“You took out your anger on these women,” Sam said. He tried, and no doubt failed, to keep the disgust from his voice.
“They deserved it,” Clint snapped. He turned to face Sam, fire lighting his eyes, burning harsh against his damaged face. “Those women, thinking they were equal to a man. They aren’t, they’re, they’re…”
The uniformed officer shifted next to Sam, obviously gritting his teeth at the toxic garbage Clint Rudder spewed.
“Equal to men,” Sam finished. “In intellect, emotion and, sometimes, strength. But let’s focus on how you chose them. They beat you at a video game. So you raped and killed them.”
Clint turned his head back toward the wall. Sam kept going.
“Patti…we found the records. She beat you by over a million points. Jenny…she destroyed your record by double that. Marietta, a seventeen-year-old child, leveled up four more times than you.”
“Stupid girls,” Clint spat. “Those games were made for warriors. For men who go into combat and take down enemies. Women don’t know how to do that.”
Sam’s stomach pitched and rolled. He forced his hands to unclench. “So you forced yourself on them and then drowned them.”
“They needed to know who was in charge,” Clint muttered.
Much as Sam wanted to recoil like the uniformed officer standing next to him, he held firm in his position.
“Why Benadryl?”
“Because it subdued them. Kept them docile. Like women should be.”
Sam’s back teeth clicked together but he breathed through it.
“How did you find women in the Santa Fe area? I’m assuming you targeted them specifically?”
Clint’s eyes gleamed. “You can find out just about anything online. Plus, these women are stupid. They put a lot of information in their profiles. They’re begging for it.”
Sam almost asked what it was, but he had a good idea, and he was barely keeping a lid on his temper. He’d save that specific question for next time.
“And the cat?”
Clint’s lips quirked. “Ladies like cats. They let the cat into their homes. Let me see into their lives.”
Just as Sam suspected.
“How did you come up with the idea to video the women first?” Sam asked.
Clint shrugged. “Saw it on YouTube.”
“An InCel channel?”
Clint nodded. “I’m not saying anything else. I want a lawyer.”
He’d already given Sam a confession. Already given Sam enough, he hoped, to get an injunction against the involuntary celibate site to shut it down, too.
“Tell me—why go after Jeannette? Why abduct Cici?”
“Because you’re a cocky feminist being led around by the balls by that sanctimonious knees-closed bi—”
“Watch it,” Sam growled.
Clint might have tried for a smile but his face was too battered to tell.
“You and she both needed to be taught a lesson.” Clint managed to get his lips to quirk up in an ugly smirk. “The other one, the blond, seemed to think she could take me down. Instead, I put her in her place.”
Sam stepped back with a nod to the uniformed officer. They stepped from the room and Sam was able to draw a breath.
“He’s a sick, sick man,” the uniform said.
“He’s not the only one. There’s a growing number who have scuttled out and found a home on the internet.”
“The way he talked about women—I have a daughter. I wanted to punch him for speaking about any girl like that.”
Weariness settled over Sam but he blinked it back. He hadn’t wanted to be right—that he’d led Clint Rudder to Jeannette and Cici. But he had, and Jeannette suffered so much because of it.
“I understand,” Sam said.
Mrs. Sanchez marched up to Sam as he breathed in and out, trying to let go of some of the tension in his neck. Nothing would help—not until Clint Rudder wore the bright orange uniform of federal prison where he belonged, forever.
“I have a beef to pick with you, Samuel.”
Sam rearranged his features into a neutral expression, though he was vaguely amused and equally irritated that Mrs. Sanchez thought now was the best time for this conversation.
“Our Cecilia will not stop this insanity of putting herself in danger to help others without a firm hand. She needs babies to keep her busy and at home. That’s the only way she will stay away from this horrendous criminality.”
Sam saw Cici looking at him, worry pinching her features. Worry for him, after all she’d been through today. An idea began to take root. He winked at her. She smiled a little, still a bit grim.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Sam said, though he didn’t actually agree with Mrs. Sanchez’s assessment. He’d work with what he was given. He gave his attention back to the stout woman at his shoulder.
“I need to marry her before the baptism. Isn’t that what you told her?”
“Y-yes,” Mrs. Sanchez said, obviously taken aback by his easy agreement.
He bent his head in closer. “What do you think about this?”
Epilogue
Cici
To catch a husband is an art; to hold him is a job. ― Simone de Beauvoir
* * *
When Cici told Sam, Jeannette, and Bresdeen about how she took Clint down, he’d stared at her open-mouthed for a count of ten before he managed to clear his throat. “That’s…”
Jeannette fell asleep as Cici talked, shifting fitfully and Bresdeen kept a light hand over hers.
“It’s bad-ass, is what it is,” Bresdeen grumbled. “And, quite frankly, I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t have the evidence of Clint Rudder’s bashed-in face.”
Bresdeen’s mouth contorted before smoothing back out as he looked down at Jeannette. Something was going on there…something Cici wanted to probe. But now wasn’t the time.
“I learned from the best,” Cici said, squeezing Sam’s hand even as she thought of her enigmatic savior, Sterling. He would have smiled a little and dipped his head, reminding her that in this world, it was harm or be harmed. Her fingers spasmed over Sam’s. He switched their hand position so that he cradled her palm between both of his.
“Off the record,” Bresdeen said, “I wish you’d done more damage.”
Cici held the other man’s eyes for enough time for her to catch a glimpse of his pain and anxiety and deep-seated caring for Jeannette.
“Some battles have to be fought alone,” she said, her voice soft. She let her eyes drift to Jeannette. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need an army to help replenish your reserves.”
“What?” Sam asked, confusion settling over his face.
Cici chose not to explain—at least, not right then.
Bresdeen nodded, his gaze also drifting to Jeannette before he refocused on Cici, his mouth twisting in a pained grimace. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, either.”
“No. I wouldn’t. I don’t. But I’ll be part of the army,” she said.
Bresdeen offered a whiff of a smile. “Also off the record, I still have to send in a team to your father’s law firm.” Bresdeen’s lips twisted in disgust.
A chill sliced through Cici’s middle and she removed her hand from Sam’s to clutch her arms. Sam shifted next to her, his face a mask of discomfort. But Cici understood why Bresdeen told her—so she’d understand why Sam would end up in Scottsdale, maybe arresting her father. So she wouldn’t be too hard on Sam for doing his job, an important one.
Bresdeen didn’t wait for her to answer.
“Now, my understanding is you have services starting in a couple of hours—I spoke with Lucinda Sanchez, and she informed me her reverend didn’t make contingency plans for today’s sermons.”
Cici allowed the dismissal because Bresdeen was close to cracking—something she instinctively knew he didn’t want Sam to witness. Plus, she didn’t understand the dynamic between Jeannette and the stern older man yet, which left her unable to pick her way through the
emotions certain to litter that field.
Giving a sermon on no sleep…yeah, not her idea of a good time. Sure, she’d downed the equivalent of a pot—more?—of coffee in the past four hours. And she had much to be thankful for.
Evan sat in the front row pew right next to Sam. Both of them wore dark suits. The somber color reminded Cici that life wasn’t always easy or pleasurable—sometimes it was a downright struggle out of deep-seated pain, but the fact they were here and could breathe in its many gifts was the greatest opportunity—one Cici refused to squander.
She only hoped she continued to live justly. She wasn’t loving her neighbor as she should, and the realization troubled her. But she also learned over the last few weeks the importance of friends, of the mightiness of the Lord and his fury, as well as his grace. She wasn’t sure how that all fit in her faith, but she had to trust she’d figure it out.
And hopefully not have to bust out of trunks with antique concho belts and tire irons.
When they got to the part of the service where Cici gave her sermon, she rose, straightening the pale blue tea-length dress Sam had asked her to wear. She’d planned to put her robes over the dress since it was a little fancier than her normal Sunday attire, but Mrs. Sanchez clucked over her vestments when Cici arrived at the church.
“I spilled coffee on this set, and the others are at the cleaners,” Mrs. Sanchez said. Cici sighed, realizing that this was going to be a long, somewhat frustrating day.
At least she looked nice. Well, as nice as she could with a scab on her forehead, new lacerations around her wrists and her foot in a cumbersome black boot.
Before she could step to the space at the center of the altar where she normally began her sermon, Sam, Evan and Mrs. Sanchez hurried forward, Sam looking nervous while Evan and Mrs. Sanchez beamed smiles as they flanked Cici. Evan turned and winked at her.
“As many of you know, the Rev here has been through a rough couple of weeks,” Sam said. Cici jolted, mouth gaping. He wore a small microphone, much like her own. In fact, it was one of the church’s mics.
“She broke her ankle tumbling off a mesa last week in Chaco, thanks to bad luck and military training exercises gone awry.” Bresdeen and his bosses, the highest levels of the federal government managed to keep the details of the Russian operation to start a civil war amongst native tribes and the rest of the country quiet. Cici had only been allowed to tell her congregants she got caught in a military training exercise.
Still, the packed house nodded, leaning forward, almost expectant.
“And last night, Cici saved a federal agent from drowning after she, herself, was abducted.”
Cici felt her cheeks flame as Sam spoke.
“She won’t want any of this praise,” Sam said. He, too, bore the marks of fatigue with circles under his eyes. “But she deserves it. She also can’t seem to keep out of trouble, and it occurred to me last week, in Chaco, and again last night when I drove to Tesuque—”
“You never told me how you found me,” Cici said.
The congregation might have expected a sermon but they were getting something better—a peek into their woman-of-cloth’s intimate life. No one fidgeted as they waited, spell-bound, to hear the reply.
Sam grinned. “That was sheer brilliance on my part. Your earrings have GPS tags.”
Cici raised her hand to her ear. “Say what now?”
The rumbles of irritation stirred as she considered Sam’s invasion of her privacy. But, then, it died and she realized how lucky she was that he thought to put tracking devices in her jewelry. Those minuscule beacons were the reason she was still alive.
“I’m glad you did,” she said, her voice shaking. Lack of sleep made her more emotional more quickly. “I’m so thankful you found me in time.”
He walked up to her and cupped her cheek as he liked to do. She closed her eyes and pressed closer to him.
“Me, too. But I also realized something important. I didn’t have access to you when you were in the hospital.” This time, Sam seemed a little teary-eyed. “You are my life, but I have no control over yours. So, I’m going to ask you to do something for me.”
He dropped down on his knee and Cici’s eyes went so wide she saw double for a minute. “Yes, I’m going to ask you to marry me. Yes, I know we haven’t been dating in the traditional sense for very long, but we’ve spent years together, getting to know each other, falling more in love. Plus, Mrs. Sanchez gave her approval for the congregation.”
Sam glanced over at the pews where the members caught on. Most stood and clapped. There were even some whistles and a couple of cat-calls. In her church.
“Right,” Sam said. “So, they’re all on board with the plan. You and I…we’ve talked about it. Now, I want you to commit. To me. Forever. Because I did that to you years ago. And I promise to continue to be yours until the day I…” He got a sudden gleam in his eye and instead of saying die as she’d expected, Sam said. “For forever and ever.”
He was thinking of Aci. She knew it. She smiled at his thoughtfulness and nodded at him. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Sam opened the box and slid a gorgeous, large purple stone on her finger. The rest of the band was silver. No, Cici decided. Platinum. A stronger metal, more in line with Cici’s vision of what a ring represented. He’d known of her preferences and sought out the best option.
He rose with a slight grimace and pressed a kiss to her lips, tugging her closer, but gently.
The hundreds of people in the pews laughed and clapped. A few of the littlest members said in high strident voices, “What’s going on?” and “I can’t see!”
Sam set Cici slightly away but kept his arm around her, his fingers curled into her waist as he turned back to face the pews.
“Evan, here, is Cici’s good friend. He planned to marry Cici’s identical twin sister last year.”
That somber reminder lowered the rambunctiousness of all but the youngest people in the crowd. Most stared at Sam, faces solemn.
“He planned to be Cici’s family, and they’ve worked hard to make that a reality, without Anna Carmen. It’s been a challenging journey for them, but Cici, as ever, persevered in what she knew to be right. Which is why, when I cooked up this idea, Evan had one of his own.”
“I’m here to stand next to Sam,” Evan said. “As his best man but also as the brother I always wanted to be to you, to hand you over to Sam in marriage.”
At Cici’s round-eyed look, Sam chuckled. “That was Evan’s idea. He wanted to be more than the best man. Mrs. Sanchez has some flowers and even offered to be your matron of honor. That is, if the ordained ministers in the sanctuary would come forward, please,” Sam said raising his voice. “I’d really like to marry your reverend.”
“Now?” Cici gasped.
“No better time. And I’m seriously not letting your father make life-and-death decisions for you as next-of-kin.”
Cici’s mouth slammed shut and she nodded.
“You planned this,” she said. “With Mrs. Sanchez.”
“At the hospital. Yep,” Sam said. He smiled.
She turned to look at Evan. “When he told me about asking you to marry him today, I told him it would be even better if he married you,” Evan said. “We both know you can’t predict tomorrow, Cici. Grab your happy.”
Cici gasped as Evan pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“That’s why you wanted me to wear this dress,” she said to Sam.
“I did. She handled most of the logistics.” Sam kissed her knuckles near her engagement ring. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Are my robes stained?” Cici asked.
Mrs. Sanchez shook her head, then crossed herself, offering up an apology to the cross behind the podium.
“It is okay,” Cici said, still somewhere between shocked and thrilled he’d gone to all this trouble. “I’m just…I’m in shock. What about the license?”
Sam smirked. “It’s New Mexico—no waiting period or blood tests.”
Sam winked. “Lydia’s the head clerk.” Sam dipped his head toward an older woman with pure white hair, beaming at Cici from the left side, near the water feature that ran the length of the sanctuary. “Even though it was after hours, she graciously provided the documents.”
“You did this—” Cici glanced around, eyes wide, out of words. “We don’t have rings,” she said.
“We do, actually,” Sam said, looking a little sheepish. “This gets a bit complicated to explain…The jeweler that Evan used to buy Anna Carmen’s ring is in your congregation. She remembered the rings you’d liked when you were in there with your sister. She brought them today—she based your ring size on your twin’s, and I gave her mine. They’ll fit.”
The jeweler rose from one of the middle pews in the center of the church. “They’re my wedding gift to you,” she called.
Cici remembered the mics were on, and everyone could hear her conversation with Sam.
“Thank you so very much,” Cici called back. “What a lovely gift.”
“Are you kidding?” the jeweler crowed. “This is the happiest church service I’ve ever attended.” The rest of the congregation chuckled.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cici said. Again her church members chuckled.
She glanced around as four of her congregants shuffled out of their pews and down the aisles toward the altar where she stood next to Sam. Everyone else resettled in their pews, smiling.
Mrs. Sanchez met them all with the sacraments of the office. Then, the older woman strode up to Cici and shoved a bouquet of peonies, roses, gerbera daisies and calla lilies in her hands. The peonies made the bouquet large and the flowers weren’t normally assembled together, but they were all of Cici’s favorites, in hues of purples, dark pinks, and pale blues. Her favorite colors.
“He told me what to get,” Mrs. Sanchez said, squaring her shoulders so she stood next to Cici with her own equally large bouquet. Of course.
“And he had me buy ten of those big cakes from Chocolate Maven. Lord, they were pricey.”
A Revelation of Death Page 24
