by Blake Pierce
Mackenzie turned to him and gave him a playful smile. Ellington, though, apparently did not find it all that funny. He shrugged and headed for the door. “Fine,” he said. “I guess I’ll just hang out in the car.”
“Thank you,” Amy said and then, after a pause, said: “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said as he headed back outside.
When the door was closed behind him, Amy slumped back into the couch. She slurped down most of the tea and took a very deep breath. “If they knew I was about to tell you all of this, they’d kill me, too. Hell, they probably already have plans to do it on their radar.”
“People within the Community, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“What do they do there, Amy? Why are these women trying to escape?”
“From any regular perspective, the Community seems like a natural and moral place—albeit deeply seated in religious roots and practices. But they have this aura about them that makes them look innocent. For the most part, everyone leaves them alone. But it’s just an evil place. And no, I don’t think I’m exaggerating by using that word.
“I don’t know if you know the history of the place, but what the Community is now is this off-shoot of sorts—a fundamentalist sect that broke off from their primary religion decades ago, sometime in the forties, I think. Now, it’s more like a prison. Once you’re in, you’re in. And that goes double for the women.”
“They practice polygamy there, right?”
Amy nodded. It was clear that she was still having to dig for the energy to talk, but she was doing an astounding job.
“The women are married off as soon as they turn eighteen. There have even been cases where, if a man wants the girl badly enough, they are forced to marry at sixteen. All of the marriages are arranged and there are some men there that have as many as five wives. Sometimes the marriages are even to family members. But when anyone within the Community says anything negative about these practices, they are ridiculed and beaten. Especially the women. When the women are beaten, it is done in front of everyone—to teach the woman a lesson and let the rest of them see what could happen to them.”
“Amy…were you part of it? Is that how you know?”
“Yes,” she said. The word came out like a strangled croak. “I escaped two years ago. I was forced to marry my cousin on the day I turned eighteen. I screamed and fought it the entire time, all the way through the wedding night. No one cared. Not even the other women who had been through the same thing. Maybe that’s not true; maybe they cared. Maybe they cared but were just too afraid to speak up. The women there…they’re really no better than slaves. They’re beaten, they’re raped—sometimes by multiple men if the so-called husband is feeling generous—and are expected to raise the kids to buy into that same system. I mean…can you imagine being a woman married to someone they didn’t want, raped on a regular basis, raising girls to accept that it’s just the way of things and raising boys to expect that level of control over a woman?”
A creeping nausea had settled into Mackenzie’s stomach at hearing all of this. There was anger, sure, but there was also the built-in skepticism that came with any good agent. She did her best to level both of those sides out as she sat on the other end of Amy’s couch.
“How did you manage to escape?” Mackenzie asked.
“I just decided to get brave and try it. I lived in one of the shacks closer to the back of the grounds with my so-called husband. After a year or so of routine, I knew how his nights went. I waited for one of the nights when he snuck a few nips of the bourbon he kept hidden beneath one of the floorboards—alcohol is prohibited, though some of the higher-ranking men do it anyway. After he drank, it was like clockwork. He’d wait until he was buzzed and then come to me. It was always rough after he drank but afterwards, he would pass out. Like, deep snoring, nothing was going to wake him up.
“The moment I heard him snoring, I left the shack and ran to the back of the property. I didn’t stop a single time. I had it in my head that it was going to happen—that I was going to escape. From the instant my foot hit the ground outside, I just moved forward as fast as I could. At the back of the property, when I came to the gate, I made it all the way to the top before I slipped and fell. But even that didn’t stop me. I got right back up and scaled it again. About ten minutes later, I was on the edge of a back road. Half an hour after that, I thumbed a ride to Salt Lake City.
“I lived on the streets for a while, until I got desperate enough to trust law enforcement. At the Community, it’s drilled into us that we can’t trust anyone on the outside, much less a system of laws created by sacrilegious governments. But I was starving and cold and had no choice. So I took the gamble and went to the police. Right away, it was clear they had heard certain things about the Community and even then, I knew it was a slippery slope. But they took the things I told them—the very same things I just told you—and they spent a year or so trying to build a case. It was pretty hard and it all fell apart in the end. Once the Community started to moan about their religious freedom being attacked, that was it. The cops and the FBI all backed off.”
“So there were never any arrests?”
“None. As far as I know, the bureau only paid one visit to the place and never even made it on the grounds. They were too scared to push too hard. I get it, I guess. Attacking what people claim is their religious right could get very messy. But I’m telling you…it’s not religion they practice. It’s ritual abuse and slavery. Now, the FBI did offer me witness protection after I came clean, so I’ve lived relatively safely since then. Until now, I suppose.”
“So, if Todd Thompson was telling me the truth, you’ve been working to help the women that are brave enough to escape. Is that right?”
“I’ve tried. I worked that deal out with Mr. Thompson so these women could get a head start—so they could avoid the mistakes I made at first. When I got witness protection services, they gave me a social security number, changed my name, and helped me find somewhere to work and live.”
“And you think the case you presented fell apart just because of them crying about religious freedom?”
“I think that started it, yes. But I also found out that there are male members of the Community that have their hands in many large businesses. Some of them seem to also have ties, somehow, to politicians in Washington. So the religious freedom bullshit has a preliminary cover, but it also doesn’t hurt to have friends in high places.”
“So then how did you come to meet with women like Bethany?”
“Bethany escaped, too. She’d been free for about eight months now. I let her stay here, and she hasn’t been the first. There are two others that have come to me and then have gone out into the world. One is living in Texas right now, working as an intern at a pharmaceutical company.”
“So you’re running some sort of underground railroad for women that manage to escape?”
“More or less. But…”
She stopped here and let out a sob that seemed to come out of nowhere. She shook it away, but when she continued to talk, it was through tears.
“…but I failed them. Marjorie, Bethany, and now this new one…”
“You think someone is killing them so they won’t be able to tell about the things that happen at the Community?”
“Yes. And Marjorie…she was close. She was right there,” she said, pointing out her window and to the street beyond. “She almost made it.”
“So what about tonight? What was the plan?”
“We got word from a contact within the Community that another girl was leaving.”
“You have a contact on the inside?”
“I do. And please forgive me, but there is no way in hell I am giving you her name. I can’t risk putting her in that sort of danger.”
“How do the other women in the Community even know to go to her?”
“I don’t know. I think she seeks them out, actually. Most women are perfectly fine to live there,
to have that life. But the ones that are unhappy are easy to spot. Anyway, we arranged a time and a place. Bethany left to pick her up and…I guess someone knew.”
“You think the insider working for you is tipping someone else off?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t even considered it. But…I suppose it’s a possibility. Oh my God…I don’t even know what to do now. Did I get them all killed?”
“No. You gave them hope.” She knew it sounded cheesy and she hated that she had so openly revealed her true feelings about all that she had heard. But she had to say something. If everything she’d just heard was true, this poor young woman had been through hell, and was trying to provide others an escape from it.
“Other than the recent murders, you say there are only two others who have successfully made it out?”
“That I know of. There could be others who left on their own. If so, I never heard about it.”
“If you can give me the names of those two, I’ll do what I can to have agents check in on them, just to make sure. I’ll make sure a local officer or two is set up outside of your house while the case is active as well. If there is someone out there actively killing women that escaped…”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll give you names. Just…can you promise me one thing?”
“Sure.”
“If you end up out there, try talking to the women. The men will do everything they can to keep it from happening, but you have to push. That place is airtight when it comes to keeping their secrets in. I don’t know if anyone has ever really pushed hard enough.”
“Fortunately,” Mackenzie said, “I have a knack for pushing.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mackenzie sat in stunned silence for about a minute or so, trying to put it all in place. While she typically would look for holes or cracks in stories like the one she’d just heard, she knew that it had all the markers of being genuine. There were people that Amy was willing to give the names of that could verify the lurid claims she’d made. There would be police officers who had taken her statements when she’d come forward with her story. So for Amy to lie about this would be very foolish.
Everything pointed to her telling the truth. She even had Todd Thompson’s illegal activities to back up her story. And perhaps most damning of all was the fact that Mackenzie didn’t think anyone on the planet could act out that much grief and horror if it wasn’t genuine.
“I can put a scare into them,” Mackenzie said. “All I’d need to do is make a few calls and coordinate a raid against the place.”
“That was one of the ideas that came up when the first case was started,” Amy said. “But when they were planning it, they realized the danger of it. If even one person in the Community managed to get off free after a trial, the potential for danger for the women in the Community would be astronomical.”
It was a consequence Mackenzie had considered but, in her absolute disgust over all she had heard, managed to ignore. But hearing this woman who had been there and endured so much made it a bit more real. Of course they could not risk such a thing.
“If it came down to it, do you think we could get the other escaped women to testify?”
“I don’t know. But I doubt it. It’s just too risky.”
This is a mess, Mackenzie thought. Once again, she was reminded of McGrath telling them how the local branch of the bureau had tried their best not to get involved—which was why Mackenzie was here in the first place.
“I wish I could explain it better,” Amy said. “I was basically starving, freezing on the street, and damn near out of my mind before I caved and went to the police. That’s how scared I was. That’s how deep they ensnare you. And even if they did think it might be a good idea to go public, the fact that recently escaped girls are being killed would be enough to silence them. Even after they’re out of the Community, the assholes still there are finding a way to make examples out of them. You see that, right?”
She didn’t. But the more Mackenzie’s anger grew, the more she absolutely wanted to see it.
“I understand your concerns,” Mackenzie said. “So let’s do this for now: call the two women you know of. Make sure they are still okay. Let them know what’s going on and that someone at the FBI is going to have someone check in on them. But make sure they do everything they can to live life the exact same they have the past few years. Can you do that for me as soon as possible?”
“Yes, of course. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to pay a little visit to the Community.”
“What if they won’t let you in?”
The mere idea of getting any sort of resistance from them set a fire deep down in Mackenzie’s stomach. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” she said.
The confidence in the statement was perhaps a bit callous, but she meant every word of it.
***
Ellington sat slack-jawed behind the steering wheel. Mackenzie had just told him everything Amy Campbell had relayed to her. He looked puzzled and slightly disgusted. They still sat in front of Amy’s house, not wanting to move before they were both comfortable with what needed to happen next.
About ten seconds after Mackenzie finished retelling the story, Ellington sighed. “If her story is true, how in the hell have they gotten away with it for so long?”
“Using religious freedom as a shield,” Mackenzie answered. “Amy says she’s also fairly sure that some of the more powerful members have powerful friends.”
“And you think they’ll just let us come on in and pay a visit if we pull up at eight o’clock in the morning?”
“I think I can be pretty convincing when it comes to things like that.”
“You got me there.” He chewed on it all a while longer and shook his head. “If she was telling you the truth, she was pretty much acting as a hero. You think every bit of it’s true?”
“I’m trying to look past maternal instinct and the fact that I’m a woman, identifying with another woman. But yes, I think she’s one hundred percent legit.”
“These closed-off communities are nothing new, I suppose,” Ellington said. “Under the banner of religious freedom, they feel like they have some sort of immunity—and when you get right down to it, I guess they do. There are supposedly reports on at least seventy similar communities at the bureau. From what I understand, it was a mid-tier topic that got escalated back when everything went down in Waco with David Koresh.”
Thoughts of the ATF raid on Waco back in ’93 spun through her head. She had been quite young when the event occurred, but she’d seen replays and re-broadcasts of it throughout her life. She didn’t think things would get that bad in Fellsburg, Utah, but then again, the mere idea of men treating women in such a way in current times was beyond appalling. If men could behave in such a way, were there any limits to their behavior?
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Mackenzie said. “We have to go pay them a visit.”
“You know where it is?”
“No, but I bet Burke does.”
As she went to dig out her phone, she was surprised when Ellington’s phone started ringing. He grabbed it from his pocket, read the display, and let out a curse. He showed the caller display to Mackenzie.
It was his mother. Right away, Mackenzie wondered what sort of self-sabotaging behavior her mother had experimented with after their call last night. It was rare that Ellington’s mother ever called, so Mackenzie was expecting the worst.
“Hey, Mom,” Ellington answered. “How are things?”
As she started answering, he placed the call on speaker so Mackenzie could hear, too. “Patricia and I were having breakfast with Kevin and started talking about the work you both do. That led to talking about how we felt the traditional roles of marriage should work and that turned into a petty heated argument.”
“You two are pretty sad, you know that?” Ellington asked.
“Son, I did all I could. She’s actually a rather pleasant woman, but the smallest things
seem to set her off.”
“Mrs. Ellington,” Mackenzie said, “I do apologize for that. Is she there right now? Is she listening in?”
“No, dear. That’s what I’m calling. She got really mad over this…over this stupid little argument. She gave Kevin a kiss on the cheek and then headed out. Said she was going to go to the airport and get out of here as soon as she could. Now, those are her words, not mine.”
Mackenzie held back a curse. She grabbed her cell phone and stepped out of the car, pulling up her mother’s number. She wasn’t sure if she had ever actually cursed her mother out before, but it was sure as hell about to happen.
The phone rang four times and went to voicemail. Enraged, Mackenzie killed the call and, rather immaturely, tried again. She got the exact same result.
“Bitch,” she hissed through her teeth.
When she got back into the car, Ellington was ending the call with his own mother. He looked calmer than he had when she’d gotten out, but then again his mother was at least rational about most things. Yes, she could be overbearing at times but she knew how to function as an adult.
“You okay?” Ellington asked her.
“No,” she said. “Is your mother okay to keep Kevin by herself?”
“Yes. She’s good for at least three days. If we think the case is going to take any longer than that, I just need to let her know as soon as we can. What about your mother?”
“No clue. She’s not answering her phone.”
“Do we—”
She shook her head as she looked to her phone again. “I’m not talking about her right now. I have to put that out of my mind. Right now, I’m going to see if Burke can tell us how to get to the Community.”
“You think you’re in the mood for that sort of thing?”
She only nodded but was thinking: This is the exact mood I’d like to be in if someone tried to keep me from coming inside or pulling the “religious freedom” bullshit on me.
She knew it was a dangerous way to think, but quite honestly, it felt good. She thought of the fear in Amy’s eyes, then saw the three bodies of the recently murdered young women and anger seemed to be the only appropriate response.
