Warning Shot

by Jenna Kernan

  “He’s not even there and he’s still controlling them.”

  “Yes. It’s disturbing. He’s waiting for an attorney and hoping for some sort of deal.”

  “Will he get one?” asked Axel, the sour taste in his mouth and pitching stomach now taking much of his attention. Four dead children. He shook his head.

  “Not if I have anything to do with it. You all right? You look pale.”

  He took a few deep breaths, unsure if his condition was physical or a result of being heartsick.

  “I’m not all right, but I am willing to help in any way.”

  She nodded her approval of this.

  “We have several members of Hal Mondello’s family in custody and are rounding up more of his people. Seems they had some sort of alliance with Wayne Trace. Mondello distributed what Trace smuggled in from Canada, which we, unfortunately, were unable to recover. It’s unclear if they knew what they were transporting.”

  “The duffel Rylee recovered from the Kowa people?”

  “That was the second shipment. The first got through. We thought this was the work of Chinese nationals. But that woman you dragged from the river is North Korean. A chemist. We believe Siming’s Army was trying to point blame at China, in hopes of increasing tension between nations. That would serve the North Koreans. North Korea would benefit greatly if we lifted sanctions on them while continuing them on China, and even more so if we challenged Chinese control of that region.”

  “Did you say a chemist?”

  “Yes. Possibly here to culture the virus within our borders.”

  “Culture it where?”

  “That’s the top question on our list. Most especially if there is a plant currently in operation of this deadly strain of flu as we speak.”

  That thought chilled.

  “But you’ve stopped them?”

  “I’m afraid they don’t need the chemist to reproduce what she carried.”

  “Biohazard?”

  “It’s a pathogen, Axel. Called a virus seed stock because they use it to propagate more of the virus. Some of it is here. This disease is a powerful killer, the likes of which we haven’t seen since the Middle Ages. If it gets loose, we will suffer the worst pandemic ever faced in America.”

  “A plague?”

  “Of sorts. But much, much faster. My experts liken it to the influenza epidemic of 1918.”

  “But we have the vaccine?”

  “Which takes time to produce. In the meantime, we need to find virus seed stock and kill it before Siming’s Army can turn that seed sample into an epidemic.”

  She reached in her pocket, removed a pack of cigarettes and then dropped it back in place. Axel was certain she longed for a smoke. Who could blame her?

  “Now, if you would come with me, you can get me up to speed on this cult on the way.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Axel had been back within the compound all day speaking to members of the cult individually, with Catherine Ohr there for each interview. The ashtray before her smoldered with the last stubbed-out cigarette.

  “Only a few more,” she said. “Let’s take a break.”

  They walked out together into the grassy quad. DHS had set up a mobile operations station complete with multiple trailers within the compound’s central courtyard. They had even erected a mess hall between the church and living quarters. Generators hummed, powering the mobile light towers that illuminated their way. The entire area now had a distinctly military feel.

  Male members of the congregation were being held in the worship hall and the female members were detained in the congregation’s dining hall.

  As they continued past yet another trailer, Ohr reached for another cigarette and glanced at her phone. “Seven p.m.,” she muttered. “I need coffee.” She pointed at him. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  “They have pastries and coffee in the mess tent. I’ll bring you something.”

  She strode off toward her people, who moved in and out of the buildings, carrying off computers and other bagged evidence.

  Agent Rylee Hockings stepped from the sanctuary beside the main worship hall, where he had just been.

  “You’re here!” he said, sweeping over her and finding her pale and circles under her eyes.

  “For several hours now. I’ve been interviewing the female members of the cult.”

  They clasped hands and he smiled at her, his heart dancing a percussive rhythm of joy at the sight of her.

  “Rylee, you gave me such a scare.” He had so much to tell her, to say. He wanted to rush forward and tell her that he loved her and that he wanted her in his life. Then he saw two of his father’s men marched past them in handcuffs. The shame of his association with this congregation broke inside him like a drinking glass dropped on ceramic tile. Millions of shards of doubt splintered out in all directions.

  “I need to thank you for coming after me. I was losing to the river,” she said and gave his hands a squeeze before letting go. Her smile held. “But we got her. Thanks to you. Who knows what we’ll learn.”

  “Ohr told me she’s a North Korean national.”

  “What? Really?”

  “She also told me that Sister Della was the one who directed you to the wharf.”

  “That’s true.” Rylee was glancing about as if searching for someone. Her supervisor?

  “That surprises me,” he said. “It seems hard to believe that a congregation elder would do something that jeopardized the group. Any idea why she would do that?”

  “Just a theory. I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

  “What’s your theory?” he asked.

  “I think she did it to help you.”

  “Me? Why would she want to help me?”

  “Ah... I need to find my supervisor.”

  And just like that, his opportunity fled. Rylee was back on her mission. It would be easier to stop a runaway toboggan than to prevent her from moving forward with her investigation.

  There will be other opportunities, he told himself. Better ones, ones when he rehearsed what to say. No woman wanted to be proposed to in a time and place like this.

  He could imagine her telling their kids. Yes, your mother was just out of the hospital after nearly drowning and on her way to interview human trafficking suspects when I proposed.

  He shook his head, dismayed at the ease with which he produced a mental picture of them together with children. What if he waited and there was no other chance?

  “Rylee, I need to tell you something.”

  She was glancing about them now. No longer looking at him, searching, he thought, for her supervisor among the men and women moving across the yard.

  “Take a walk with me?” he asked.

  “All right. But I have to get back.”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  She fell into step beside him away from the aroma of roasting coffee issued from the mess tent. They walked along the worship hall and sat together on a bench that now faced the back of one of the newly placed mobile operation trailers. At least this spot was not directly under one of the many mobile light towers.

  He looked toward the empty women’s quarters. Already the conversation had veered off track. Rylee was asking about the living situations for the females in the congregation.

  “Yes,” he said, in response to her question. “The men lived in one building and the women and young children in another.”

  “But Wayne kept some women in a private enclosure for himself,” she added.

  “He insisted on celibacy among the males. As for the females, they were celibate, too, for the most part.”

  “Unless he deemed otherwise,” she said and scowled. “They said it was only so they could bring him children. As if that were some high honor.” She shook her head, her expression angry. �
��A blessing, they called it. For the men, castration was the highest show of devotion. For women to be most blessed, they needed to give birth.”

  “Yes,” said Axel. Could he have been thinking of proposing to her during this? He must have lost his mind.

  “And the males went along with this,” she said.

  “If they wanted to stay. Father Wayne can be very convincing. Made sure it was a status symbol for the males to lop off their junk and the women to sleep with him. Told his followers that it made them closer to God. Prepared to meet the Lord without lustful, earthly thoughts. But I...”

  “Did he tell you that?” she asked.

  Axel nodded, head bowed and the palm of his hand pressed to the back of his own neck.

  “When I turned thirteen, my own father told me that he wanted me to mutilate myself on my eighteenth birthday. It’s why I ran.”

  “What happened?”

  “Sheriff Rogers picked me up. He went out there and my father denied the entire thing. He claimed I made the whole thing up, but I know whom the sheriff believed. He told my dad that Child Protective Services would be out there to check every child and regularly. But despite all that, we haven’t gotten more than a few children out of their hands.”

  “They got you out.”

  He dropped his hand. “It’s why I stay. To watch over the children, help the ones who run and make certain he never called for them to enter Heaven’s Door. I come out here and I never say when. They let me in because I was a member, hoping, I think, that I would change my mind and come back. As if...” He blew away a breath and then continued. “I’d file a notice of indication with Child Protective Services at any sign the caregivers weren’t meeting basic needs. Then I got out with CPS to check the kids with them, make sure they were safe.”

  “He knew you were watching him.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s why they were never harmed.”

  “Maybe,” said Axel. “But he liked having me come back here. I think he knew how hard it was for me. How much I hated it here. And he enjoyed that my leaving caused me suffering and that he’d managed to trap me in this place despite my desertion. He used me as an example of how you can walk away but you can never leave. He says I’m tied to them despite what I might say or do.”

  “You know, I always thought I had it hard, trying to earn my father’s approval. And he could be exacting, difficult, but nothing like yours.”

  “A fanatic. A con man and now a terrorist. I came from him. What does that make me?” It made him unable to propose to her. That much was certain.

  “I can answer that. It makes you the complete opposite. He takes advantage and you protect. He exploits and you defend.”

  “With him gone, I won’t be tied here any longer, Rylee. I can go.”

  She blinked at him and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought he’d misread her. That what he’d seen as love was just sympathy.

  “What about your mother?”

  He couldn’t even lift his head. “I don’t know which one of the women is my mother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were separated at birth. She could not claim me and stay with them.”

  “There is no them anymore. We’ve been explaining that to the members. They’re starting to come to grips with what’s happening. Most of them, thankfully, are innocent in all of this. Just misguided.”

  “What will happen to them?”

  “Reconnect with families when possible. We’ll process them and release them. Where they go will be up to them.”

  “Will you help them?”

  “If we can.” She laid a small hand on his shoulder and he lifted his chin until he met her sympathetic gaze. “Axel? I know who she is.”

  His heart beat so loud that he thought it might bruise his ribs. “How?”

  “She looks just like you. I met her on Saturday, here at the compound. I thought at first that I knew her. It didn’t take long to recognize why she looked so familiar. I asked her and she confirmed that she gave birth to you. Would you like to speak to her?”

  “Yes!” Axel was on his feet. He leaped at the chance and then thought about confronting a woman who had had many opportunities to reveal who she was—and hadn’t. “Maybe you should speak to her first and see if she wants to speak to me.”

  “All right.” She stood and faced him, offering her hand.

  “Now?”

  Her smile was sympathetic. “Yes, now. They won’t be here much longer.” She was nearly to the sanctuary’s dining hall door when he called her back.

  “Rylee? Which one?”

  “Della Hartfield.”

  He blinked and nodded. “Della.” It seemed right, somehow. “Do I just wait here?”

  “Yes. If she’s willing, I’ll bring her to you.”

  Axel raked a hand through his hair and tugged at his shirt, momentarily dragging out the wrinkles.

  “You look fine, Axel. Just wait. I’ll be right back.”

  He sat on the bench facing the compound’s dining hall as his legs bounced up and down with nervous energy. The next eighteen minutes were the longest of his life. Finally, the door opened and out stepped Della, small and pale, her head still draped in the brown covering she had worn for more than thirty years.

  Axel stood. The word tore from him like a cry. “Mom?”

  She nodded and swept forward, holding out both hands to him. He took them in something that was not the embrace he had imagined.

  He had pictured this meeting so many times, but he was always a boy and she always held him. Instead, this tiny birdlike woman beamed up at him with a smile that seemed to blend contentment with something like madness.

  Della had always appeared to have only one foot on the earth and the other somewhere else entirely, as if her spirit was too light to allow her to ever be completely grounded.

  She kept him at arm’s length as she stared at him. Why had he never seen the similarities until now? Her color matched his, as did her long nose and blue eyes. He pushed back her head covering, expecting to see his blond hair, but her hair was entirely white.

  “I’m so sorry that I never defied him. He told me that God would strike you down if I broke my oath and, God forgive me, I believed him.” Fat tears coursed down her wind-burned cheeks. Her hands were raw from working outdoors and her spine bent slightly.

  “I’m glad my father is under arrest.”

  Her eyes went wide with shock. “Father Wayne?”

  “Yes. I hate him.” Hated that he shared the same blood and that his father’s deadly legacy would cast a shadow across his heart forever.

  Della clasped one of his hands in both of hers and gave a little shake to draw his attention. Then she looked behind her and, seeing only Rylee, she turned back to him. When she spoke, her voice was hushed as if she still feared the retribution of the man who was gone.

  “Father Wayne is not your father,” she said.

  Every nerve in his body fired. Blood surged past his ears and he blinked in stupefaction at her.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “He’s not your father, not really. He claims all the children, but there were a few that were not his by blood. Claiming them was preferable to exposing our failings.”

  Failings? Did she mean their failing to remain celibate?

  “Those of us not chosen to share his bed, well, some of us wanted children. So...”

  “Did he know?”

  “In some cases, and suspected in others. But he never admitted it.”

  Rylee spoke now. “Because to do that would be to admit he did not have complete control of his congregation.”

  Della turned to her and nodded. “I always thought so.”

  “He’s not my father,” said Axel, the words spoken aloud as if to convince himself of what he was sti
ll afraid to believe.

  “Yes, son.”

  “You are certain?”

  “I never slept with the man and I am your mother. So, yes, I’m sure.”

  Axel released Della and stumbled back, colliding with a wooden bench. He placed a hand on the seat as he fell and thus managed to avoid hitting the ground. The bench shuddered with the force of his landing.

  He stared up at his mother as the icy pain in his heart melted away like frost on a spring thaw.

  “Who is he, then?”

  Her smile faltered. “Do you remember Jack Pritcher?”

  Other than Kurt Rogers, Jack Pritcher had been as close to a father as a man could be. In Axel’s mind, the big man came back to life. The father figure merging into a father.

  “Jack died when I was ten,” he said to Rylee.

  “He was our carpenter,” Della told Rylee and patted the bench as if this were one of Pritcher’s creations. “Came from Schenectady. Wife had died, he was older than I was, but he had a kind heart.”

  A weak heart, Axel remembered, because it was his heart that failed him.

  “He came up here after his wife and child died in a terrible car accident. He was a lost soul. I’m sure he never intended to be a father again, but then you came along.”

  “He never told me,” said Axel.

  “Not in words. But in other ways. And you have his build. Very trim and muscular. His hair was quite red as a young man, so he told me. And your beard has red highlights.”

  Axel rubbed the stubble on his cheek.

  “Did you two ever think of leaving?”

  “Why, no. I loved my work with the animals. I understand them in a way I never understood people. They are more straightforward and no facial expressions to confuse me. Jack seemed content keeping the buildings in good condition. It gave him a purpose. You know what he did back there in Schenectady?”

  Axel shook his head.

  “He was a fireman. A protector, just like you.”

  That made his heart ache all over again.

  “Della?” asked Rylee. “Why did you tell me where to find the suspect?”

  “Suspect?” Her placid expression changed to one of confusion. “I didn’t.”