Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) (14 page)

If I could figure out
how
.

Chapter 12

Holly was hoping she’d hear from Aspen . . . hoping and praying that Aspen and Jonathan would allow her to help them, truly help them in bringing down the prophet. For once, in her miserable existence as his nineteenth wife, she finally had hope. Suddenly the days flew by, she didn’t notice how hot and sticky she was each night after a day stuck in the laundry room, she didn’t mind the looks of scorn on Clarence’s face when he noticed her unusually chipper demeanor. She held her kids a little longer with each hug, smiled a little more when they told her about their days with the other children.

The only thing missing was word from Aspen. But that was all about to change on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon. The heat of the laundry room had gotten a little overwhelming, and so, without complaint she decided to take a short walk after setting all the machines for their cycles.

While on her walk, she dreamed, as she usually did, about life outside the compound. Only now her dreams felt attainable. She didn’t feel silly or foolish to have them in the first place. She felt as if just about anything was possible, especially since she had Jonathan’s word. He would help her and her children leave this wretched place. Convincing them to leave would be . . . interesting. Her daughter, Charlotte, would volunteer immediately. Like mother, like daughter. Charlotte was fascinated by the outside world and yearned to be free of her controlling and detached father. But her son, Silas, was another story entirely. Silas was devoted and determined to be a man who lived by the principle of plural marriage. He’d just turned thirteen years of age and, more than ever, had his sights set on fulfilling his role as an elder of the church. Holly knew Silas had delusions of grandeur, thinking he’d have a role in the priesthood of the church. But there was no chance of that. She feared upon his sixteenth or even seventeenth birthday, he’d be exiled from the community, simply for being her son. Clarence would tell him there weren’t enough wives to go around and it was time for him to live his life as an apostate. Silas would be devastated . . . beyond that, he’d be demolished. If only she could convince him to leave before that ever came to pass.

Rather than obsessing over the negatives, she focused on the endless possibilities that would await her in the outside world, and while doing so, she caught a glimpse of the very woman she’d hoped to hear from during the past three weeks.

Aspen.

Aspen was walking with two of her children toward the park and so Holly changed her course to meet her there. She could only hope Aspen wouldn’t be cross with her and might actually give her a job to do for the case. Aspen turned her head slightly and the women made eye contact. Aspen paused and then offered a wave, gesturing for Holly to join her at the park.

Taken aback, Holly actually looked over her shoulder to make sure Aspen was, in fact, waving to her. Aspen knitted her brow and became more aggressive in her wave, rolling her eyes at Holly’s surprised action. Holly was so used to Aspen shooing her away, she couldn’t help but be shocked by her beckoning wave.

When she reached the park, she looked around to make sure they were alone. Aspen pushed her little boy on the swing and Holly sat at a nearby table, pretending to look at her outdated phone.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Aspen said, looking the other direction. “I need to talk to you, and I don’t have your cell number.”

“You could’ve come to the house—never mind. Silly notion.”

“Yeah, the prophet’s house is the last place I’d be.”

Holly shook her head in frustration. She was blowing this.

“I know, forgive me.”

“No, it’s fine. I just . . . I need your help.”

She perked up, and without thinking it through, gave Aspen her full attention. “You do?

Aspen waved at her like a pesky insect, before pointing at Holly’s phone.

“Oh, yes, sorry. You make me nervous, Aspen.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Aspen huffed, pushing her son higher as he squealed with delight. “Did you know Ruthie was at your house yesterday? Did you see her?”

“No, I didn’t. I told you, I’m in the laundry for most of the day.”

“Janine was taking her measurements. I thought maybe she did that in the laundry room.”

“No, she has a special dressing room area for that. And I’m not really allowed in there. How did you find out? I mean, I’m assuming Ruthie didn’t tell you herself, knowing where you stand on all of this.”

“She was caught red-handed when she got home. I forced it out of her.” She shook her head. “I
always
know when my children are lying to me. It doesn’t matter how old they get, I can always tell. Ruthie thinks she can fool me, but she’s sorely mistaken.”

“Have you told Detective Cooke yet?”

Aspen paused and Holly glanced up quickly to see her teeth clenched and her lips pressed into a thin line.

Oh no.

“He didn’t drop the case, did he?” Holly said in a panic.

He’s my ticket out of this place! Please say he didn’t, please say he didn’t, please . . .

“Not exactly. I’d rather not discuss it at length, but I’m not sure that his intentions are pure.”

“He seemed genuine to me.”

“And what do you know about it?” Aspen snapped, and Holly flinched at her acerbic tone. The last thing she wanted to do was agitate Aspen, especially since she was already upset. But her impression of the detective was a good one. She felt he was a man of his word, a man who genuinely wanted to help them.

Maybe I was wrong.

“Besides,” Aspen said, smoothing her skirt, “he’s probably the
only
gentile you’ve met. Clarence Black may be a horrendous excuse for a human being, but there are plenty of those in the outside world too.”

Despite her desire to prove herself to Aspen, she was tired of being talked down to when all she wanted to do was
help
.

“I know that. I’m not stupid, Aspen.”

Aspen paused, opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it, offering a nod. After a moment of silence, she finally spoke. “You’re right, I’m sorry. To say I’m frustrated would be such a grand understatement. I don’t know which way is up these days. Or who I can count on.”

Holly looked up from her phone, looking at Aspen with newfound confidence. “You can count on me.”

Aspen closed her eyes and shook her head ever so slowly, and Holly assumed she was absorbing her words, her intentions. “I hope so.”

“What do we do?” Holly pressed. “What’s the next step?”

“I have to get back inside the temple.”

Holly was confused, and Aspen could tell by her contorting forehead. “I know you don’t know all the details, but the prophet has been doing horrible, unspeakable things. And the answers, all the answers we need are in the new temple. At least, I think they are. But I can’t get those doors to unlock.”

“The new temple?” Holly stared down at the keys of her phone, attempting to process what Aspen was saying. To her knowledge, the only people allowed in the new temple were the construction crew. And the prophet, of course.

“I’m confusing you, I’m sorry.” Aspen glanced around them and lowered her voice slightly as her little one drifted to sleep in the swing. His little head slumped over his chest and drool spilled from his lips.

“The prophet is running a business . . . with gentiles. Currently he’s utilizing a . . . room in the old temple, but he has more rooms prepped in the new building . . . up on the third floor. I couldn’t pick the locks.”

“You can
do
that?”

“I thought I could, but not these. They’re too advanced for a couple of hairpins and a woman with little patience.”

“I see.”

“And I have something of the prophet’s that I need to return to his office.”

Holly perked up. “I can help with that.”

As private as Clarence was, he’d allowed his wives to run errands for him quite often, including dropping personal items in his office at the temple. She knew where the keys were kept. She could do this. Yes, she most definitely could prove herself useful.

“Are you sure?”

“I know exactly where he keeps the keys. I can be in and out in minutes.”

“Really?” Aspen perked up, looking much less defeated than she had only moments ago. It pleased Holly to know she was the cause of her shift in outlook.

“Mm hmm.” She nodded vigorously. “Choose an evening and we’ll meet in front of the temple. You bring whatever it is.”

“It’s a ledger. The one Jonathan mentioned at his office.”

Holly was overjoyed Aspen was trusting her enough to fill in some of the blanks regarding the case. Slowly, she would prove herself. Ever so slowly . . . and maybe, just maybe, she and Aspen would become more than allies. They’d become friends.

She nodded. “And we’ll get it returned.”

“Tomorrow night?” Aspen asked, looking eager.

“It’s a plan.”

Chapter 13

I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to close a case. Proudly, I finished up two cases this afternoon. It was an exhausting day, to say the least. I arrested and received a confession from a drugged-out convenience store robber. Once he saw we had him on the store’s recorded footage, he caved and confessed to all four of the recent robberies. And almost immediately after I closed the book on that case, a lead came through on the forensics for the Stevenson case. DNA evidence on the victim was clear. We had our murderer and were able to bust him before he left town.

Sergeant Ross did a double take in front of my office when he realized I was still sitting behind my desk well after 8:00 p.m.

“Cooke, you’re still here?”

“Yes, sir. Just finalizing paperwork is all.”

“You had a good day,” he said with an unaffected nod, but deep down I knew he was pleased to have two large, high-profile cases closed. It made him look good, and that’s really all Ross cared about.

“Go home, get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

My phone buzzed from my pocket and I did a double take when I saw the pictures across my screen. Pictures of the ledger from Aspen, detailed with several names, including James Penowsky. Then, a short note.

-The prophet’s ledger has been returned to his office. Thought you should know.

With my heart taking a giant leap all the way up to my throat, I wrote back immediately.

-Great news. Does this mean we’re still working together on the case? I really hope so.

I waited five minutes. No response.

-Please, Aspen. I know I can’t take back what happened, but I still want to help you. I promise, that’s as far as it goes. You have my word.

Five more minutes. Nothing.

Your word doesn’t mean anything, Cooke. Not anymore.

With a huff, I knocked the picture frames off my desk. They dropped to the floor and I heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor.

“Great. Just fucking great,” I muttered, digging my elbows into the desk and hanging my head into my open palms. Feeling like a caged animal—one who locked itself into its own private hell—I searched for an escape, even one that would lead to nothing. And then I remembered the bright green, crumpled Post-it note inside my desk. Slowly, I opened the drawer and picked up the neon square, staring down at the little heart over the “i” and pondering whether it’d be a good idea to call Linda Jean.

Pros: she was cute, flirtatious, and would definitely take my mind off Aspen, even if for only a few hours.

Cons: as much as I fought it, my mind would drift back to Aspen as I checked my phone every few minutes . . . and what kind of dick would I be to lead on Linda Jean like that?

I held the Post-it in my hand, staring at it, desperate for answers. And then my phone rang. I looked down at the screen hoping to see Aspen’s name. It wasn’t. Instead, it was a number I didn’t recognize. Thinking it could be regarding one of my cases, I reluctantly answered the call. A meek, sweet voice was on the line.