Righteous - 01 - The Righteous

by Michael Wallace

  The F-150 sat on the concrete slab. Its engine ticked as it cooled. They’d rolled down the windows so as not to turn the cab into an oven. It would be easy enough to step up and grab the folder without opening the door.

  She walked to the car, so nervous that she almost opened the door without remembering her earlier observation. She froze a second time with her hand poised outside the window. If she stopped now, she could still deny everything. She’d noticed the truck and came outside, curious.

  What would Jacob do?

  He wouldn’t freeze in place like an idiot, for one. Quickly now, she reached in and grabbed the folder. She undid the clasp and pulled out the stack of papers.

  At first she didn’t understand what she was looking at. All business stuff. There was a balance sheet and a bank statement. There were expense reports, credit card statements, and the lot. Eliza didn’t know what she’d been expecting—photographs of Taylor Junior murdering Amanda, perhaps?—but it hadn’t been this. She’d overheard their conversation and mistaken it for a part of the conspiracy.

  And then she did catch the Kimball name, first Taylor Junior and Elder Kimball, and then Gideon Kimball. There was a list of salaries paid, $125,000 in the case of Elder Kimball and $65,000 apiece in the case of his two sons. Looking further, she saw that these papers pertained to the Blister Creek Co-Op, which was the company run by the Kimballs and the Youngs to sell everything from fruits and vegetables to pies and beef jerky in farmers markets and small grocery stores in Southern Utah. Her own family belonged to a similar operation in Harmony.

  There was nothing suspicious about the papers, except for the bit about Gideon. He was an outcast. Why would he draw a salary? And then she saw something that made her even more surprised, someone with the initials E.N.C., also drawing a salary of $65,000. She recognized those initials at once, being as they belonged to her brother. Enoch Nephi Christianson. That he would draw a salary was even more surprising.

  A voice from behind her. “What are you doing, Eliza?”

  She turned with a startled gasp and dropped the papers. They scattered and the breeze turned them over. It was Eduardo.

  He bent to grab at the papers now blowing across the driveway. “Don’t just stand there. Give me a hand.”

  His words startled her into action and she bent to help. Eduardo put the papers back in the envelope. He returned the envelope to the truck, then turned with a sharp look.

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she said. “You’re no day laborer. And what was all that crap the other night about not wanting to speak English?” She was growing angry. “Yeah, what are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer. “Frankly, it’s none of your business. I just can’t believe you grabbed a bunch of papers out of my truck.”

  “Why are you trying to make this about me? You’re the one spying on us. I saw those papers. Talk about none of your business.” She was growing angrier now. “And the other night, what was that about? Some kind of game? Seduce the polygamist girl?”

  “Hey,” he said. He looked angry. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I didn’t seduce you. You came over to my house. You found me. You practically threw yourself at me.”

  That part was true enough, she thought guiltily. “Well, you could have said no. I was in way over my head. And I thought you liked me.”

  “I do like you, Eliza. Maybe I shouldn’t have done anything, but believe me, it wasn’t an act. And I did say no, remember?”

  Eliza softened. “Well, it was stupid.”

  “Probably. But I didn’t do anything that you didn’t want.”

  “Eduardo, what are you mixed up in? Do you have any idea how serious this is?” He didn’t reply. She glanced over his shoulder. Still no sign of Manuel and Stephen Paul. “Why did you come back to the truck, anyway?”

  “Stephen Paul said he had a guest. Had no idea it was you. I thought it might be a good idea to lock the truck. You know, in case someone got nosy.” He gave her a pointed look.

  She snorted. “Well, go ahead and lock up. But I’m serious that you’d better have a good explanation for what’s going on here. I already told my brother you were here,” she lied. “He’ll go straight to the prophet if he thinks you’re up to something weird, or if anything happens to me.”

  Eduardo took her by the wrist, but it was not an aggressive gesture. “Eliza, you can’t tell anyone else. That goes for Jacob, too.”

  “Eduardo, the more people who know, the better.”

  He shook his head. “Then it must not be what you think.”

  “Well?” She stared at him, willing him to tell her something to allay her fears.

  “Listen, I’ll talk to Manuel. Can you be patient for a few more hours? Please, Eliza.”

  She considered. What she needed was to talk to Jacob. In the meanwhile, she must be confident. “You can talk to Manuel. We’ll come by the trailer this evening. If you don’t give us a good explanation, we’ll go to Brother Joseph.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  #

  “I don’t know what this is all about,” Jacob told Eliza as they drove to the Mexicans’ trailer that evening, “but whatever you do, don’t mention the murders.”

  “You’re assuming they don’t know already.”

  “Right, I am. But if they’re here for something else, we’ll be causing ourselves a lot of trouble by mentioning Amanda.”

  “You think they could be cops?” Eliza asked.

  “I thought of that. But why are they here?” He thought about the clippings he’d found beneath Amanda’s mattress. He’d already shared the details with his sister. “Did they follow the trail of the murdered scientists? Then why all this undercover stuff? Why not get search warrants and be done with it?”

  He was proud of his sister for keeping her eyes and her ears open. The information about the murder in California had left him stunned and unsure where to turn. And then Enoch had called and that, combined with this business with the Mexicans, might be the key to unraveling the whole mystery.

  They’d driven west as if leaving town, then circled back around on a ranch road so as to conceal their movements. He didn’t want anyone to know that they were talking to the Mexicans.

  Elder Johnson had died in the middle of the night. First word had come to Blister Creek by afternoon. Shortly, a flurry of messages from Canada. One had been a text message from Dorothea Johnson, telling him to be patient and she would find another man from the Johnson family to marry his sister. Her father’s death was a blow, but she assured him that Jacob and Dorothea could still marry if they were patient.

  Jacob had reread the text message three times before coming to the conclusion that yes, she was serious. Someone had convinced Dorothea that he wanted nothing more than to marry her. This, apparently, had been the reason for Eliza to marry Elder Johnson, and not the other way around.

  He had written back, expressing condolences for her father’s death, and telling her that it was inappropriate to discuss marriage during this time of grief. Eliza was quite broken up over the death of her would-be fiancé, and did not want to talk about marriage at the moment, not to the Johnsons, or anyone else for that matter.

  There’d been a message from their father, asking about Stephen Paul. Did they like the man? And if not, was he willing to reconsider Taylor Junior?

  Jacob had been tempted to keep this information from Eliza, but he needed her to trust that he was fighting for her. That meant full disclosure. “Dad doesn’t know what Taylor Junior did the other night,” he assured her, “or he wouldn’t have sent that message.”

  They parked the car in the deep shadows between a farm house and the Mexicans’ trailer. It was partially obscured by a cottonwood tree. As they stepped outside, Jacob said, “There’s something else you should know.”

  “You mean, besides the fact that Father wants me to marry a would-be rapist? Or that Enoch might be mixed up with a Satan
ic cult?”

  “Yeah, besides that.” He considered how best to approach this. “Enoch called me this morning.”

  She dropped the ironic tone. “He did? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jacob admitted. “Sounded afraid and—I don’t know—unbalanced. Said something about an angel with a sword.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t press him. Maybe I was afraid he was losing his mind. He said he was ready to unburden his soul. Whatever that means. Confess? Rat out his co-conspirators? I don’t know, because he wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone.”

  “Does he want us to go back to Las Vegas?” she asked.

  “No. He’s coming here.”

  “But that’s good news, right? If he tells us everything, we’ll be able to put all the pieces together.”

  “Right, if it were that straightforward. Enoch said he can only tell me in the temple. It’s the only way to be sure.”

  “The temple?” she asked.

  “The Celestial Room, to be specific.” It was the most sacred space in the temple with the possible exception of the Holy of Holies. Eliza may not have been through the temple yet, but she would understand that much.

  “But he can’t get inside, can he? He’s been excommunicated.”

  Jacob said, “Right. And he’d never even been through the temple before he was ex-ed. Father never gave him the Melchizedek Priesthood. Only we saw that he was wearing temple garments, didn’t we? If there was any doubt, it’s gone now. He said he’d meet us at the veil. He knew what he was talking about, that’s for sure. This isn’t his first time.”

  Eliza looked uncomfortable. It was an unbreakable taboo, entering the temple without authorization. “I don’t understand. How did he get in?”

  “No idea,” Jacob said. “But somehow he’s been through and knows he can get back in. Maybe the Lost Boys have been taking out unauthorized endowments?”

  “And why the temple?” she asked again. “Why not meet us in Cedar City or St. George if he doesn’t think Las Vegas is safe?”

  It was a good question. “First, Enoch doesn’t think the others will look for him there. Maybe. Second theory. Enoch saw an angel, or thought he saw an angel. He might be wondering now if it’s an evil spirit. If it’s an evil spirit, it can’t follow him into the temple.”

  Eliza stopped short. They’d reached the last bit of shadow before stepping into the porch light of the Mexicans’ trailer. “But what if it was an angel?”

  “Come on, Liz. No angel told these guys to murder a young woman and consume her infant in a black mass. It’s either an evil spirit or a delusion. I vote delusion.”

  She shuddered, clearly fixing on the evil spirit. “Maybe Enoch thinks he’ll be safe in the Celestial Room. From the other Lost Boys, I mean. They wouldn’t dare attack him there.”

  “You think a man who’d tear out a woman’s tongue would respect the temple?

  “Well, no.” She looked more troubled, still.

  Jacob put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. “Me neither. In any event,” he added, “Friday morning is the day when you will go through the temple for the first time.”

  “Tomorrow?” She drew back. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Quite. I called Father back, but he was out, so I left a message. Told him my plans. Told him it was the best time to take out your endowment so you’d be ready to get married.”

  “But that’s not it?”

  “I want you with me when I meet Enoch. I don’t know what his mental state is. Not good. He might listen to you. I don’t know.”

  Eliza still looked stunned. “But I’m going through the temple? Really?”

  Nothing could prepare you for the temple. The details were never discussed on the outside. And there were warnings as you started and then the signs and tokens. And someone playing the role of Satan in the endowment and a reference to Satan’s own “priesthoods” which threw some people. Oh, and stripping your clothes off for the initiatory while strange hands anointed your body with oil.

  “Only we can’t do it alone,” Jacob said. “We can double up some of the roles, but we’ll need some help. I’m thinking Fernie and Charity Kimball and Stephen Paul and his brother, Aaron Young. Plus Enoch, who will draw us through the veil and into the Celestial Room.”

  “Stephen Paul won’t be happy to meet an apostate in the temple,” Eliza said. “And what about Charity? What if she tells her husband?”

  “It’s just an endowment, as far as they’re concerned. By the time Stephen Paul sees Enoch, we’ll be in the Celestial Room. And Enoch will tell us everything about the murder. My white lie to Stephen Paul will pale in comparison.”

  “And it has to be in the temple?” Eliza asked.

  Jacob nodded. “You know what Enoch said when he called? ‘We must have an endowment. Then I’ll tell you everything. There shall the veil be taken from thy mind and the eyes of thy understanding opened.’”

  Eliza blinked. “What does that have to do with endowment? Isn’t that where you learn what you need to enter the Lord’s presence after you die?”

  “Yes, symbolically,” Jacob said. “You learn the signs and tokens to give to the angels that stand as sentinels to the Celestial Kingdom. But that’s about ten minutes of the endowment ceremony. The rest is instruction and covenant to obey certain commandments. The thing is, we only take out our endowment once. Every time we go back after the first time, it’s to stand as proxy for someone who is dead.”

  The outside world mocked the Saints for performing ordinances for the dead in their temples, including celestial marriage and baptism. But if the Lord required these things for salvation, then temple work for the dead made perfect sense. Billions of people would die without ever knowing the truth. You either believed God excluded people from heaven for nothing more than being born in the wrong family, or you allowed a way for the dead to gain salvation.

  “Yes, I know that,” Eliza said.

  “So why not skip to the good stuff? Why repeat all the parts meant for living people? The covenants and oaths? Dead people don’t apostatize. Look, I’ve gone through the endowment about fifty times. I know it word for word. Ninety percent of it is for the living members of the church.”

  He waited patiently while she thought it over. At last she said, “Because it’s not about redeeming the dead, is it?”

  “No, it’s not. It’s about reconfirming your loyalty. And taking on a mantle of divine protection. When we enter the Celestial Kingdom, we will be endowed with the power of the Lord. Enoch, too. Nobody will be able to touch us there. Or so Enoch tells himself. Now,” Jacob added as he turned his thoughts to the matter at hand. “Let’s find out what these Mexicans are up to.”

  #

  Eduardo and Manuel were alone. The others—the two real Mexican laborers—had taken the truck to St. George. Manuel and Eduardo welcomed them inside and offered them seats on the couch. Eduardo offered them first an iced tea, and then a Coke. Those drinks were against the Word of Wisdom, so they declined.

  The two men remained standing. It was meant to make them feel uncomfortable, or at least assert their dominance. Jacob relaxed on the couch and Eliza tried to adopt his posture.

  “You know, then,” Manuel said, “why we’re here. Or, I assume, you have a pretty good guess after your sister rifled through my papers.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Jacob, which Eliza knew was a bluff. “Maybe we can help.”

  Manuel nodded. “Of course. It’s not up to us, but it might be possible to arrange a deal in return for your cooperation. That depends of course, Mr. Christianson, on your level of involvement.”

  “Please, call me Jacob. Or Brother Christianson, if you prefer.” He shook his head. “But my involvement is zero. I’ve done nothing illegal. Neither has my sister. I thought you’d know that.”

  “Even better. Then you’ll have no second thoughts. Now, Mr. Young—who is cooperating fully, you must know—told us that you are
an honorable man and no friend of the Kimballs. Is this true?”

  “We have our differences with the Kimballs,” Jacob said. “That’s true enough. But before we go any further, can I respectfully ask what you’d like us to do?”

  Manuel nodded. “Of course. The two of you are staying at the Kimball house, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  Well, Eliza thought, not anymore. It was no longer safe for them there. All their stuff was in the back of the Corolla. They’d sleep somewhere else tonight.

  “We need surveillance of the Kimball house. Stephen Paul, for all the information he shared, doesn’t have that kind of access.” Manuel reached behind the couch for a briefcase. “I have some bugs here. I need you to plant these in several places throughout the house. Bedrooms, living room, the telephone.”

  Jacob looked wary. “That’s quite a risk. The house is never empty.”

  “Which is precisely why we can’t enter ourselves. We’ve been trying for weeks to get work at the Kimball house itself. No dice.”

  “But what are you hoping to hear?” Eliza asked. “You think they’ll just talk about things in the open?”

  “Of course,” Eduardo said. He looked right at Eliza. “That’s the beauty of our disguise. There are no outsiders in your community. Just a few Mexican laborers with limited English. They won’t expect anyone to be listening.”

  Eliza nodded. Every word from the Mexicans left her more convinced that they were talking about something else, and not the murders. But what?

  “I hope you’ll excuse me, but may I please see your badge?” Jacob asked abruptly. “Are you state police? Federal?”

  Manuel reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a badge. “FBI. We’re the ones charged with investigating this type of fraud.”

  The word fraud brought everything into focus. Eliza had seen the salaries on the printouts from Stephen Paul. Evidence of salary, and evidence of profit from the co-op. What had been the discussion about “bleeding the beast?”