22
There was no one passing out flyers at the entrance to Safeway. The locals went in with empty baskets and came out with full ones, but the scene Jeannette had described had changed.
“They have her. We’re too late,” Rachel said. Just as she’d feared.
Nate shoved his fists in his pockets and made another pass through the produce section, even though they’d already walked the whole store—twice.
Rachel watched him from near the registers. When he returned, she asked, “What do you think Ethan will do to her?” She had a pretty good idea; she was just hoping Nate might have a more optimistic view.
“If I were him, I’d get the job done quickly and efficiently.”
So much for hoping he’d be optimistic. “No more public stonings.”
“No.”
“Then we may never find her.”
Before he could respond, a man in his fifties with white hair and a goatee strode by, wearing an employee’s smock. Nate’s gaze flicked over his name tag, which indicated he was the store manager. “Excuse me,” he said, moving to intercept him.
A beaming “customer service” smile replaced the man’s previous look of absorption. “Yes? What can I help you with?”
“A woman was here earlier. A burn victim. She was passing out flyers by the door?”
“I remember. I chased her off once, but she came back. When I saw what she was passing out, I turned a blind eye. I think that cult in Paradise is dangerous. You’ve heard about the woman they tried to stone, haven’t you? She lives here now. So I didn’t mind that someone was trying to warn folks.”
He might have minded if he’d known Sarah had an entirely different agenda. “Was she alone?”
“For the most part. Although—” he stroked his carefully trimmed goatee “—now that you mention it, I did see her talking to a gentleman at the far edge of the parking lot. She got in with him for a few minutes. Then she got out and he left.”
“What was he driving?”
“A Jeep. Why?”
Nate didn’t answer. “When was this?”
“About an hour ago.” Confusion formed a deep V between his eyebrows. “Is there some reason you’re so interested?”
“There is. You know that woman you mentioned? The one the Covenanters tried to stone?”
“Yes.”
“Would you recognize her if you saw her?”
“Maybe. There was a picture of her in the paper not long ago.”
“She’s gone missing.”
He dropped the hand that’d been stroking his goatee. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not. You haven’t seen her in the store today, have you?”
“No.”
“She didn’t leave with that burn victim who was at the door?”
“She might have. One minute that woman was there. The next, she was gone. I figured she ran out of flyers, or the heat became too much for her.”
“You didn’t notice the Jeep in the lot other than that one time?”
“I didn’t. But I wasn’t looking for it. Even when I’m outside on break I’m usually collecting carts, picking up trash, talking to customers. And it’s been a busy day.”
“I understand.” Nate gave him a nod. “Thanks for your help.”
“Sure. I’m sorry to hear about that woman—what was her name?”
“Martha Wilson.”
“I hope she turns up, and that she’s okay.”
“Me, too,” Nate said, but Rachel could tell he didn’t think she would be.
“You’re guessing it was Bartholomew out in that Jeep,” Rachel said as they walked to the truck.
“I’m guessing it could’ve been. It was one of the Covenanters. I’d bet money on that.”
She paused when they reached the front fender. “So what do we do now?”
“We go back to Paradise.”
“But we won’t have much of a chance if we go together. You’re too protective, too defensive. Just having you around insulates me from Ethan and slows my progress.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re not going without me.”
A woman walked past. When she was gone, Rachel said, “Yes, I am. If we hope to save Martha, I have to.”
“There’s got to be another way.”
“Nothing quicker than this. Hit me.”
He scowled at her. “What?”
“Hit me! I’ll tell Ethan we had a fight, that you were angry about how close he held me when we danced last night. He’ll believe I left you if I show up injured.”
“No! I’m not going hit you.”
“We have to make it believable.” She slugged him in the arm. “Come on.”
“Stop it.” He grabbed her wrists so she couldn’t do anything more to provoke him. “I won’t hit you.”
“It’s the only way to get in without raising suspicion.”
“Even if I was willing to do it—which I’m not—we’re in a parking lot. I could get arrested.”
“Not unless I pressed charges.”
“Someone could see us.”
“No one’s going to see behind this van.” She patted the carpet cleaner’s vehicle that blocked sight of them from the store. “What else can we do?”
He scowled. “Just say I’m abusive!”
“I won’t have the same level of credibility. Our marriage is a match made in heaven, remember?”
“That came from me, not you.”
“We have to come up with something that shows a real rift.”
His frown told her he couldn’t think of a better idea, so she continued to press him to follow through on hers.
“I’d have instant sympathy, especially after the way you acted at the celebration.”
“There’s one problem. I can’t hit you. Not even to make it look good.”
How else could she get banged up? “It’ll be harder if I have to do it myself,” she said, considering her options.
“Let me go up there,” he said.
“And say what?”
“Maybe I wouldn’t be embraced as readily as you, but…” He scratched his head, shook it, then sighed. “Yeah, that won’t work. But…you’ll have to go in uninjured. You could say we had an argument. It doesn’t have to be a damn fistfight.”
“An argument won’t be as dramatic. I have to be able to convince them you’re dangerous so they’ll invite me to stay.”