The White Carnation (34 page)

“My sons? I don't have any babies.”
At least not yet.

“You're James's wife, and all the children born to his handmaidens belong to you,” Amalie said. “These women are my handmaidens”—she pointed to the three with her—“so with them, my husband, Peter, and I have twelve children.”

“Twelve? That's impossible.”

The girl laughed. “Not impossible. Peter has been growing his line twice as long as James's. You have five children now, another on the way shortly, and if you're breeding, too, you'll catch up to me in no time.”

“What about you?” Faye asked the girl on the other side of Mary. “What's your name?”

“I'm Elisa,” she said softly.

“When's your baby due?”

“November. Mother and James have both said I can return home after as long as I leave the child. The other mothers did,” she said defensively.

“You're forbidden to speak of that,” Amalie said. “It's unnatural for a woman to leave her child.”

Before she could ask another question, Mother returned.

“Faye, James has arrived to speak with you.” She handed a small key to Annie who'd followed her out, and the girl undid the shackle. “Since we have a guest, the rest of you will stay outside until his visit is over. Enjoy the sun. You won't see it again for a few days.

Faye followed Mother Kate back to a separate stall she hadn't noticed earlier. It was decorated to look like an old-fashioned parlor. Jimmy was looking in the mirror, which she was sure was two-way glass. She almost didn't recognize him. With his hair cut, his face properly shaved, and wearing clean clothes, he was quite handsome. But knowing what a monster he was dampened any attraction she might've felt.

“Good day, wife,” he said, approaching her and kissing her forehead.

“Don't call me that,” she said angrily, pulling away.

“I know it's presumptuous of me, but I've waited so long for this.”

“If you think I'm calmly going to go along with this, Jimmy Farley, you're nuttier than a fruitcake. You think you're the master and I'm your slave? Think again!”

He backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the floor. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

“How dare you strike me!”

“I'll strike you and more if you don't learn your place quickly. Mind your tongue, wife. Blasphemy is a serious crime. You'll feel the brunt of my anger and the rod of correction if you don't obey me and follow the rules. I'd hate to have to whip you and mar that fine skin. I'm sorry I hurt you, but as the Bible says: spare the rod, and you have a willful mare and disobedient children. My mares and I aren't above the law. I'm one of the Chosen. I've made you my consort. It's an honor. Only those who carry the Creator's blood can rule the new order. We'll care for the brethren and subjugate those who oppose us. We'll have many children—sons to rule after me, pure-blooded females to trade with other compounds.”

“Why me, Jimmy? Why the others? What have we done to deserve this honor?” She fought to keep the sarcasm hidden in her voice, but he didn't seem to notice. He smiled, seemingly pleased by her use of the word.

He helped her to her feet. “You reached out to me in my loneliness. The Lord sent you. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, the day you smiled and welcomed me. I chose my handmaidens because they resembled you. It shows more through the camera's eye—the bone structure—what matters most. Normally, nothing from before can come with you, but Mary was different. I knew you'd be happy to have her in our family. You missed her; now you'll be together in service to me and the cause. Ruth has chosen to stay as my concubine. I hope Elisa will decide the same when her child is born, and if she does, our household will be complete. But the choice is ultimately hers. The others wished to be released and they were.”

“What about Meredith? What choice did she have? She wasn't one of yours—she didn't have anything to do with this. Why take her?”

He hung his head, sorrow on his face.

“Meredith was a mistake. In my arrogance, I mistook her for one of mine, and the Prophet was prepared to accept her into the fold, but she was flawed. I've been punished for it, as were the watchers who failed in their task.”

Faye shivered. “It looks like you fared better than the others. You killed her and the others—the Williamsons, and Mary's mother, too. How many people have died because of you? You're a monster.”

He ran his hand through his short hair, reminding her of Rob, and tears threatened.

“Faye, I haven't killed anyone. That isn't my role. You'll learn our ways. The women who bore our children wanted to return home. The Prophet honored their requests. As for the Williamsons, they were to take the baby and abandon him in the countryside. Instead, they chose to hide him and try to keep him. He was weak, like his mother, a bleeder. Only the strong can survive. One of the slayers dispatched them.”

“What about Mary's mother? What did Lucy Green ever do to earn being dispatched?”

“That was a mistake. She surprised the young man in her apartment, and he panicked. He's been disciplined. Since you're forbidden to speak of the before time, Mary will never learn what really happened to her mother. Mother Kate is her mother now and yours. I want Mary to be happy here. Do I have your word you won't tell her about her mother's rebirth?”

“Rebirth? Is that what you call it? Fine. I won't mention her mother's murder.” Telling Mary the truth right now would serve no useful purpose, but when they got out of here, she'd make sure her friend understood what crazed monsters these people were.

He frowned. “I can see it'll take some time to convince you our ways are the best. My time is up. I'll return tomorrow.” He kissed her, and it took everything in her not to vomit.

Rob and the FBI had it wrong; there wasn't one insane man out here. There was a whole swarm of them.

Rob and Trevor sat in a secluded corner of the squad room, looking over covert aerial surveillance photos he'd just received from Langley. Trevor had arranged for a military satellite with infrared heat-seeking capability to search for large concentrations of people in areas where population was sparse throughout Massachusetts. The whole thing was on the QT, but if nothing turned up on today's radar, they'd expand outside the state. There were lots of underpopulated areas in New Hampshire, where they'd look next. Rob stared at the image taken over Slocum and rubbed his chin. According to the shot, there were no more than ten warm bodies in the area. Those would belong to Pierce's team.

“Must've been taken during the day, but where the hell is everyone?”

“I don't know,” Trevor said, scowling, “but I don't like it. If they were there as we suspected, then they've moved out. How did Pierce miss them? I don't like this.”

Before Rob could comment, the door opened.

“Pierce found her!” Tom bellowed. “The son of a bitch found her! He's found them both, and the babies, too. They're in Slocum, just as Faye suspected.”

Rob looked over at Trevor, whose scowl had deepened.
What the hell's going on here?

“Don't say anything,” his boss whispered, and Rob nodded.

“What do you mean, Tom?” Trevor asked.

“They're keeping them on a horse farm just outside of town,” Pierce said, following Tom into the room and looking as slovenly as ever, a self-satisfied grin pasted on his face.

The agent approached the nearest desk, clicked a button on the computer, and a photograph of numerous people appeared on the screen. What drew Rob's gaze were the women within a red circle. The picture was a grainy, black and white satellite image, but he recognized Mary, her body distorted by pregnancy, and beside her, the word “Faye” indicated a slim woman whose hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

Rob stared at the picture, disappointment threatening to drown him. That couldn't be Faye, but the other woman certainly looked like Mary. He was about to tell Pierce that when the stern look on Trevor's face made him swallow his words.

“What are we waiting for?” Tom cried. “Let's get the SWAT team and go get them.”

“Not so fast, cowboy,” Pierce said. “Look over there.”

He indicated a dozen men in the photograph, holding what looked like automatic rifles. Some were on rooftops, others were at ground level. All the rifles appeared to be pointed at the women. It reminded Rob of pictures he'd seen of WWII concentration camps.

“If we go in now, guns blazing, they'll probably kill every last one of them before we can get to them. Look at the photo again. There are eight women in that exercise yard—seven look like they're tied together.”

Pierce put up another photograph. Several women watched a number of toddlers and infants at play on swings and a wooden climber. Rob counted a dozen children—none looked to be more than three. In this picture as in the other, men with rifles had their weapons trained on the women and children.

“These photos were taken three hours ago by our satellite. It took a while to get it into position. We think these may be the missing babies. My men have been watching Slocum for weeks now. It didn't take long to realize something strange was going on. Three days ago, the day Faye disappeared, things changed. The only cars in and out of town belong to the mayor, the vet, and that rancher. They traveled to the horse farm, the mixed-farming operation, and back to town. That's it.”

“That's nuts. What happened to all the other cars you guys have been watching?” Tom asked.

Rob ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to say more, but the look on Trevor's face kept him quiet.

“We don't know. It took a hell of a long time to get answers, but my people at Quantico—the BAU isn't the only FBI department with resources—finally tracked down some of the names on the deeds. They don't own the property. The entire town was bought by a movie studio three years ago. Lights are set up to come on and go off at different times to simulate people living there, but no one does. The place was bought to be the set for a small-town paranormal series that never panned out, and the company went into receivership last year. It looks like Mary Green stumbled onto something that got her into a hell of a lot of trouble and probably got her mother killed.”

“But you guys have been watching people ...” Rob couldn't remain silent.

“Yes, we have, and those bastards knew it. They set us up, showed us what we wanted to see. Once I realized the truth, I sent some men out to check out both farms. The mixed farm is owned by J.T. Lennox. He's got to have three or four dozen men and teenaged boys working there, maybe more, and there's not a single woman on the place. My boys thought that was odd. The crew that checked out Paradise Acres, the horse farm, found the opposite. There are three huge stables, but only a couple dozen horses kept there.” He indicated two buildings on each side of a newer structure. “The ranch is crawling with women, toddlers, babies, and the school-aged kids we'd seen in town—must be twenty of them all told. My guys couldn't see that exercise yard where the pregnant women are from their position, so I called in a favor. We figure there must be eight or ten women in seclusion in there, women like Mary Green, here”—he indicated Mary—“and Faye.”

“But—” Rob started to speak, but Trevor cut him off.

“They look to be in good shape, but you're right, Pierce, we can't just go barging in. What more can you tell us?”

Maybe it doesn't matter that Faye isn't there. If we rescue these women, we'll find her.

Pierce smiled as if he'd just pulled the prize out of the cereal box and used the eraser of a pencil to point at the computer screen, enlarging portions of the image as he did.

“There are men at the ranch, as you can see, a sort of security, prison-guard detail. They run twelve men on duty at a time. When the women aren't out, they appear to do the heavy work around the place.” He yawned and ran his hands down his face. “Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night. According to my men, in the evening, six men go into the house with the women and children, the other six go into the stable. The horse farm belongs to Hezekiah Easton. He's the man on the ridge with the doctor when we went there a few weeks ago. He bought it three years ago, about the same time the studio bought the town, and all its paperwork is in order. That new center barn was built when he took over the place. I'm not a judge of horseflesh, but those horses don't look like anything special to me.”

Pierce used the mouse, clicked on the screen, and brought up another picture taken at ground level with an infra-red lens. Something about the angle seemed off.

“The night Faye disappeared, just before midnight, a van pulled into the ranch. Two men stood beside it long enough for one of my men to get a picture. This guy”—Pierce indicated the older of two men—“is the man I was introduced to as the mayor of Slocum, Duncan Julius. The other, we believe, is your missing photographer, Jimmy Farley. He carried something to that stable before leaving in the van. My men tried to follow him, but he'd gone before they could get to a vehicle. The mayor went back to town.”

Pierce changed the picture on the screen once more.

“This was taken yesterday. Meet Jimmy Farley, aka James Colchester, all cleaned up. He arrived with a horse trailer. He spent a couple of hours in that barn. When he left, all the horses went with him.”

“Son of a bitch. The Jimmy Farley I remember didn't look anything like that guy,” Rob said. “If I met this guy on the street, I wouldn't recognize him.” He shook his head. “You're sure this is the same man?”

“It's him, alright. Facial recognition software confirmed it. Here's the kicker, the thing that's forcing us to move ahead with limited intel: this morning, my men entered the town to get a better look at those supposedly still living there. There's no one in the place, including the mayor we tracked there three nights ago, and it doesn't look as if there ever was.”