He was prattling to himself, his back to her. She could hardly feel her body as whatever he had given her flowed through her veins.
“Show her. Yes, show her the light.” He stiffened and walked back to where she was. He knelt in front of her and propped up her head. Carrington could sense fear digging into her soul, but she was too numb to react.
“You will be mine,” Isaac said.
“No. I will never be yours.”
Isaac’s jaw clenched and his fist came flying out of nowhere. It connected with the side of her jaw and snapped her neck backward.
“You will believe, but first you must be completely broken.” Another blow came to the same side and she cried out as pain rippled through her teeth and down into the base of her spine. Her body was too drugged to fight back so she just absorbed the pain as another punch landed on her face.
She tasted blood and felt it running down her cheek. Her lip stung as it split open; her right eye, already heavy, was now impossible to open and she let the other one close as well.
He may have struck her again; she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she was surrounded by pain, grasping for relief, and drifting into darkness without being able to control any of it.
Isaac pulled his hand back and saw his fist was bloody. Carrington’s head hung bent to the side and he released his hold on her. Her body slumped backward. Had he known this was going to be so difficult, he wouldn’t have given her such a strong sedative.
It’s all right, he reminded himself. She would rouse soon enough and they could continue their discussion then. He glanced at her broken face, blood streaming from her nose and dripping off her lip. Her right eye had swollen shut; it would be colored for a couple of weeks. He would need to come up with a good excuse for that.
He moved to grab a damp cloth and returned to wipe some of Carrington’s face clean. Her blatant denial of truth sickened him, but she was still his chosen partner, and over the past few weeks he had grown to cherish what they would one day share. Once she saw the truth, their life together would be rich in righteousness.
After cleaning her enough to see her soft skin, he moved to check on the second girl. He felt her throat and sighed. Nothing. He would need to call for assistance with the body. Isaac tidied up the cleansing instruments and walked up the stairs after reaching up to click off the overhead light as he went.
Pushing the bookcase back into place, he moved to his bedroom to change and scrub his hands. Blood swirled around the sink as his hands returned to the color of flesh. A nagging whisper pecked away at his brain and he tried to ignore it.
What if Carrington never sees the truth?
She would, of course; it was only a matter of time. He had been led to her for a purpose.
God wouldn’t give her to him only to make him suffer.
The inner voice of divine reason, his true leader, remained silent.
Would he be able to sacrifice his partner for the greater good? Isaac placed his hands on either side of the sink and shook his head.
Surely God wouldn’t ask him to give up what he had just received?
Could you give her to the seven days of cleansing?
Isaac looked at himself in the mirror and felt rage collide with his own stubbornness. He was about to argue when a knock sounded at his door.
“I’m busy!”
“Authority Rogue and some CityWatch guards are here to see you, sir,” the voice on the other side of the door said.
Duty always called at the most inconvenient times.
Remko stood beside Dodson and watched as Authority Knight strode to the door. He wore a strained smile and the look in his eyes made the hair on Remko’s neck bristle.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Isaac asked thinly.
“Sorry to intrude without calling, but we have brought a team to sweep your home and property for any clues that might lead to the recovery of Miss Hale and my CityWatch guards,” Dodson said.
“Yes, you should have called first,” Isaac said, no longer smiling.
“We need to move as quickly as possible. The longer people are missing, the less likelihood there is of finding them.”
“Yes, of course. Well, then, by all means.” Isaac held open the door and Dodson and Remko stepped across the threshold.
“Remko here will lead the search inside the house while I take men to look around outside. We will be quick and as noninvasive as possible.”
“Please.” Isaac moved into the living room and motioned for a steward to bring him a cup of coffee.
Dodson turned to Remko and spoke in hushed tones. “This guy can be a real piece of work, so stay clear of him and move quickly.”
Remko nodded and motioned for four guards to enter the house. He sectioned off the house into quarters and set each one on his way. Remko would oversee and double-check every move they made. Something about the way Isaac eyed him made him uncomfortable and Remko moved quickly out of his line of sight.
He walked through every room, carefully scanning each area with his eyes, looking for anything that would lead him to Carrington. Over the last twelve hours, finding her had become his sole focus. He knew she was engaged to the man who sat like a statue in the next room, but that didn’t change the way his heart ached when he imagined what she might be going through.
He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. It was his job as a CityWatch guard to ensure the safety of the people, and of all people he wanted to keep safe, Carrington was at the top of his list. He may have obeyed orders by cutting off the growing flame before it landed them both in prison, but not a single night passed that he didn’t struggle to fall asleep because her face was embedded in his memory. Not a day went by that he didn’t recall the way her lips felt against his own.
To think that he might never again get to see the light that danced in her eyes or the way her hair fell in golden strands around her face . . . He couldn’t let that happen. Every instinct he had told him there was something in this house that would lead him to her.
The CityWatch moved quickly and efficiently, sweeping the outside and inside of the stately home, and after what felt like no time at all, each guard was reporting what he had found—nothing. Remko ordered his men to look again and they did, a second and a third time, always coming back with nothing. One man found some strands of hair that may have belonged to Carrington, and another lifted a few matching fingerprints, but that was to be expected since the house belonged to the man she was marrying.
Remko cursed softly and questioned the intuition that was warning him about this place. He knew his men were the best, and after three thorough walk-throughs without viable evidence, he had no choice but to wrap the search. He moved into the living room, where Isaac was reading through a folder and sipping another cup of coffee. The Authority member’s head came up and he gave Remko a contemplative look. “Anything?”
“No, Auth . . . Authority Knight.”
“Ah yes. You are the one with the stutter. Dodson speaks highly of you.”
“Thank y . . . you.”
Remko glanced toward the hallway where his men were gathering the last of their things. His eyes moved up the wall to see a portrait of Isaac’s father hanging above a narrow hallway table, a large marble plaque resting in the center of the polished surface below.
“My father used to say that was the only thing that mattered in life,” Isaac said, pointing to the words engraved there. “‘Follow God and His holy mission, forsaking all others.’ I never understood it until I was much older. Now I know the truth in these words.”
Remko read the statement again but didn’t have time to ponder it long. Dodson stepped inside the house and thanked Isaac for being so gracious, and they left.
“Anything?” Dodson asked when they were outside.
Remko shook his head, and Dodson swore. “We have to find this girl. The city can’t afford to lose another.”
36
Carrington whirled a long
strand of golden grass between her fingers. The wind smelled like fall, crisp and clean, with a nice hint of a chill that made her want to snuggle deeper into the grass.
“He’s going to kill me,” Carrington said.
Aaron was perched on his stump again, his legs crossed underneath him, his eyes following the slowly moving clouds. “His soul is very lost.”
“If I just give him what he wants, I can be saved.”
“That won’t save you; it will only imprison you.”
“So then I just die.”
“Why does it have to be death or imprisonment? Is there not another option?”
“He would never let me go.”
Aaron smiled and shot her a wink. “Ye of little faith.”
“I can’t save my life by simply believing.”
“Carrington, you are missing the whole point. It is only by believing that you can save your life. Only when you believe in your true Father, only when you know who you are and who lives within you, can you truly be saved.”
Carrington rolled over and lay back with her head in the grass. She watched the clouds shift and sway as they inched across the blue sky.
“You would be surprised at the power you hold,” Aaron said.
“And I can access that power by believing?”
“Like a superhero.”
Carrington giggled and Aaron’s warm chuckle bounced across the sky.
Suddenly she felt filled with fear and sorrow. This was all just a dream, and when she woke up she wouldn’t be wrapped in kindness, secure in the grass. She would be chained like an animal in Isaac’s cellar, her face broken, her body bruised. And he would feed her poison and she would die, slowly and painfully.
How could she let herself suffer through such agony? Tears filled her eyes and the wind dried them as they slipped down her cheeks.
Yet hadn’t she already been suffering for the past few months? Wasn’t being owned by Isaac just as painful as swallowing bleach? She longed for freedom as much as she longed for life, but she couldn’t imagine a scenario where she achieved both. She rolled onto her side and pulled her legs up toward her chest. Maybe this was what she deserved. Freedom was an illusion, but death was real. Isaac had chosen her and she couldn’t change that. He possessed her. Wouldn’t it be better to accept the inevitable and save herself all the pain?
“The voices of hate are strong,” Aaron said.
Carrington didn’t move and sniffed as large tears plopped onto the grass. She heard feet shuffle through the dirt toward her, but she felt ashamed of her tears and didn’t want Aaron to see her face.
He sat down in the grass beside her, his presence comforting her wounded soul. “The biggest struggle you will ever face is to ignore the lies that feel so familiar.”
“They feel like truth,” Carrington said.
“The truth is beautiful, like you. The truth is you have been made perfect and are wholly loved. Chosen simply because you breathe, because you exist, because of who created you. I know this world has led you to believe that your worth is measurable. Life has always told that lie—that you have to work for love or change to be accepted. But the truth is different. Truth has existed since before time began, and its message is that because you were born, because you grow, because you take steps, because you laugh, you are loved and worth the greatest sacrifice.”
Carrington sat up and turned so she was sitting side by side with Aaron, the grass dancing around them, the breeze playing through their hair, the sun beaming against their skin.
“I want to believe that truth,” Carrington said.
Aaron took Carrington’s hand and held it softly in his own. “Truth is a journey. A constant cycle of remembering and forgetting. Remember who abides within you.”
“Will I always forget?”
“I don’t know. That is your journey. I can’t predict the future. All I can do is help you remember.”
Suddenly Aaron jumped up and pulled Carrington into a standing position. “We need to practice remembering the truth.” He whirled around in a complete circle, his arms outstretched wide to either side. “I am chosen!”
He stopped and looked at Carrington. “Come on, dance with me.”
Carrington giggled and shook her head. He looked ridiculous—coordination wasn’t his strong suit.
“Join me!”
Hesitantly she opened her arms about halfway and muttered, “I am chosen.”
Aaron shook his head. “You don’t sound like you believe.”
Feeling silly, she spread her arms out and raised her voice. “I am chosen.”
Aaron laughed. “I am loved!”
“I am loved!”
“Dance now; spin with me. Dancing makes every truth seem more real.”
Carrington spun and laughed like a child, her dress swirling out around her legs and moving in the wind.
“I am chosen!” Aaron yelled.
“I am loved!” Carrington yelled.
“I am free!”
“I am free!”
They ran and jumped and danced, screaming truth into the wind, the grass moving with them, the trees all around swaying to their movements until Carrington toppled over in a fit of laughter, her body filled with warmth, tears of joy leaking down her cheeks.
For the first time in her life, she thought she understood what real worth was, and she noticed that the pervasive lie of her worthlessness was gone.
Remko stood over Dodson’s desk. The place was becoming less and less foreign. Even the excessive stench of smoke and ash that hung permanently in the air didn’t bother him like it used to. It was almost comforting.
The search of Isaac’s place felt like a waste. Nothing new had been discovered, and they’d spent valuable time there when they could have been exploring other leads. The problem was now they were out of leads to follow and they were quickly approaching the twenty-four-hour mark since Carrington’s disappearance.
Dodson walked back and forth, his usual cigarette stuck between his lips. Lieutenant Smith stood in the corner, reviewing a file of statements from Isaac’s household employees. Remko was rummaging through the evidence collected on Dodson’s desk. As in any investigation, gathering the pieces was the easy part. It was the way the puzzle was rearranged that made the real clues evident. He had to believe that what they needed to find Carrington was in this pile somewhere.
Smith walked forward and slapped his folder onto the desk. “It’s all the same each time I read it. There is nothing here.”
“I think we need to call it a night, get a couple hours of sleep, and come at it with fresh eyes early tomorrow,” Dodson said.
“It’s here—I’ll fi . . . fi . . . find it,” Remko said.
Smith rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed.
“Wishing evidence was there won’t make it suddenly appear,” Dodson said.
Remko continued to dig through the information and ignored his captain.
“Go home, Smith. See you first thing,” Dodson said.
Smith nodded and threw Remko a pitying look, then left.
Dodson snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray near Remko’s hand, a puff of smoke rising into Remko’s face. “We have been over this stuff a hundred times. What are you hoping will change?”
Remko rolled out a set of blueprints labeled Knight Estate and compared it to the detailed reports he had of each room. He tried to imagine Carrington moving through the house, the way she walked, the places she would be most likely to visit. “I’m waiting for per . . . perspective.”
One by one he reviewed the outlines of the rooms on the map in front of him and used the reports to visualize each space.
“You’re doing what I taught you, which I appreciate, but without rest your mind will grow dull. We need to sleep on this, Remko.”
He flipped to the next report, which described the basement. He searched the blueprint for the diagrammed area and found nothing. “There’s n . . . no ba . . . ba . . . basement here
.”
“What?”
Remko flipped the blueprints to face Dodson and pointed to the basement report. “The ba . . . ba . . . basement isn’t in the o . . . original plans.”
“Yeah, Isaac had a basement added after his father passed.”
“Why?”
Dodson shrugged. “Does it matter? We surveyed the space and found nothing.”
Remko studied the plans and felt a tingling suspicion prick across his skin. “The dimensions are wr . . . wrong.”
“What are you getting at?”
“He on . . . only dug out half the ba . . . ba . . .”
“Stop stuttering.” Dodson yanked the reports toward him. “So he didn’t add the basement to the entirety of the house. So what?” Dodson questioned, looking up at Remko. “We surveyed the portion that was added and found zip.”
“Look here.” Remko passed another report to Dodson. This one described a small ventilation shaft spotted at the base of an outer wall on the east side of Isaac’s house. A similar shaft was reported on the west side, but neither the blueprints nor the written reports showed a basement beneath that half of the house. The nagging feeling that this was more than what it appeared was too strong for Remko to ignore.
“This means nothing, Remko. It’s probably a mistake.”
“Sir, I th . . . think . . .”
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Isaac Knight is a fundamental part of this city’s leadership. That look behind your eyes is dangerous.”
“There is some . . . something here.”
“All you have is a man who added half a basement to his house—a man, mind you, who could easily have you thrown in prison and will in a heartbeat if you wrongly accuse him.” Dodson grabbed the blueprints and rolled them up. “We are through with this for now. Lack of sleep is sucking the oxygen from your brain.”
“Sir—”
“Drop it, Remko! I mean it. Now get out.”
Remko pushed away from the desk and headed for the door.
“Remko,” Dodson said, his voice low and worried.
Remko turned his head, his hand still resting on the doorknob.
The Choosing Page 27
