The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (A Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mystery Book 4)

by Donna White Glaser

  Ah. Like dead hands.

  “I see great things ahead for you, my child.”

  “Like what, Father?”

  He smiled benevolently.

  “Time will tell. But content yourself with knowing that I foresee you holding a standing of very high rank. Very high.” He chuckled.

  I didn’t. For some reason, his amusement made my skin prickle.

  “Of course, you will need guidance during this process, so I’m assigning a mentor to you. She will instruct you in the ways of The Vow and prepare you for the period of seclusion where you will be purified and stripped of all worldly ties.”

  Against my will, my eyes fluttered shut. Please, not Maliah.

  “Priella?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” Father snapped. “Why? What has she said?”

  More creepy-crawly skin action. “Nothing. We’re roommates, that’s all. She’s nice and she’s been helpful.”

  His eyes narrowed and he studied me closely.

  “So, um, you were going to assign my mentor?”

  After a long stretch of brooding silence, during which I was sure he would hear my heart thudding against my ribs, he finally answered.

  “Cozbi.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Father had given me till Sunday to think about it. No question, really, but I was nearly desperate to have some time alone, so I headed back to my room to “contemplate.” If Priella was there, I would find another quiet place. The temple, maybe.

  My momentary pleasure in discovering an empty room sputtered out when I realized the bedroom was too empty. All Priella’s belongings, meager though they were, were missing right down to the linens on the bed.

  This was the Bible and Tylenol incident on a whole other level. I poked around and pulled open a few of her dresser drawers. The wood made squeaky sounds in protest. Standing in front of the closet, staring at the empty space where her dresses had hung, was unnerving. A metal hanger swayed slightly as if still set in motion from a hand that yanked clothing off it just moments ago.

  My first thought was that she had gotten fed up and taken off, but then I thought about her gentle teasing in the kitchen less than three hours ago. She was a private person, and we were just getting to know each other, but she couldn’t have been hiding a decision of this magnitude behind that soft playfulness. She had been disturbed by the rumors about her and Enoch and shocked by his death, but her commitment to the Elect seemed solid.

  With a start, I remembered Maliah’s earlier comments about sluts and purging evil. She hated Priella, and she had known something that she hadn’t wanted to share.

  I slammed out of the room, pounding down the stairs to the office on the main floor. Abigail and Rachel both jumped in surprise at my entrance, Abigail squeaking like a mouse. Maliah, still seated at Rachel’s desk, gave a slight start, but recovered almost immediately. I leaned on the desk, crowding her back.

  “Where is she?” My voice gritted past my teeth.

  Her eyes slitted, but before she could respond, Rachel broke in.

  “Who? Letty, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  “Ask Maliah. Ask her what they did with Priella.”

  “Priella?” Rachel’s voice rose. Behind her, Abigail gasped, her hand over her mouth.

  I kept my eyes locked on Maliah’s. Her face, angled so that only I could see, allowed a faint, secret smile to dance across it.

  “That’s what you meant this morning, wasn’t it?” I pitched my voice low, private. “‘Purging the evil.’ You got rid of her, didn’t you?”

  “I got rid of her? Father makes those decisions, not me.” Again, the smile. Flaunting her power, even as she denied it. “But I can’t say I disagree with it, as you so obviously do. This community’s first duty is to purify ourselves for the King’s return. We are not to associate with sexually immoral people. Read First Corinthians, if you don’t believe me. In fact, I suggest you reflect very carefully on this incident. Priella isn’t the only female that bears watching.”

  “Maliah.” Rachel’s voice cut across our battle lines. She came to stand next to me. “You are wrong. Letty has done nothing wrong; she’s just getting used to our ways. And Priella wasn’t…” Her voice quavered. “I know she wasn’t sexually immoral.”

  “Sweet Rachel,” Maliah sneered. “You can’t judge everyone by yourself. Not everyone has as much control as you. Or maybe my husband just didn’t want you enough. After all, Enoch sought me out, didn’t he?”

  Rachel’s face went ashen.

  “You should have trusted him more,” Rachel whispered.

  Rage flooded Maliah’s face, darkening and tightening her features. “How could I? There was always some fragile, little maiden trying to rescue him from his evil wife.” Not waiting for a response, she swept from the office.

  “I never understood why Enoch sought her out,” Abigail said.

  “Because he was obedient.” Rachel’s voice sounded as if coming from a distance. Her eyes, frosted like a winter sky, canted right, remembering.

  “So, it’s true about Maliah’s money?”

  “Maliah has no money. Not now, anyway. She turned it over to Father before her marriage.”

  “You mean, to the Elect.”

  Rachel turned her hard eyes to Abigail. “If you say so.” She left just as abruptly, cutting off Abigail’s response.

  “I’d better go talk to her,” Abigail said, hurrying after the other woman.

  Stripped of emotion, the room felt hollow. Belatedly, my heart kicked in, pounding against my ribs. I slumped into the office chair, trying to hang on as the wave swept through my body, slicking my skin with sweat. Damn it. I hated weakness. I was too busy for this crap. As usual, the more I fought it, the worse it got. I finally gave in, sitting there panting and sweating like a nervous racehorse. Eventually, it finally passed.

  By the time I regained control of my own body, it was time to don my waitress uniform and head for the bus.

  It was a crazy night at the restaurant. Apparently, the local casino was holding a costume contest, and our restaurant caught the overflow of clowns, sexy nurses, and the undead. Halloween and the usual crowd for Friday fish fry combined to create a surreal mix of devilry and down-home comfort. Thankfully, we weren’t required to dress more creatively than our porno Smurf suits.

  Martha ended up covering Priella’s section, calling Rachel in to hostess and help tend bar. Neither were thrilled with the arrangement, but Rachel seemed to loosen up as the evening wore on.

  Strangely enough, Justus’s attitude worsened. Instead of his usual flirty charm, he seemed jittery and distracted. After he screwed up a drink order for the second time and snapped at me for it, I finally snapped back.

  “Listen, sunshine. I’ve got two vampires at table four waiting for their Bloody Marys and a pirate who keeps sticking his hook up my skirt. Quit giving me crap over your own mistakes.”

  Stunned, he stopped in his tracks. Then a smile broke through, and he looked as if he were seeing me for the first time that night.

  Rachel buzzed past, a tray held aloft. She delivered drinks to a couple at the end of the bar. The liquid sloshed over the edges as she set the glasses down with a plunk.

  “Whoopsie,” she trilled. Stunned, I watched her lick her fingers. And her forearm. Giggling.

  Eyebrows furrowed, I turned to Justus. His expression soured again.

  “Is she…?”

  “Drunk off her butt,” he answered. “I have no idea what to do. If Father finds out…” He trailed off, and I didn’t pursue it.

  “Wait here,” I said, which was stupid, because where was he going to go?

  I delivered the drinks and corralled Beth and Martha by the salad cooler. Martha listened briefly, then shot out of the kitchen for the bar. Beth and I shrugged at each other and I went to pick up an order of fish.

  Five minutes later, Martha was back at my side.

  “Oh, goodness. This is awful. If people see us imbibin
g alcohol, we’ll send the wrong message altogether. We have to get her out of here.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Justus can drive, if you think you can manage her. She seems to get along with you. Then Justus can come back for us and help close up. Beth and Jazzy will cover the few tables left, and I can manage the bar.

  “Goodness,” she repeated. “I’d never have expected this of her. She’s normally so devout.”

  “Well, there’s a lot going on these days.”

  “You can say that again. And here you’re trying to make the decision to commit. I hope this doesn’t change your mind. Are you okay with this?” Martha suddenly looked as if she were having second thoughts.

  “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Rachel’s my friend, and I don’t think any less of her, or of the Elect, for that matter. I’d better get going before things get out of hand.”

  I handed Martha my order slips and filled her in on the two tables I had left.

  By the time I got back to the bar, Justus was looking positively frazzled. Rachel sat cross-legged atop the ice cooler, skirt tented between her knees, offering a fine view of pristine white cotton panties to the locals sitting across from her. Luckily, it was a couple of guys, and they didn’t seem at all offended at the free show.

  Rachel clutched a bottle of peppermint schnapps in one hand and a shot glass in the other. The glass was apparently for appearances only, since she was busy sucking straight from the bottle.

  “Why don’t you swing around and get the van,” I suggested to Justus. His snort of acquiescence expressed disgust mingled with pent-up frustration and relief at turning her over to me. “Better grab a bucket,” I added as he headed for the door.

  I crossed over to my drunken charge. “Hi, honey.”

  Rachel’s hair had fallen out of its bun, hanging down her back in dark waves. I kept a friendly smile in place. Having passed through the giggling stage, she looked particularly somber as she gazed down at me. The initial relief of the booze had passed; it was betraying her now, intensifying her sadness and confusion.

  “I’m drunk,” she informed me.

  No kidding.

  “I see that,” I said. “How about we get you down from there? I don’t want you to fall.”

  She looked away, staring into a distance only she could see, making no move to get down. I waited. Outside, I heard the van pull up. Martha stirred in the background, and I hoped she wouldn’t chime in. I didn’t want Rachel to shift into belligerent mode.

  Just as I was going to have to speak up, she turned back. Leaning into me, she whispered, “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Can’t get down.”

  “Why not?” I whispered. Now she had me doing it.

  Looking grave, as if imparting a message of dire import, she confided, “I’m stuck.”

  We stared deep into each other’s eyes, pondering her predicament. Thankfully, she burst out laughing at the same time I did and promptly fell off the cooler, which solved that particular problem.

  After that, Rachel came willingly enough. I steered her outside and, aside from letting loose a string of exuberant whoops when we hit the crisp air, she behaved herself.

  I got her situated in the back and snapped her seat belt around her. She held a bucket in her lap and leaned her face against the cool glass of the window. I sat sideways in the front passenger seat, ready to help, but hopefully out of barf range if she ignored the bucket. Justus was still in a mood.

  Oblivious to his ire, Rachel spent the twenty-minute drive punctuating the dark night with drunk sounds. Deep, sucking breaths and isolated little hoots sounded behind us as Rachel grappled with her whirling world. When we were treated to a burring chorus of “race-car lips” at the tail end of a jaw-breaking yawn, I burst out laughing. Justus finally joined in, shaking his head and wiping a hand across his face.

  “Are you done being cranky?” I asked.

  Justus tossed me that distinctly male, “I don’t get cranky,” look that cranky guys always resort to.

  “I’m pissed,” he said.

  “Can Elect members say ‘pissed?’”

  Another disgusted look. “Who do you think is gonna catch hell for this?” he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at Rachel.

  “I would assume she will.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not the only one. They’re going to come down on me like a ton of bricks.”

  “Why you? What have you got to do with Rachel?”

  “Am I not my sister’s keeper?” He finally cracked a smile, a dimple flashing on his cheek, before continuing. “You know about the ranking system. Basically, it’s just another version of a male pissing match.” He shot a sideways glance, daring me to make another comment. “Since I’m the only Elect male at the restaurant, I’m supposed to keep you all in line. And if something goes wrong, it’ll screw things up for me big time.”

  My lip curled. “That’s ridiculous. And besides, Martha does all the…” Too late, I stuttered to a stop.

  He even had a cute scowl.

  “I guess I thought you were just another pretty face,” I said, startling a laugh out of him. “Maybe there’s some way of keeping this quiet?”

  “Once we turn her over to Dathan, all bets are off. He’s so devout he makes Jesus look wishy-washy.”

  “Do we have to turn her over to him?”

  Muttering rose from the back seat. If I didn’t know better, I’d have suspected I heard the F word and something about Nazis.

  “Well, he is her husband,” Justus said. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Once, when she had the flu, she stayed with Cozbi. Dathan can’t stand the smell of puke, and they live in one of the cabins. You get privacy from the rest of the community, but they’re basically one room, if you don’t count the bathroom. But anyway, it won’t work because, even if Cozbi would go along with it, Moses would blab.”

  “She can stay with me. Priella left, so I have the room to myself.”

  This time, the look he slid over me was laced with speculation that had little to do with Rachel’s situation. Against my will, I shivered. Then I reminded myself of a particularly sexy, amber-eyed individual.

  The moment was interrupted by the sound of Rachel retching into the bucket. We spent the rest of the drive with the window down and my face freezing in the jet stream.

  I had forgotten how much fun it was trying to rescue a drunk against her will. Rachel was in the mood to repent and apparently felt that she needed to be naked to do so. After rolling her out of the van, Justus took one look at her struggling to unknot the tie of her Smurf skirt and took off so fast the van pelted us with gravel. By the time I steered her up the sidewalk, she’d begun a stumbling striptease; her remaining bra, panties, and tennis shoes glowed eerily white in the dark. She lurched to a stop in front of Father’s statue, staring at it through lowered brows, trying to regulate her dizziness by breathing heavily.

  Oh, boy.

  “Rachel?”

  Ignoring me, she reached up, throwing her turquoise shirt over the statue’s head, fastening it bonnet-like by tying the sleeves under its chin.

  “Rachel. What are you doing?” I was reduced to hissing, the whisperer’s version of yelling.

  She looked at me blankly. “Who are you talking to?” she whispered back.

  “I’m talking to you. Come inside before we wake the whole church.”

  “No.” She didn’t bother whispering this time. Turning back to the parking lot, she walked a few steps away, scanning the empty lot. “Where’d the van go?”

  “Justus drove it back to the restaurant. I think your stripping scared him.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Yeah, well, they don’t make guys like they used to. Now come on, Rachel. Let’s go up to my room. We can have a nice talk.”

  “It’s not your room” Rachel said, flopping down on the grass. “It’s Pr’ella’s. You weren’t even s’posed to be
there. Just another mistake by ol’ Rachel.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me down next to her so she could stare into my eyes. “Poor Pr’ella. They made her go away. Bet they think Enoch told her. But he wouldn’t. He was a man of honor. Better man than they deserved. ‘specially Maliah. Stupid cow did not deserve that man.”

  “Rachel, where did they send Priella? And what do they think Enoch told her?”

  Drunks sure do love to talk. We were making progress.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Okay, maybe not.

  “You.”

  “Then, why do you keep calling me Rachel?”

  “That’s your name.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.

  “No. It’s not.”

  I put my hands over my face to keep from screaming. A chilly hand touched my shoulder. I looked up.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Rachel’s eyes, wide with concern, ranged over my face.

  I started giggling and soon we were both laughing. Suddenly, I understood what she was trying to tell me.

  “Rachel?”

  “Huh?” Perversely, she answered this time.

  “What’s your real name?”

  “Stacy,” she said with a big smile. “My name is Stacy.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Aside from one brief scuffle over Rachel’s sudden decision to nap on the stairs, we made it to my room without further mishap. Hard to believe we didn’t wake anyone. She settled on Priella’s bed and commenced moaning. I watched her for a full five minutes to make sure she wasn’t going to roam, then went on another bucket hunt. I finally grabbed a waste basket from the den and stuck it on the floor under her dangling head.

  Someone tapped softly at my door and my heart kicked over again into panic mode. While I was frantically debating the feasibility of stuffing Rachel’s inert body into the closet, the door opened and Beth tiptoed in. My breath let out with a whoosh and I flung myself backward on my bed.