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

by Donna White Glaser

“We really don’t know what happened to Priella,” I said. “She’s just disappeared.”

  “Maybe she ran away too.”

  “I don’t know.” I took a deep breath, trying to quiet my racing thoughts. “But they’re definitely lying about her going out on mission work. And the really scary thing is they aren’t even trying to make their BS sound plausible anymore. It’s ridiculous. Rachel was right. Priella was being shunned, for crying out loud. They aren’t going to have her spread the word for the church. That’s what I mean by unraveling. It’s little things too. Like I don’t think I was supposed to room with her. That had to be a mistake, and it means they were screwing up before we got here. Or at least before I did.” I glared at Beth, trying to remind her who’s fault this all was.

  She ignored me. “That might be another reason why you’re being put in isolation so soon. Maybe Father’s trying to keep you away from everybody. Especially if he knows you’re chumming up to Rachel. I don’t know, Letty. I’m getting a really bad feeling about this.”

  I didn’t tell her about Moses’s whip or Cozbi’s insinuation, if you could even call it that, or that he was looking to set up a sister-wives arrangement. I shuddered.

  Moving to the other bed, I picked up the travel file. After a few minutes I had the flight receipts spread out on the bedspread. Four of the tickets originated out of the Twin Cities and were on Spirit Airline. Father may have been in a hurry to track his errant second-in-command, but the troops were going economy all the way. A lone receipt from Delta for two days later sat among them like cat poop on a pillow—an event I had actually experienced and would have preferred to have forgotten. Despite that, a wave of loneliness for Siggy, poop and all, swept over me.

  Beth picked up the Delta ticket. “So everybody takes off on the same day from the Cities except this guy. He went two days later.”

  “Or she,” I said. I reached for the ticket. “Check the name.”

  Beth snatched it away. “Dallas Sims. Never heard of him. Have you?”

  “How could we? Father’s given everybody different names. Isn’t that handy for him?”

  “Yup. But they’d have to use their real ones to get past Homeland Security. But listen, why would they send two people to Las Vegas? And why are there only four of the Spirit tickets?”

  “When we were talking in the dining hall the other day, Rachel said Casper didn’t go, so we can’t count. Without Enoch, that would leave five searchers.”

  “Okay, so where’s the fifth, then?”

  “I think that’s Adlai,” I said. “I bet that’s what the other note is saying. Maybe he had to go to the hospital or something. Rachel would have known that.”

  “Makes sense,” she said. “That means we might be able to match their real names to the four who went.”

  “As to why they sent two people out to Vegas, I don’t know for sure, but Cozbi told me Father reported Enoch missing there.”

  “Then what the hell is his hand doing here?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s work with what we have for now.”

  We leaned over the tickets. “We know from Cozbi that Moses went to Las Vegas. If Gabriel went to Houston,” I said, tapping the Houston stub, “that means he’s Steven Branson.”

  The Vegas ticket made Beth snort. “You are not going to believe this.” Her green eyes sparkled with laughter.

  “Well?”

  “Moses…” She drew it out. “Is Lyle Dicks.”

  Our eyes met.

  “How many—”

  “Don’t say it,” I begged.

  “—times do you think he’s been called Limp Dick?”

  I hung my head and sighed.

  “You gotta admit, it explains a lot,” Beth said.

  Best to ignore her. “So, that means that Dathan and Mark are Daniel Walters and Darryl Larson. One or the other of them went to Chicago, the other to Philadelphia. Unfortunately, that doesn’t tell us which man is which.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Beth said, leaning back on her arms. “The real problem is if we’ve confirmed the whereabouts of those six, it means the Delta flight person could be anyone. Casper could even have taken a later flight. That would make him Dallas Sims.”

  She heaved a sigh and continued, “Unfortunately, that’s one of those could-be-a-boy, could-be-a-girl names.”

  “Unisex,” I said.

  “I just can’t picture Casper with a name like that. If he had a boy-girl name, it would be something like, I don’t know, Beverly, maybe. Or Leslie.”

  Picking up the Delta stub, I sighed. “But maybe that’s what the police wanted to talk to him about.” I examined the ticket more closely. “Hey, Beth. This one used a different credit card from the others. I’m assuming the Spirit tickets were purchased with the church credit card. But this one’s different. At least, the last four numbers are—that’s all they show.”

  “I bet they didn’t want it popping up under the church’s account.” She sat up, pulled the deeds file onto her lap, and began paging through its contents. “The church owns an awful lot of property. I figured it would, since Father’s always on me about divesting myself of the ties that bind me to a sinful world. He actually expects me to turn my baby over to him. Can you believe that turd?”

  “Baby” to Beth, referred to her beloved “Gotta Have It Green” Mustang. Father would roast in hell before she would ever give her baby up.

  “And check this out,” Beth continued. “Some of these are registered in other names. Besides the church, our friend Mr. Limp Dick is listed on two of them. Abraham Reynolds is on at least a dozen, which makes sense, since obviously Reynolds is dear Father Abraham. But look, there are more than five under the name Edward Nichols.”

  I took the deeds she indicated. “Why would some of the properties be listed under individuals’ names?”

  “Maybe something to do with taxes again. Or capitol gains. What it does tell us is that Father has to be pretty certain he has these guys under his control.”

  I heard her, but I was focused on something else. “The cops called Maliah ‘Mrs. Nichols.’ So, Enoch is Edward. Father must have placed an awful lot of trust in Enoch if he has him listed under all this property.”

  “It also explains why Father is kissing Maliah’s butt,” Beth said.

  “She inherits.”

  “Yup.”

  “But they can’t prove Enoch is dead without a corpse, can they?”

  “I don’t think so. Eventually they’ll need to figure something out. Maybe they’ll have Maliah divorce him in absentia or something. It’s not something they need to worry about right now, anyway. Enoch isn’t going to divest himself of his properties. For now, they’re still in Father’s control.”

  “For now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Before the sun even rose, Cozbi was tapping at my door. I had only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, so the vision that materialized when I opened it made me jump. She looked like a ghost in a long, flowing white robe and leather sandals. On second thought, maybe it was Jesus. Neither of whom I was ready to meet before my first cup of coffee.

  Or in this case, weak herbal tea, which I wasn’t getting, anyway. Refusing to detour to the kitchen, Cozbi led me to Maliah’s cabin. She stood inside, wearing a matching robe and her usual frown.

  Unlike Moses and Cozbi, Maliah was not into austere. Although she hadn’t gone too flashy, she had decorated her space with items of obvious good quality and designed for comfort. Though the colors were drab browns and tans, the blankets were thick and looked as soft as pussy willow buds. A half dozen pillows that looked like plump white marshmallows were piled up by the headboard, making the bed look like a great big s’more. My stomach rumbled. Before I turned away, I spied the corner of a hot pink book cover peeking out from underneath one of the marshmallow pillows. Chick lit? Or maybe romance? Whatever the genre, I didn’t think it would be on Father’s approved-for-fanatic-cult-members media list. Maliah caught my gaze—or maybe my smir
k—and slid the book deeper under the pillow.

  Baara was already there too. She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing and exclaiming over the cushy mattress. Maliah’s painted hussy lips thinned in irritation.

  “Baara, here’s a seat for you.” Maliah pointed to one of the wooden ladder-back chairs she had placed around the room’s perimeter.

  “That’s okay,” Baara said. She grabbed one of the pillows and snuggled it to her chest. “Your cabin is awesome, Maliah. I didn’t know we could get our own stuff. I’m going to tell Casper to buy me some nice pillows like these. He’s in charge of the money, so he can do that.”

  Maliah and Cozbi’s eyes met over the top of Baara’s head. I wondered if they had news about Casper’s interrogation.

  Maliah, still frustrated, said, “All right. Fine, but stop bouncing. This isn’t a jungle gym. And you…” She turned to me. “Let’s get going. You need to be in isolation before sunrise.”

  Cozbi’s turn to frown. “Maliah, please remember you are merely standing in for Rachel. Father appointed me as Letty’s mentor. Not you.”

  Baara stopped pouting and gave a sly smile, but Maliah was not deterred.

  “Well, let me remind you that this is my cabin.”

  “For now,” Cozbi replied. Baara’s grin widened. “But again, Father assigned me. Besides, my cabin is only fifty feet away. We can certainly go there if we need to. Of course, you’ll have to explain to Father just why you thought it was necessary to ignore his—”

  “All right, all right.” Maliah flipped a “whatever” wave of her hand. “All I’m saying is let’s get going. You may not have better things to do, but I do.”

  “It’s an honor to prepare a sister for The Vow.” Though apparently emboldened by Cozbi’s reprimands, Baara kept her comment to a near whisper. Her gaze skipped away when Maliah’s eyes slitted at her.

  Having made her point, Cozbi ignored them both and began instructing me in the proper responses to Father during the Naming Ceremony.

  “You’ll do just fine,” she said as she handed me a dog-eared index card. On it were three bullet-pointed sentences: I lay my Self before thee. I commend my Spirit to thee. I sacrifice my Self to thee. “You only have to remember those three lines. You’ll know which one to use by how Father asks the question. There’s only three. Just keep looking at the floor.”

  “Your eyes should be downcast,” Baara said. “That’s why the floor. You look down at it.”

  I nodded my thanks for her explanation, and she smiled warmly. Maliah rolled her eyes.

  “I’m not really supposed to lay myself in front of him, am I?” I asked.

  Cozbi grinned. “No, you’re laying your Self before him. Capitol ‘S.’ You’re saying you’re ready to reject your own comforts and ties to this world to join with the Elect in preparing for the coming new world.”

  “Gotcha,” I said.

  “And then when you’re all done,” Baara said, “you’re gonna get a new name. Mine means ‘Flame of God.’ Isn’t that cool?”

  Maliah snorted.

  “Okay then, let’s get your clothes off,” Cozbi said.

  Whoa. “What?”

  Maliah snickered.

  Cozbi shot her a repressive look and said, “Genesis 2:25. ‘And they were naked and were not ashamed.’ It’s just part of the purification.”

  Baara crossed behind us and went into the bathroom. The sound of the shower turned on raised my anxiety.

  Cozbi sighed and muttered, “It should be a bath.”

  “I hate baths,” Maliah said. “You’re just sitting there in all your filth. It’s disgusting.”

  Walking over to the dresser, Cozbi lifted a lumpy gray bar of homemade soap and a clean white towel. She handed them to me. The towel felt coarser than usual, and I realized it had been dried outside. Maliah held another white robe, folded. A short length of rope coiled on top like a snake.

  I moved to the bathroom, but stopped when I realized Maliah and Cozbi were following me.

  Baara poked her head out from the steaming bathroom. “You coming?” she asked.

  I glared at the others. “I don’t need company.”

  By now, Maliah was in a thoroughly good mood. “Sorry, dear, but we need to pray over you. It’s not just earthly dirt you need to be cleansed of.” She practically sang the last few words.

  I clutched the towel to my chest. What choice did I have?

  Getting all four of us in the tiny bathroom took some doing, but we finally packed everyone into it. The space was utilitarian, holding only a toilet, a pedestal sink, and a shower stall the size of a coffin. Baara ended up practically straddling the toilet, while Maliah and Cozbi jockeyed for position in the few feet available in front of the shower. I ended up undressing in the stall, trying not to bang my elbows or rap my knuckles on the fixtures as I did so. My socks got wet, and were the first to go. I had been in plenty of locker rooms and would never have thought twice about disrobing, but I had never been the sole focal point in a locker room. That made all the difference in the world. Cozbi averted her eyes, but both Maliah and Baara stared unblinkingly. Baara’s was the gaze of a child—all happy, she’s-gonna-be-naked curiosity. Maliah was just nosy and hoping to be able to gloat.

  I noted, with no small amount of pride, that she could not.

  I wasn’t allowed to close the curtain, either, so I took secret pleasure in slopping as much water as possible over the watching women and the surrounding tiles. Each woman took turns praying out loud as I splashed, lathered, and rinsed.

  Cozbi’s prayer focused on perseverance, a trait I believed she must practice every day of her marriage to Moses. She spoke about setting aside the self. Capitol ‘S,’ I assumed. And she spoke about the rewards in heaven for those who remained true to their Vow.

  Baara started to go after Cozbi, but Maliah’s voice cut over hers. Maliah’s prayer was a reminder that I must be obedient and submissive to authority. That I should not question those above me. And most importantly, that I should refrain from vanity and the sin of becoming an object of temptation. I pretended I had soap in my eyes to cover my snort.

  My shower was finished by the time Maliah wrapped up her harangue, so Baara kept hers short and simple. She said, “Father, make this woman clean of her sins so that she can be acceptable. Let her sacrifice be worthy and free of evil sin.” She took a deep breath after her little speech and looked at Cozbi for reassurance. Cozbi smiled and nodded, and I realized then that Baara had practiced her prayer. She probably wanted to make sure Maliah couldn’t make fun of her.

  They let me comb out my hair and rub it nearly dry with the towel, although Maliah and Baara both seemed irritated with the delay. Cozbi ignored them, and I was glad I had taken the time when I realized I would have to cross the driveway wearing just the white robe and a pair of open-toed leather sandals. We were all shuddering from the cold by the time we stood in the small entryway of Philadelphia House. It wasn’t much warmer, but at least the breeze wasn’t billowing up my robe creating visions of frostbite in areas of my body that I would rather not be frosty… or bitten. Baara pointed at my feet, and I slipped out of the sandals. The bare flooring made my toes curl.

  In contrast, the rising sun touched the eastern windows, creating a rosy glow and a false impression of warmth. Candles had been lit too, but the romance ended there. The Seven stood in a semicircle around Father—all eyes trained on me. I noted Casper had returned.

  My three escorts hung back. It took a push from Maliah for me to realize I was expected to go on alone. Taking a deep breath, I started walking to the group. My bare feet squeaked as I slowly padded up the aisle.

  Moses’s arctic eyes glittered brighter and brighter as I neared; he started breathing faster, too. Each step closer to the group of men heightened my awareness—and apparently Moses’s—of my nakedness beneath the thin robe. Eli’s face was inscrutable. I scanned the others. Most had cast their expressions into righteous severity. Casper, however, looked distract
ed. His skin had an unhealthy, pasty hue; he looked nauseous.

  Father didn’t speak right away. Instead, he drew out the silence, letting the tension rise. In the quiet, Moses’s raspy breathing sounded like the nasty side of a dirty phone call. If Father expected the extended silence to further unsettle me, he would be disappointed. I used the moments to take a deep, centered breath and tried to relax my quivering muscles. Ignoring Cozbi and Baara’s admonition to keep my gaze downcast, I smiled into Father’s eyes.

  His eyes narrowed and an unidentifiable emotion flashed through them. His turn for a deep breath. “Do you commit your life to the One True Way?” His voice boomed through the nearly empty temple, ricocheting off the walls and ceiling. Casper jumped and dropped his staff with a clatter.

  Father’s face stiffened in annoyance; his lips disappeared into a slashed line. He stood at rigid attention while we waited for Casper to pick up his staff.

  “Sorry, Father Abraham,” Casper whispered.

  Not deigning to respond, Father kept his attention fixed on me.

  I cleared my throat. “I, um, lay myself before thee.”

  Moses closed his eyes, making me grit my teeth at the thought of what fantasies he might be weaving. Before I could kick him in the nuts, the Seven intoned, “Let it be so.” Cozbi hadn’t mentioned they would be joining the party and they’re chorus startled me.

  “Do you commend your spirit to the One True Spirit?” Father continued.

  “I commend myself to thee.” Yeah, right.

  “Let it be so,” said the Seven.

  “Will you sacrifice yourself to the One True King?”

  “I sacrifice myself to thee.”

  “Let it be so,” chanted Father’s boy band.

  Having answered the three questions, I waited for Father to announce the start of my isolation period. But again, Father paused, staring speculatively down on me. The silence dragged on for so long, I sensed restlessness in the men at Father’s side, but I didn’t pull my eyes away from Father to check.

  Several minutes passed before Gabriel coughed the fakest cough ever coughed. Father slid a glance sideways, quelling his soldiers, then seemed to come to a decision.