Righteous - 01 - The Righteous

by Michael Wallace

  “Just run,” she urged them. “Put me down and run. I’ll slow you down. Put me down and you can get away.”

  “Yes, go ahead and put her down,” Gideon said. “Put her down and I’ll bash her fucking head in. How does that sound, Eliza? No, then shut up.”

  They weren’t lost. Gideon had just taken time to walk through the area closest to the temple, already confused with multiple sets of footprints. Disguising the trail. He soon led them out of the sand and onto the bare rock. It was a low-lying hump of stone that gashed into the middle of Witch’s Warts and when it sank back into the ground some thirty yards further, it ended just before another lip of stone. Gideon jumped over the sandy gap. Israel passed her across to Gideon then took her back a moment later. They continued over stone.

  The two stopped briefly when they emerged onto sand again a couple of minutes later. Israel dropped her to the ground while the men stripped off their temple robes and stuffed them behind a boulder.

  They’d only been in the open for ten minutes, but already sweat drenched their clothes. Israel bent to pick up Eliza, still dressed in white, except for the green apron.

  She said, “Just let me go. You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Israel turned to Gideon. “She’s right. What’s the point of this?”

  “Of what?” Gideon snapped.

  “The girl. Let’s leave her.”

  Gideon scowled. “You know what the point is. She’s my wife.”

  “No, I’m not, you bastard,” Eliza said.

  Israel said, “Your so-called wife is slowing us down. I don’t know if this is a pissing match with your father or if it has something to do with Jacob Christianson. Or maybe even Taylor Junior. Doesn’t matter. There are two armed gentiles back there. Not to mention Jacob and my cousin. We can move twice as fast without her.”

  “She’s not going back.”

  “She doesn’t have to go back,” Israel said. “We’re close now to where we left the old man.”

  “What old man?” she asked. She felt a trickle of fear.

  In response, Gideon yanked off her shoes, tossed them to one side, and then stripped off her socks. He tied the socks together and then used them to gag her.

  Israel said, “We’ve got to go. And we can’t take the girl.”

  Gideon blinked at Israel without answering, then turned and slammed his fist into the sandstone wall. He turned with his face shaking with anger and blood streaming from his knuckles. A moment later and he was as calm as ever.

  “You’re right,” he said at last. Voice measured. He wiped his knuckles on his shirt. “Pick her up. We’ll dump her in the sinkhole.”

  #

  The trail grew jumbled at the edge of Witch’s Warts. Kids often played along its outskirts, and Jacob himself had added to the confusion as he’d wandered around, looking for clues to Amanda’s murder. There were too many footprints to decipher.

  Abraham Christianson and Brother Joseph had remained in the temple with Fernie and Charity. The prophet had called one of his sons to join them. The Lost Boys were drugged and now bound; Jacob didn’t expect further trouble from them.

  Jacob found the presence of the two FBI agents comforting, together with the determined figure of Stephen Paul Young by his side. Together they faced Gideon, Israel, and possibly Elder Kimball, burdened with Eliza. But their enemies knew Witch’s Warts. Jacob did not.

  He turned to Stephen Paul. “This thing goes all the way to the Ghost Cliffs and is what? Two miles wide?”

  He nodded. “More or less. We always say eighteen square miles. You can get lost inside, that’s for damn sure.”

  Manuel said, “But unless they’re planning to live in here, they’ve got to have an exit.”

  “There’s a ranch road that hits the east side,” Jacob said. He turned toward Stephen Paul for confirmation. “Could be there that they plan to come out. Anywhere else to stash a car?”

  Stephen Paul shook his head. “Not that I can think of. But that road still leaves a good three miles to search. By the time we look up and down every ravine and dry wash where they might have hidden their car we’ll have lost an hour.”

  Eduardo had his cell phone out, trying to get a signal. “Still no service,” he told Manuel.

  “Say we go find a signal,” Jacob asked the agents, “and you call for backup. How long are we talking?”

  Manuel shook his head. “An hour and a half, if we’re lucky. Nearest agents are in Cedar City. But we could probably get the Garfield County Sheriff here in thirty, forty minutes.”

  Jacob stared into the maze of stone and sand, trying to figure how long it would take Gideon and Israel to get through. They’d be burdened with Eliza. Still, to get law enforcement here and seal off the road from both directions would take a minimum of an hour. Maybe longer.

  Manuel seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Too long.” He turned to Eduardo. “And we don’t have time to fool around looking for a signal anyway.”

  Jacob looked to Stephen Paul. “Take your truck. Find others to help, if you can do it quickly.”

  Stephen Paul said, “After what my brother did, I don’t know who to trust.”

  “Members of the Quorum. And women. You’ll have to take your chances. Get as many cars on that ranch road as possible. Block it off. The three of us will go after them on foot.”

  Stephen Paul turned at once and rushed off. The one man among them who knew the area. Jacob eyed the sky and the rapidly dipping sun to the west. Gideon and Israel would be burdened, and trying not to leave tracks. Jacob could waste time looking for those tracks or cut in a straight line toward the ranch road, then look for tracks once he got far enough in. That meant remembering the position of the sun in the sky or he would get lost.

  He turned to the FBI agents. “Ready?”

  #

  Eliza had only one more chance. She had to make it count. A scream, a blow, something at the right moment. In the meanwhile, all she could do was delay.

  She shifted her weight to make herself as heavy to Israel as possible. Her hands, bound behind her back, worked at the green apron at her waist, still left there from the endowment. She untied the knot, but didn’t let the apron fall. Not yet.

  Gideon and Israel stopped where a fissure separated two conjoined sandstone fins. Working together, the two men hauled her up the stone, panting and cursing. As they climbed, they pushed past a juniper tree, which scratched at Eliza’s face. She let go of the apron strings as she passed. The green apron caught on a branch. Neither of the men saw what she had done.

  They reached the sinkhole. The rain had filled it with water. The surface sat smooth and quiet. The stone bowled up around the sinkhole. It was here that they meant to murder her.

  Israel dropped her to the ground. The men gathered loose rocks and broke off flakes of sandstone which they stuffed into her robes and down her dress. Gideon shoved her into a seated position at the base of the sinkhole, with the water to her back. He pulled the gag from her mouth.

  “This is your chance to plead for mercy,” he said.

  “Go to hell.”

  He looked disappointed in her response. “It could have turned out differently, Eliza. I didn’t want to kill you.” He shrugged. “Well, these things happen. It might take a few years to recover from this setback.”

  “There will be no recovering. My brother will kill you.”

  “Why do you always argue with them?” Israel asked Gideon. “Just do it.”

  Gideon’s voice changed. “Eliza Christianson. We now seal thee unto death. May the Lord have mercy upon thy soul.”

  He reached out his hands and Eliza leaned forward as if she would resist. Instead, she prepared to fall back when he pushed. Off balance, he might stumble into the water after her. Maybe she could grab his clothes as the stones pulled her down.

  Suddenly he stopped and looked down with a frown. “Where’s your apron?” He looked behind him, then back at Eliza. “Where the hell i
s her apron?”

  “Did she have it when we left the temple?” Israel asked.

  “Of course she had it. The only thing green on a white dress. Don’t you think I’d have noticed?”

  Eliza smiled. “You’ll never find it. And that’s not the only thing I did,” she lied. “I’ve left other clues along the way. They’ll find you easily.”

  Gideon whirled to face Israel. “Quickly. Go look. But don’t go far. We don’t have time.”

  Israel made his way back down the fissure. Eliza had bought little time. He’d find that apron in about ten seconds.

  Gideon jerked Eliza to her feet. She found it difficult to stand straight with the stones weighing down her clothes. He put his hands around her neck and choked. She gasped, but couldn’t breathe. He released his grip. “Where did you put it?”

  “And if I don’t tell you? What are you going to do? Murder me?”

  “Shame I have to kill you,” Gideon said. “You’d be an interesting challenge.” He started to squeeze again.

  “Got it!” Israel shouted from just beyond view. “She left it on the juniper bush.”

  Gideon released his grip and smiled at Eliza. “There, what did that accomplish?”

  A gunshot. Shouts.

  Gideon turned toward the sound. Almost as quickly, he turned back to Eliza. But she did not waste the moment. He stood too close. She leaned her shoulder around his and jerked backward. She stuck out her knee as he stumbled forward. Gideon flailed for balance. He dropped into the water with a splash.

  Eliza dropped to the ground. She tucked her bound legs under her and got her hands out in front of her. She rose to her knees.

  Gideon splashed in the water. He came up on the near side, but the lip was too high to pull himself out. So he treaded water over to the far side, where the edge was lower. He started to pull himself from the water, sputtering and cursing.

  Still on her knees, Eliza pulled a chunk of stone from the front of her dress. She lifted it over her head, took aim, and hurled it at Gideon’s head. The man was only about five feet below her, and not much further away laterally. Impossible to miss. The stone struck him a glancing blow on the temple. He fell back to the water.

  No chances.

  She found a bigger stone on the ground, a sheared off piece of sandstone so big she lifted it only with difficulty. Gideon bobbed up. She didn’t wait to see if he was unconscious. This rock flew down and struck him full on the forehead.

  Another gunshot sounded over her shoulder. A moment later, Jacob and the two FBI agents scrambled into the bowl.

  “Are you okay?” Jacob asked as he hurried to her side. Eduardo bent to untie her hands while Manuel scanned around the sinkhole for others.

  All eyes looked down at Gideon. He floated face down in the water. Blood spread across the surface. The three men bent over the edge and fished out his body. The second stone had caved in his skull.

  Eliza felt stricken. “I killed him.”

  “Good for you,” Jacob said as he pushed Gideon’s body to one side with a look of disgust. “Israel is dead, too. Elder Kimball?”

  “Not here. We passed him in the temple, but he didn’t come with us.”

  It was then that they saw through the clear water and saw a second body at the bottom of the sinkhole. The men went into the water to retrieve it. Weighted down with stones, it took all three to pull him out.

  It was Elder Griggs. Jacob’s Grandfather.

  Chapter Twenty-Five:

  “Let’s get one thing clear,” Manuel said, his tone firm. “This is a courtesy meeting only. A chance for you to clear your heads and make the wise decision.”

  Eliza sat between her brother and her father, with Brother Joseph to Jacob’s left. The FBI agents were all business now, sitting confidently on the other side of the table, but if they thought that the members of the church would fold before the authority of the badges they had taken pains to show, they would soon learn otherwise.

  Jacob, Eduardo, and Manuel had laid the three bodies together at the sinkhole, then returned to the temple. Brother Joseph’s sons had arrived in the meanwhile, together with more members of the Quorum of the Twelve to take temporary custody of the living conspirators.

  It was here, less than an hour after the deaths of Gideon and Israel, that the situation had begun to break down. Manuel and Eduardo had prepared to call for backup. Brother Joseph and Abraham Christianson had insisted that they would not cooperate if the agents did so. Jacob suggested a meeting in the office of the temple president.

  As the meeting began, Jacob had told the others everything he knew. Eliza reeled when she learned how The Lost Boys had kidnapped infant girls to bring to Zion. And Sophie Marie was one of these children. Even the FBI agents had looked stunned by what Jacob told them.

  “Of course we want to do the right thing,” Abraham Christianson said after the FBI agents delivered their warning. “This has been a terrible business, and the sooner we put it behind us, the better. On that, I’m sure we’re in agreement. But it appears we have different ideas of how to do so.”

  “Our position is non-negotiable,” Manuel said. “You can cooperate or you can face charges for obstruction of justice.” He fixed each man with a stare in turn, then directed his gaze to Eliza. She refused to flinch. “There might even be accessory to murder charges.”

  Eduardo stepped in. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” He spoke in Manuel’s direction, though Eliza knew the words were meant for them. “Everyone in this room understands that we need to take care of the bodies, to look after the wounded, to investigate the crime scene while it’s fresh. Get statements, check for fingerprints, etc.”

  Eliza’s father said, “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m really not. First, you have no idea how grateful I am that you helped save my daughter’s life.” He leaned forward. “But from my point of view it looks like everything is wrapped up.”

  “You know better than that, Mr. Christianson.”

  “Do I? The murderers are dead. The others—accessories, as you might call them—are in custody. But does it matter the words we use to punish them? Couldn’t they be tried for other charges?”

  “And you’re suggesting,” Manuel said, “that we keep all of this quiet from the outside world?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. My son told me you came to investigate fraud and you found it. Isn’t that enough to put away Elder Kimball and his Lost Boys?”

  “You can’t be serious,” Manuel said. His astonishment didn’t seem feigned this time. “We killed two men out there. My partner shot one of them. He took a knife to the shoulder. And there’s the old man from the sinkhole and the man cut open in the temple. That makes four dead bodies, not even counting Eliza’s cousin, murdered by these thugs. And that’s just the start! Jacob says there are murders in New Mexico and California. And kidnapped children, what about that?”

  “They killed my son,” Abraham Christianson said in a tight voice. “You don’t think I want to see justice served?”

  “Fine. You can’t hide this. Why would you want to?”

  Abraham Christianson said, “You know what happens if the outside world hears of this, don’t you? The media will descend like a plague of locusts. We’ve seen it before. They love a juicy polygamist story. They’ll camp in front of every house, school, and church. Not just here but in Alberta and Montana. Every apostate, polygamist crusader, and anti-Mormon will come out of the woodwork. We’re already vulnerable. The extra attention will tear us to pieces.”

  “Not our problem,” Manuel said. “And most certainly not our fault.”

  “I never said it was. But it’s our problem.”

  “And you’re suggesting what as an alternative?” Manuel asked. “A massive cover-up?”

  “The question is not whether or not we are going to cover this up—I prefer to think of it as keeping our own business private—the question is whether you will make this difficult for all parties.”
/>   “You can’t cover this up,” Manuel insisted.

  “You’d be surprised,” Abraham Christianson said. “You can’t even confirm the identities of the dead men without our help. And for all you know, we’ve moved the bodies already. Are you going to throw us all in prison until you get what you want? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a media storm, that you don’t want. Surely you’ve heard of the Short Creek raid.”

  Eliza had grown up hearing stories of the raids on the Short Creek polygamist settlement in the 1950s. The national media had published photos of screaming children pulled from their mothers’ arms. Fifty years later and the authorities were still hesitant to go after polygamist communities.

  The two agents looked furious. Manuel said, “What, are you an independent kingdom, above any laws? You just do whatever you want?”

  “What God wants,” Brother Joseph corrected, speaking for the first time. “And yes, we are a kingdom. The kingdom of God on the earth.”

  The two men looked at each other and Eliza could see the confusion at being thwarted in their legitimate duties. Confusion and anger. And Eliza thought it was a dangerous game her father played. The government could come down on them hard. But something else had occurred to her. Something her father didn’t know about.

  Jacob, who had remained quiet during this exchange, caught Eliza’s eye. He gave a significant glance toward the door. He wanted to talk to her alone. She gave a slight nod in response.

  Jacob rose to his feet. “Father, Brother Joseph. I have to talk to Eliza alone. Will you excuse us please?”

  “Right now, Jacob?” Father asked.

  “Yes, now. Just a minute.”

  Alone, in the hallway, Jacob asked Eliza, “You have something. What is it?”

  She hesitated. It didn’t feel right. Eduardo and Manuel had saved her life.

  “It was Eduardo that night.”

  “What night? When?”

  “When Taylor Junior attacked me and I tried to tell you why I thought God was punishing me. It was Eduardo that I saw. I kissed him. I let him touch me.”