“I’m not here to talk about myself,” Ty said.
“Very well, then.”
Cassidy shivered as another wave of cold washed over her. The room was so chilly, and the darkness only added to it. The place … it almost felt like a grave—a place devoid of warmth, of hope, of life.
She prayed for wisdom in handling this situation before it got out of control.
Chapter Twelve
After what seemed like hours, Barnabas returned, another man beside him.
Kaleb appeared to be in his thirties, with a square face and eyes that wouldn’t settle—the man’s gaze shot back and forth, like he didn’t know where to look.
Barnabas didn’t hold onto the man’s arm, but Cassidy felt as if he did. She couldn’t describe the feeling, only that Barnabas seemed to have some kind of control over Kaleb without actually touching him.
“Chief Chambers, this is Kaleb,” Gilead said. “Kaleb, Chief Chambers has some questions for you.”
Kaleb stepped closer, his gaze downcast. “What can I do for you?”
“Can you state your first and last name for me?”
“Kaleb Walker.”
“How old are you, Kaleb?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“And where are you from?”
“I live here.” Kaleb glanced at Gilead, who seemed to give his silent approval.
“Can you tell me about the incident that happened here tonight?” Cassidy continued.
“Yes, ma’am. I chose to be marked, to show I’m a part of this community. It’s a great honor to carry the mark of Gilead.”
She repressed a shiver. “A great honor. Why?”
“Because it means I’m officially a part of the group here. I’ve passed the initial initiation with members of the Council.”
Cassidy glanced at Gilead and raised an eyebrow. “Initial initiation?”
Gilead shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Just something to prove that members have the means and know-how to stay here and help provide for the community. We believe everyone should carry their own weight. If not, we ask that they return to where they came from.”
“I see.” She turned back to Kaleb. “May I see your mark?”
Kaleb looked back at Gilead again, who nodded. Once he was approved, Kaleb tugged his tunic up. He winced as the shirt brushed across his back.
Branded on his left shoulder was a symbol of some sort.
Cassidy squirmed at the sight of it. The mark itself looked deep. The edges of his skin were swollen and crisp. Blisters had begun to form around the burn.
The whole ordeal had to be incredibly painful. Cassidy could only imagine what it had felt like to have the scorching hot metal press against his skin.
Quickly, she scanned the rest of his back for any scars or other signs that he’d been whipped like their victim who’d washed ashore.
She saw nothing.
“Are you satisfied now, Chief?” Gilead asked.
“I suppose.”
“Very well, then. If you don’t mind, Barnabas will be escorting you back to your vehicle. It’s our time of rest. After a hard day’s labor, everyone is tired. It’s the good kind of tired. Proverbs 13:4 says that a sluggard’s appetite is never filled, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied. Sleep is the satisfying reward of the diligent, wouldn’t you say?”
“I agree.”
But Cassidy didn’t like the feeling in her gut as she walked away.
Ty clenched his hands into fists as he climbed back into Cassidy’s SUV. He waited until they were out of the gate to say anything.
“That place rubs me wrong in all kinds of ways,” he said.
“Me too.” Cassidy stared straight ahead, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “What did you think of that mark on Kaleb’s back?”
“It almost reminded me of a Hebrew letter or something.”
“I wondered that also. I’m going to try and look it up. Maybe talk to Pastor Jack.”
“Good idea.” Ty shook his head, trying to best articulate what he was feeling. “I can’t put my finger on it, Cassidy, but there’s something about that Gilead guy …”
“He knows more about us than he should.”
“And that scares me. But there’s more. I almost … I don’t know. I know it might sound strange, but I almost feel like I’ve met him before.”
She stole a glance at Ty, a knot between her eyes. “It was dark. Maybe he just had that kind of voice.”
“Maybe. But I’m not convinced that’s true.” Ty’s jaw tightened as he remembered their conversation. “That question he asked me about being in the military? It was pointed, Cassidy. It wasn’t an observation, but he was trying to watch for my reaction.”
Her lips pressed together. “I had that impression also.”
“And then there are those scars on your victim’s back. That reminds me of someone I rescued over in Iraq. A soldier who’d been taken captive and tortured.”
At his words, Cassidy pulled off to the side of the road and turned toward him. Strands of her hair escaped from her bun and were illuminated by the overhead glow of light. “You think my victim has a connection to you?”
“No, I’m not trying to say that, necessarily. I just think … that we need to proceed very cautiously.”
“We?” Cassidy questioned.
He stared out the window, all his Navy SEAL training rushing back to him.
At Gilead’s Cove, Ty had felt like he was on one of his missions and charged with protecting the people under his care. He’d tried to put his warrior side behind him, but it rustled to life now as pure instinct took over.
“Of course I want you to do your job, Cassidy,” Ty finally said. “I don’t want to interfere. But there’s no way I want you anywhere close to that guy without me being with you. Promise me.”
She stole another glance at him, her eyes narrow with concern, before nodding. “Okay, I promise. I can tell you feel strongly about this.”
“Something is going on here on this island, Cassidy. And I don’t like it one bit.”
Chapter Thirteen
Hunger gripped Moriah’s stomach.
She wasn’t used to not being able to eat when she wanted. But here, everyone only ate at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The schedule taught them self-control.
And there was no food to get anywhere else. There were no snack machines or stores. Each resident here got only one serving from the kitchen during mealtimes. That was it.
After everyone finished eating together, the kitchen crew came and took the plates. There was no chance to save any leftovers and take them back to her trailer.
But Moriah was hungry.
It was early morning, but if she went into the kitchen, maybe she could sneak a piece of bread—just something small to ease the grumbles in her stomach.
However, it was more than that. She felt shaky. Hypoglycemia had been a part of her life for the past three years. Sometimes, she just needed to eat in order to keep her blood sugar in check. Certainly Gilead would understand.
After getting dressed, she stepped out of her RV.
It was still dark outside, and a bitterly cold wind greeted her. She needed a coat. She wanted one. She’d always hated to be cold. Her mom had said she was born with ice in her veins.
But she would be strong and suffer to show her dedication to the cause. She would utilize mind over matter—just like Gilead had talked about yesterday during an afternoon enlightenment session. There were two per day, not including the morning prayer.
Yesterday’s session had reminded Moriah about why she was here. Gilead could speak into her life like no one else ever had been able to. It was as if he could see her soul and knew what she needed to hear.
As she hastened her steps, her conviction grew. She could practice the power of making right choices—whether that was with eating, feeling cold, or overcoming past struggles.
That was right—overcoming. She was an overcomer.
She was going to move beyond her past. Move beyond the labels people had given her. White trash. Loser. Not worth a person’s time.
Those were the nice insults. She’d heard far worse.
Everyone here had been so welcoming. No one looked at her with pity.
Somewhere in the distance, a stick broke.
She froze.
Was someone out there? Watching her?
Her lungs tightened, and she slunk from the center of the road to the edge. There were more shadows here to conceal her.
But she had to be careful.
When she heard nothing else, she continued.
There had been a commotion here last night, and Moriah wondered what that was about. She’d heard voices. Had seen lights. Certainly Gilead would explain what had happened during one of today’s sessions. There wasn’t anything to be worried about.
Her hands trembled. She really needed something to eat.
Finally, she reached the Meeting Place. She tugged at the door and it opened.
Thankfully.
She quietly stepped into the building and started toward the kitchen.
Halfway there, she heard voices and froze.
What if someone caught her?
They’ll understand. You have a medical condition.
Hunger propelled her actions. She was going to be an overcomer, but she couldn’t afford not to grab a little food. It was a necessity, not a desire.
She slipped into the kitchen and hid behind the wall next to the doorway, praying she wasn’t caught.
They’d understand.
Yet she didn’t feel confident of that. And she couldn’t afford to get kicked out. No, she needed to be here.
“Don’t worry—we have someone in place to handle this.”
That voice was Gilead’s, Moriah realized. Who was he speaking with? Where were they?
“Will one person masquerading in town—blending in—be enough to keep us one step ahead of the police?” someone else said.
“Yes, we’ll know exactly what’s going on in the town,” Gilead said. “There will be no surprises.”
“Good—because the police chief looked nosy.”
“Nothing is going to get in our way. God has ordained for us to be here, and He will provide for us. This is simply a precaution—like God sending Joshua and Caleb into Canaan to see if the ground was fertile, as we read in the book of Numbers.”
“Yes, Teacher. That makes sense. This person—our Caleb, our spy—will report back to us and let us know if anyone in town is suspicious.”
“Exactly. It should work out well for all of us.”
The voices faded—going upstairs, it sounded like.
Gilead really wanted to protect this area, Moriah realized. It was important to him that everyone retain their privacy, a fact she deeply appreciated.
If the government got involved, things would go south. Officials would try to dictate how they operated and who could be here. She’d seen it in action before. They couldn’t let that happen.
Her respect and admiration for Gilead grew.
He was their protector—and she desperately wanted a protector in her life.
Quickly, she grabbed some bread from a tray in the back of the kitchen. She shoved it in her mouth, eating as quickly as possible.
After wiping the telltale crumbs from her shirt, she paused. She would just take the rest of this loaf back with her. That way, if she ever needed food again, she wouldn’t have to sneak here to get it. No, she’d keep it somewhere safe in her room.
But she had to be careful. Because there were many rules here at Gilead’s Cove.
And with those rules also came punishment.
Chapter Fourteen
Cassidy hadn’t been able to sleep all night. Her mind was full of too many questions, especially after she’d gotten the picture that Trisha Hartman sent her of Al last evening.
He looked like an exact match to their John Doe.
Cassidy had also talked to Pastor Jack. She’d sketched a picture of the mark on Kaleb’s back and showed it to him. He thought the symbol looked like the Hebrew symbol “M.” His answer had been more complicated than that since the Hebrew and English alphabet didn’t match exactly. But at least it was something to start with.
She was creeping closer to answers, but Cassidy still had a lot of work to do.
Before the sun even rose, she went into the office and put in a request to assess Al Hartman’s finances. It would take a little while for the request to go through. But those results could tell her a lot about the man.
At eight, the agent from the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation would arrive.
Later on, Al Hartman’s estranged wife would come.
Cassidy also needed to get back with Dane and tell him he’d gotten the job. She knew he was staying on the island overnight, and she wanted to catch him before he left.
Sometime in between all that, she wanted to talk to the realtor who’d sold that land to Anthony Gilead. She wasn’t sure she’d get any rest at all on the island with that man here. No, this island was supposed to be a sanctuary. It was a safe place where people came to find themselves or to find peace—whichever came first.
What it wasn’t was a place where an evil man could hide out and hurt other people—with or without their permission.
She had no proof Gilead was evil. He’d covered his tracks nicely. But the moment he slipped up and Cassidy could prove it, he would be in her custody.
Just as she took a sip of her coffee, she heard a pounding on the door. As she poked her head out, she spotted Serena waving at her from the other side of the glass-front entry.
Serena was the college-aged niece of Cassidy’s friend Skye. The girl changed personalities like most people changed clothes. Serena had taken over Elsa, the ice cream truck that Cassidy had operated when she’d first moved here.
Today, Serena was dressed like cotton candy—in pink from head to toe. Her hair was even in pigtails, which made her look much younger than her twenty-one years. No doubt the girl had seen Cassidy’s car out front and had decided to stop by for a quick morning chat. It wasn’t entirely unusual.
“Hey, Serena. What’s going on?” Cassidy let the girl inside.
“I met someone.” Serena’s face glowed and matched her outfit.
“Did you? That’s exciting. Who is this guy?”
“His name is Dietrich, and he just moved to the island.”
Cassidy smiled, finding Serena’s enthusiasm to be contagious. “How did you meet?”
“He’s staying at a house on the island, and I was selling ice cream. He came out to buy some. He asked me if I would come every day, so I did. We started talking and boom! I think we really hit it off.”
“Has he asked you out?”
Serena made a face. “Well, no. Not really. But he’s going to. I can feel it.”
“Well, I hope he does. He must be a fisherman if he came here to vacation in March.”
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t ask. I mean, he doesn’t look like a fisherman. He looks like Ryan Reynolds, if you ask me.”
What had the two of them talked about? Ice cream? Serena didn’t seem to know that much about the man.
“Do you know how I know he’s the one?” Serena continued, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“Please tell.” Cassidy couldn’t wait to hear Serena’s take on love.
“Elsa keeps spontaneously playing ‘How Sweet It Is to Be Loved by You’ whenever Dietrich is around.”
Many people on the island still thought that Elsa the ice cream truck had a mind of her own. It was ridiculous. What Elsa had was a short in her wires. Ty had fixed it when Serena bought the vehicle, but Serena had asked him to “un-fix it.” She thought the rumors that the ice cream truck was haunted added to the charm of buying from her. She’d even set up an Instagram account for the truck.
Just as Serena took a step to the door, Cassidy spotted the NCSBI agent pull up.
“Will do!” And with a flutter of her hand, Serena was off, skipping away like she didn’t have a care in the world.
And, for a moment, Cassidy envied her.
Five minutes later, Cassidy and Agent Gabe Abbott were seated across from each other with coffee in hand. Melva had come in to monitor the front desk, so Cassidy’s door was now closed.
“Thanks so much for coming, Agent Abbott.” It made Cassidy feel better to know that the NCSBI, the State Police, Coast Guard, and marine police were all nearby to back her up when needed.
“Please, call me Gabe.” Gabe appeared to be in his late forties with short blond hair and a squarish face. She’d met a couple NCSBI agents before, but never Gabe.
“I trust you had a good trip here.”
“I actually came in late last night. It’s a good thing I did. I heard the ferry was shut down this morning because of rough waters.”
“That happens around here. Safety first.” Cassidy hadn’t heard about the ferry, but she made a mental note that Trisha Hartman might not be able to get here on schedule. That was too bad—even though Cassidy had already concluded that their John Doe was most likely her estranged husband.
Gabe shifted. “Your phone call has me curious.”
“We have a curious situation on our island.” Cassidy didn’t waste any time. She explained to Gabe how the old campground had been purchased, about Anthony Gilead, and all the strange goings-on that had occurred there. Gabe listened, not saying anything until she finished.
“It’s a very interesting situation, and I’m glad you brought it to our attention. When you sent me the name ‘Gilead’s Cove’ as well as ‘Anthony Gilead,’ I started doing some research. Coincidentally, there’s no Anthony Gilead that I can find record of.”
“Really? So he’s using an alias …”
“It would appear that way. And, as you know, that’s not a crime in itself, unless he legally misrepresents himself under another identity or assumes someone else’s identity.”
On the Lookout Page 8
