The Switch

by Sandra Brown

  Brother Gabriel looked back at her as though to say, Anything else? "By the way, I've been remiss. I haven't thanked you for having Gillian's body cremated, thus eliminating DNA testing on intrauterine tissue. It wouldn't have proved that I knew anything about Gordon inseminating her with my sperm, but it could possibly have lengthened the investigation, and my schedule is already so demanding as it is. I really didn't have time for any of this. I'm relieved it's almost over and I can get on with my work."

  "Don't pat yourself on the back yet. The other woman you had killed days after she conceived? Tobias is having her remains exhumed. They'll test the fetus."

  "And it will match my DNA. Fortunately, I donated sperm to the sperm bank that supplies the clinic where she was a patient. There would be a logical explanation for any mixup."

  She held his gaze for several moments, knowing with certainty that he was in the grip of unmitigated insanity. "You seem to have everything covered."

  "We strive to be thorough. We couldn't be successful if we weren't. Years of..." To his utter astonishment, she started laughing. "Melina?"

  "I hate to dash your record of successes, but you have missed something, preacher"

  He liked neither her terminology nor her disparaging tone.

  Brusquely, he motioned toward her. "Mr. Hancock. I see no benefit in further delay."

  Hancock grabbed her arms from behind. She submitted without a struggle, which came as another surprise to Brother Gabriel. Even when Hancock pushed the barrel of Longtree's pistol against her temple, she didn't flinch.

  "So now I commit suicide, is that the plan?"

  "That's the plan." Brother Gabriel came to stand within inches of her. "I'm terribly sorry it had to end like this, Melina." His fingers trailed over her cheek, her neck, her breast. "Truly I am."

  . His touch revolted her, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of cringing. "You don't know how sorry you're going to be if you order him to pull the trigger."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because it's easy to issue an order and have someone else kill for you. It's quite another to look a woman in the eye and kill her yourself."

  "You'll have to do better than that."

  "All right. If you kill me, you'll destroy yourself."

  He smiled. "Riddles, Melina?"

  She would never know which puzzled him most—her soft laugh or her softly spoken answer to the riddle.

  He reflexively retracted his hand. The facade crumbled. All pretense vanished, and it was no longer Brother Gabriel looking at her with abject hatred. It was Alvin Medford Conway.

  And it was he who angrily gestured for Hancock to get on with it.

  Penetrating the Temple turned out to be easier than Tobias had anticipated. It wasn't without its obstacles, but it wasn't the fiasco it could have been. He had dreaded a full-scale standoff or shoot-out with cult members. The bureau didn't need the negative publicity, and, if it went the way of similar incidents where people were wounded or killed, his career would be put on hold for the years required to conduct a thorough investigation.

  But when he flashed his ID at the guard in the gatehouse, the young man was awestruck by Tobias and the men accompanying him. Because it would have taken too long to summon other agents from Santa Fe or Albuquerque, even if they'd come by chopper, and since the local sheriff was AWOL, Tobias's backups were policemen from the Indian reservation that incorporated a portion of the county.

  Also with him were Lawson and Hart. If Tobias had known that Hart was going to insist on coming along, he would have left him locked in the jail cell. As it was, he was there, looking like he'd already fought in one battle tonight.

  Swallowing a knot of apprehension, the Temple's young guard asked, "Did somebody do something wrong?"

  "Did you admit a woman into the compound this evening?" "Yes, sir. About an hour ago."

  "Then it's you who's done something wrong. She's a threat to Brother Gabriel. Open the gate."

  "Can I call my supervisor?"

  Shortly, a jeep roared up to the opposite side of the gate. A man stepped out and came toward them, his bearing defensive and suspicious. He was backlit by headlights, which he'd failed to turn off. "Baker, chief of security," he said through the iron pickets. "What's the problem?"

  "Special Agent Hank Tobias, FBI."

  Baker seemed singularly unimpressed with Tobias's credentials. If anything, his hostility rose a notch. "I say again, what's the problem?"

  When he was informed that Brother Gabriel's life was in danger, he was only marginally more receptive to the idea of letting them inside the compound. "My men know that the woman in question is here. We'll take care of it."

  "Look," Tobias said, "I don't care if you're dancing with snakes and biting the heads off live chickens in there. I'm only trying to keep Brother Gabriel from getting killed tonight.

  And just in case you don't think the threat is serious, look what this woman did to him." He hitched his thumb in Hart's direction and Baker took in the nasty, unattended cut on his cheekbone and the streaks of blood that had dried on his face. "And he's supposedly a friend of hers.

  "Now, if you want to go on TV tomorrow and explain why we were delayed and thereby prevented from saving your boss's life, then fine. I'm not a big fan of his. I have no vested interest in this except to uphold my duty and do my job, which tonight is to apprehend an armed and dangerous woman who's threatened the life of a public figure.

  "I don't need your permission to blow this gate all to hell in order to do that job. I'd just rather not have to go to the time and trouble. All boiled down, what I'm telling you is that the only choice you have in this matter is how difficult or easy to make it."

  Lawson was a little less diplomatic. He drew his nine-millimeter. "Open the fucking gate."

  The gate was opened, but Baker balked at Tobias's first request. "Shut down the security cameras."

  "I can't do that without Mr. Hancock's authorization." "Who's Mr. Hancock?"

  "Brother Gabriel's personal assistant."

  "Where is Mr. Hancock?"

  "In Brother Gabriel's private quarters. With him and Ms. Lloyd."

  Hart stepped forward and asked, "Are there cameras in there?" Tobias didn't rebuke him for asking. He'd been about to ask that himself.

  "That's the only area of the compound where cameras aren't allowed," the security officer told them.

  "But they could see us?"

  "If they're watching the monitors."

  "Then unless you want to alert Ms. Lloyd that we're here and cause her to do something reckless, I'd ditch the cameras."

  Baker spoke into his walkie-talkie and ordered that the cameras be disengaged. Then he returned to his Jeep and told them to follow him.

  "I'm riding with him," Lawson said. "Don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

  Three minutes later, with Baker acting as their escort, they were admitted into the lobby of the main building. The number of armed men patrolling the building made Tobias uneasy. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

  "What floor are the private quarters on?" he asked.

  When Baker didn't answer immediately, Lawson poked him in the spine. "Have you gone deaf or what?"

  "Third. I'll show you."

  "No, you're staying here." At a signal from Tobias, one of the reservation cops quickly relieved Baker of his weapon and walkie-talkie. The man went ballistic, but Tobias threatened to put him in restraints if he didn't calm down and shut up. "This is for your own protection." Which was bullshit, and Baker knew it. He continued to grouse but was smart enough not to assault an FBI agent during the performance of his duty. Tobias ordered three men to stay downstairs to monitor the activities of Baker and his security guards.

  "You stay, too," he told the astronaut as he crowded into the elevator behind everyone else. "Help keep an eye on Baker." "Not on your life."

  "It's your life I'm thinking about."

  "Which I'm responsible for."

  "Not tonig
ht, you're not. I don't want a national hero getting himself killed on my watch. Now step out of the elevator."

  As Chief backed out of the cubicle, he made eye contact with each of the reservation policemen. One by one they stepped out of the elevator and joined him.

  Tobias knew when he was beat. He'd needed the manpower, and the reservation police force had been his only resource. He knew the story of how Brother Gabriel had acquired the property for his Temple. That's why he had been surprised when the reservation police chief had been reluctant to loan him some officers for the night. The man's excuse was that he was shorthanded, that several of his officers were out on another detail and he had none to spare.

  Tobias didn't know whether to believe him or not. Native Americans had a general mistrust of and dislike for federal agents, an inherent suspicion that was justifiable and had been generations in the making. He'd thought that as a black man he would have an edge with the Indians.

  But not as sharp an edge as Christopher Hart had. If not for Hart, his request would probably have been denied. As it turned out, when Hart asked the police chief to grant him this personal favor, a team of eight men had been immediately assembled.

  He also recognized leadership qualities in Christopher Hart that were admirable and enviable. With nothing more than a look he had commanded the eight men, and he knew before testing it that Hart's authority over them would supersede his.

  "We can take the stairs," Hart said.

  "Get in," Tobias said tightly.

  As they rode up, they checked their weapons. The group alighted and silently approached the double doors. Just as they reached them, they heard, "If you kill me, you'll destroy yourself."

  Then Brother Gabriel saying, "Riddles, Melina?"

  "No. Answers. If you kill me, your baby will die, too."

  Christopher Hart had heard enough. He barged past Tobias and thrust open the door. The men surged into the room, weapons drawn and ready to fire. In an instant, Tobias assessed the situation and shouted, "Drop the weapon and release her!"

  The Indian policemen fanned out to form an arc along the perimeter of the room. Some of their weapons were trained on Brother Gabriel, others on the armed man, whom Tobias assumed was Hancock.

  Chief was unarmed, but his voice posed enough of a threat when he strode up to Hancock and said levelly, "If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

  Tobias knew he meant it. "Let me handle this, Hart."

  Hart seemed not to have heard him. "Gillian, are you all right?"

  "Gillian?"

  That from Brother Gabriel, whom for the time being Tobias ignored. "Let her go!" he ordered the man still holding a pistol to Gillian Lloyd's head.

  Brother Gabriel spoke again, this time with remarkable composure, considering the shock he had suffered. "Mr. Hancock, it's safe to release her now. She's not going to shoot me in front of so many witnesses. You men arrived in the nick of time."

  Hancock looked indecisive for a moment, but at a gesture from Brother Gabriel, he lowered the pistol, then dropped it to the floor.

  The reservation policeman nearest him kicked it out of his reach. Christopher Hart stepped forward. He and Gillian Lloyd reached for one another. Hands clasped, he drew her out of harm's way. They exchanged a look that tweaked the heart of even a confirmed bachelor like Tobias. It lasted no more than a millisecond, but it was potent.

  Then she pulled her eyes away from Hart and addressed the evangelist. "I'm Gillian."

  "You're lying."

  "It's been nearly a week since I was inseminated. A simple blood test will show whether or not I conceived."

  "It's true, you son of a bitch," Chief said. "She's Gillian."

  "Believe them," Tobias said. "I read the autopsy report tonight. Read it, not skimmed it as I had before. The body the coroner autopsied didn't have a uterus or ovaries."

  "I missed that," Lawson admitted. "Melina Lloyd had had a hysterectomy."

  "He knows," Gillian told them. "Hancock discovered that when he did a background check on her."

  Brother Gabriel smiled pleasantly. "Well, well, what a surprise. You're Gillian. Pleasure to meet you."

  "Go to hell." Turning to Hart, she said, "If Longtree hadn't left the first chamber of that pistol empty, I'd be dead. He'd pulled the trigger."

  Hart took a threatening step toward Hancock, but Tobias spoke his name sharply and he stayed where he was. Although it might not have been his order but rather Gillian's hand on his arm that kept him where he was.

  Tobias looked from them to Brother Gabriel and was surprised to see that he was smiling. "We haven't been properly introduced. I assume you're Agent Tobias."

  "That's right."

  "Our appointment isn't until tomorrow. Why'd you come tonight?"

  "On the pretext of saving your life."

  "Pretext?"

  Lawson said, "I'd like to question you about the murders of Melina Lloyd, Linda Croft, and Jem Hennings."

  The preacher turned to him. "And you must be Lawson." His eyes took in Lawson's mismatched wardrobe and rumpled appearance. "Your reputation precedes you, Detective. I can't fathom why you'd want to question me. I wasn't anywhere near Dallas when those people met their demise."

  Lawson practically growled at him.

  Brother Gabriel dismissed him and looked back at Tobias. "Ms. Lloyd—Gillian, as I find out—talked her way in here tonight, issuing accusations and threats on my life."

  "He's lying," she said quietly.

  "She pulled a gun on me. Mr. Hancock had just divested her of it when you burst in."

  "Three busloads of children left here as I arrived," Gillian said. "I'm sure you'll find the Anderson baby among them."

  "Video and broadcast equipment," Brother Gabriel explained with a helpless shrug. "We transport it in buses when we telecast from a remote location."

  "There's also a dormitory full of children," she said.

  "There is indeed," he conceded, laughing. "They belong to the men and women who live and work here at the Temple. She's delusional. Her twin's death has—"

  "Shut the fuck up," Lawson snarled.

  "Lawson," Tobias said. Then, to Brother Gabriel, "Why were you holding a gun to her head? Was that necessary to subdue her?"

  "Mr. Hancock thought so. She, along with Colombo here, is entertaining a crazy notion that I'm somehow responsible for her twin's murder. Mr. Hancock was merely restraining her until our local sheriff could be summoned."

  "I don't need to be summoned."

  At the new voice, all eyes turned to the uniformed man who stepped from behind the heavy velvet draperies. He was clutching a service revolver between his hands, and it was aimed at Brother Gabriel. "It's not this lady's word against yours. I can tell them all they need to know about you."

  "Sheriff Ritchey! So that's where you disappeared to."

  "The last place you'd expect," the sheriff sneered. "To quote you."

  "How'd you manage?"

  "I came in while you and Hancock were out. The so-called bodyguards that came back with you didn't even search behind the drapes."

  Brother Gabriel looked over at Hancock, who was glaring at the sheriff. "Those men should be replaced." Then, turning back to Ritchey, he said, "Can you explain why you've been lurking behind the draperies?"

  Ritchey gripped the extended pistol tighter, but his hands were as unsteady as his voice. "I want to hear you say it."

  Tobias was thinking, Shit, shit, an element I hadn't foreseen. "Easy with that weapon, Sheriff Ritchey."

  But Ritchey was impervious to anything except Brother Gabriel. Tears had filled his eyes, but he was unmindful of them. "I want to hear you say her name."

  "Who's name?"

  "Oleta's name," he fairly screamed. "Her name isn't Mary. And she wasn't a whore when you got her. You turned my sweet, curly-haired little girl into a whore! You said if she came to live here, she'd be treated like a princess. That she'd have a better life, get a better education than I could afford to give her.
But all you taught her is how to..." His voice cracked. He was unable to finish.

  "Sheriff Ritchey, holster your weapon and—"

  "No. I'm not letting him smile and fancy-talk his way out of this."

  "If he has charges to answer to, he'll answer to them in court."

  But Ritchey gave a hard shake of his head, rejecting Tobias's calm arguments.

  One of the reservation policemen took cautious steps toward him, but he caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and warned the man not to come any closer. "Stay back! This is between him and me. You can shoot me if you want to, but I'd kill him anyway. At this range, I wouldn't miss."

  Brother Gabriel glanced frantically at Tobias. "You're the FBI, for God's sake. Do something."

  "Who's Mary? What's he talking about?"

  "I traded my little girl for a badge," Ritchey sobbed. "A badge. You convinced me it would be good for her. Her salvation, you said. You said it would be best for everybody. But you took her innocence and turned her into a whore."

  The man was rapidly unraveling. Tobias was desperate to prevent bloodshed. Anybody's. "Ritchey! Put down your weapon. Now!"

  "Sheriff, you heard Agent Tobias," Brother Gabriel said silkily. "Stop this nonsense. Mary's nature was never innocent. She was born to do what she's doing. I never forced her to do anything. Ask her. She'll tell you how much she loves loving me."

  Suddenly the sheriff's congested features cleared. He sniffed his nose. He blinked away his tears. And with amazing calm, he said, "You're going to die."

  CHAPTER 41

  "He knew what he was doing."

  Agent Tobias was addressing the group that had assembled in the sheriff's office, for lack of a more convenient place. Chief had readjusted the thermostat to a tolerable temperature. The deputies, who'd been summoned back, had made coffee. They were operating like robots, shocked that their boss, Sheriff Ritchey, was occupying the jail cell. He was under suicide watch. The door between the front office and the hallway leading to the cell was closed.

  Gillian was glad she couldn't see down the hallway. It brought back bad memories, although she only had to look at Chief's face to be reminded of what she'd done to him. Part of what she'd done to him. But not nearly the worst.