covering a tear in the vinyl upholstery.
The silence stretched on. “Does Ethan know you’re married?” Nate finally asked.
“Yes.” The image of Ethan gently wiping the tears from her eyes appeared in her mind. “He said to tell you that you’re a lucky man,” she added with a chuckle.
Nate didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He sat brooding for a few more seconds. “That meeting really made an impact on you.”
“Ethan’s as twisted as they come. But he really knows what he’s doing.”
“Let’s hope we do, too,” he said.
Nate pulled his truck around back, angling it so the headlights hit the outhouse directly. It was the easiest way to get the light he needed, unless he wanted to wait for the sun to rise, and he preferred not to do that. With the sun came the heat. Besides, Rachel generally woke early to jog. Doing it now gave him time alone to think. He always thought better when using his hands.
Grabbing a box of nails and a hammer from the bed of his truck, and some extra lumber he’d collected from around the property, he strode over to the badly listing outhouse. With some reinforcements, he could make the damn thing stand straight, no problem. He could even stop the creak of the door. But solving the turmoil inside him wasn’t going to be as easy. This job seemed to be sliding sideways on them before they’d actually started.
Say they got in. How would they maintain a credible cover if they weren’t even sleeping together? That wasn’t usual behavior for a young married couple, especially a young married couple in a cult where free sex wasn’t only condoned, it was promoted as part of their worship. He and Rachel would be living in a tent with eighteen others, for crying out loud. Their lack of intimacy would hardly escape notice. And what would he do if they were included in any type of ritual where he was expected to share her?
It seemed inevitable that he would make love to Rachel, too inevitable to continue fighting. But there’d be a cost…
Closing his eyes against the memory of what Susan had tried to do when he’d broken up with her, he cursed under his breath and hit the nail that much harder. Remembering the call he’d received from her mother still turned his stomach, and that would never change. Susan slit her wrists, Nate. She’s in the hospital….