But she wouldn’t let him get away with it anymore. She’d leave Paradise and take Martha with her.
Fleetingly, she thought of the good people who’d been misled as she had. She wished she could tell them about her experience in Willcox, explain that Ethan couldn’t be a prophet if he allowed Bart to do things like that.
Maybe if she told them she was leaving, some of the other Covenanters would go, too. They deserved to be warned. But there was always the chance they’d think her wrong. How many times had she heard someone say that Martha had been seduced by Satan? They’d likely say the same about her. Maybe one of them would even turn her in.
No, if she expected to get Martha out alive, she couldn’t tell anyone. She had to work in the utmost secrecy.
As they got close to Paradise, Bartholomew used his CB radio to contact the compound. He spoke to the guard at the gate and asked him to convey a message to Ethan that must’ve been in code, because Sarah couldn’t understand a word of it. She didn’t think much about that at first. She was too consumed with her plan to slip out of the compound after dark and go to the authorities. But once they arrived and there wasn’t a soul around, not even at the gate, she knew the message had been a cue for Ethan to call everyone inside. That way, no one would see Bart driving through Paradise with Martha bound and gagged in the backseat.
Then it occurred to her: If Bart planned to keep Martha’s recapture a secret, he wouldn’t want someone who knew the truth walking around.
Rachel was dedicated; he had to hand her that.
Nate looked over to see her leaning against the door, bracing every time they hit a bump. He’d offered to stop and get her some Tylenol but she refused to let him take the extra time. She’d said she didn’t want it to dull the pain, that the pain would help her behave in a more believable manner. But he didn’t think she was going to have any problem convincing the Covenanters that he’d beaten her. Anyone who saw her face looking as it did right now would readily accept the story they’d concocted.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as they approached Portal. He’d tried to get her to lean on him. But she wouldn’t.
“Like I’ve been decked,” she mumbled through her swollen lip.
“Maybe you should’ve given yourself a black eye.”
She didn’t lift her head. “Do black eyes hurt less?”
He thought about it for a second. “No, not really. And they take longer to heal. The lip’s better.”
“That’s comforting.”
He winced, remembering when she’d hit herself with that damn door. “I hope Martha appreciates this.”
“I hope she’s around to appreciate anything.”
Rachel’s resistance to him bothered him even more now than it had earlier. He didn’t know why. “So what will I do while you’re up there?” he asked. He already knew he’d drive himself crazy wondering what the hell was going on and whether or not she was safe. They probably had his computer. The moment they were able to access his files, they’d know she was a cop.
“The dog pen’s still broken.”
He sent her a dirty look, and she tried to laugh but groaned instead. “Ow! Why’d I have to hit myself so hard?” she complained, and sat up to examine the damage in the rearview mirror.
“Because you wanted to leave a mark, remember?”
She wrinkled her nose at her reflection. “This is Martha’s best chance of survival.”
“I need something to use for transportation while you’re gone,” he said. Before leaving Willcox, he’d found an electronics store and bought himself a new laptop. He’d also considered renting a car, but they couldn’t look as if they’d prepared for this split. It had to seem spontaneous.
Shoving the mirror away, she slumped in her seat. “Why won’t you have the truck?”
“Because you’ll have it. I don’t want you up there without transportation.”
“But taking the truck won’t help. If they accept me into the group, they’ll only confiscate it.”
“Maybe not immediately.”
“There’s no way to be sure. I’d rather you have it than risk losing it. If they take it, we’ll both be on foot.”
The idea of Rachel being on her own and without wheels in this situation made Nate even less thrilled with their current plan. He wanted the assignment to hinge on him, not her. But he couldn’t figure out how to manage it. The Covenanters, especially Ethan, were far more receptive to her, although Nate didn’t really want to dwell on the reason for that.
“So how will you get up there?” he asked.
“I’ll have to beg a ride from someone besides you.”
They were just coming up to the café. He jerked his head toward it. “What about asking Thelma?”
“She’s my best bet. It’s not like I could ask Courtney’s mother.”
“That would look a bit strange.”
She adjusted her seat belt. “I’ll drop you off at the trailer and drive back to the café. Then I’ll leave the keys in the ignition as if I was so upset I just ran in. You’ll have to walk over to retrieve it, but you can handle three miles. Then you’ll have the truck, I’ll have my ride and—”
“And Thelma will think I’m a son of a bitch for pounding on you,” he broke in. “I’ve had to play a lot of parts, but—” he rubbed his neck “—I gotta tell ya, I prefer the role of a drug dealer, even a murderer, to a wife beater.”
She grinned, despite the pain, and it did him some good to see her bounce back from her injury. “You’ve got the self-esteem to handle it.”
Maybe he could tolerate ruining Thelma’s good opinion of him. But it killed him to think that Abby would also see and believe the worst. “You know how to hot-wire a Jeep, right?”
“Stop worrying.”
He couldn’t, but he drove the rest of the way in silence. As soon as he parked, she opened the door, hopped out and came around to replace him at the wheel.
“Aren’t you going to pack?”
“No. I can’t act as if I had all day to do this. I’ll say that after fighting for most of the night, we got into it again at dinner, things got out of control and I grabbed the keys and ran out.”
He remained where he was.
“Hurry up! I’ve got to go,” she prodded.