“You may enjoy taking a closer look at the garden tomorrow. Chad, the gardener, does a marvelous job.” Even in the swiftly lengthening shadows, Rachel could see he spoke the truth. The plants were heavy with blooms, their fragrance stinging the air. It would be even more impressive during the day.
With seeming idleness she said, “He must be very talented. How did you convince him to take a job so far from civilization?”
Caleb halted, and together they watched the sun sink behind the mountains in a spectacular display. “I never saw a sunset like that in San Francisco. I’ve yet to grow tired of it.” Belatedly, he answered her question. “Chad is one of our recruits. Those with particular talents often serve in a slightly different capacity.”
Disappointment rose. She ruthlessly kept it from her voice. “How lucky for you that your recruits are so gifted. Dinner tonight was excellent.”
With a touch on her elbow he guided her to a bench at the side of a path, and they sat. “Yes, Eliza is a jewel. She came to us from the Sons of Freedom. Have you heard of them?” Rachel had. “Their loss was my gain.” His teeth flashed in the growing darkness. “I’ve put on five pounds since she’s been here.”
She smiled at the pun, but her mind was busy. She would have stood a better chance of extracting bits and pieces of information from hired help. From his words, she assumed that everyone on the compound was a part of The Brotherhood. Did that mean that Carpenter was paranoid or just very careful? Either way, her job had just gotten a little more challenging.
She pushed the thought aside and seized the opening he’d offered. “If I’m going to eat like that every night, it won’t be long until I start tipping the scale myself. I’m used to being quite active.”
Her words had the desired effect. “Of course you are. Feel free to use the training facilities any time you wish. They’re stocked with state-of-the-art equipment.”
“I’m not surprised.” She turned to face him more fully. “From what I’ve seen there’s been no expense spared in the complex. You must be quite proud of what you’ve accomplished here.”
“Personal wealth makes a great many worries fade away. I feel strongly about what I’m doing. Your father was also a patriot for the cause, wasn’t he? I remember reading about his death when I was in college. You must have been, what? Twelve?”
“Fourteen,” she murmured, averting her gaze. She had to steel herself for the questions that would follow. She didn’t want thoughts of her father crowding in at a time like this, not when she had the opportunity to build a tenuous bond with the man beside her. But the memory of Hans Grunwald would very likely prove valuable in forging that bond. He had, after all, died for the very convictions Carpenter so fervently believed in.
“I’m sorry.” The gentleness in his voice was as much a shock as his words. “It must have been very difficult for you.”
“He died a hero.” The statement all but stuck in her throat, the words parroted from her mother. She’d never understood how her mother could regard as a hero a man who died carrying out an assassination attempt. Had never comprehended how a life of hatred and violence could earn a man a place as a martyr. Her failure to make that connection had led her straight to SPEAR.
Diligently, she shoved the jumbled pain and guilt back into the dark mental corner where she usually kept them. She had an assignment to do here. And memories of her father merely strengthened her resolve to destroy The Brotherhood.
Did Carpenter’s family feel the same bewilderment and failure at the choices he made? Were they physically sickened when they saw the way prejudice had twisted their son, their brother, into something unrecognizable? She thought they must be. From what he’d mentioned, they didn’t approve of his beliefs. She wondered if they’d experienced the same horrible epiphany she had, when she’d finally realized that beneath her father’s face dwelled a monster.
“I’ve upset you.” The pad of his finger caressed her jaw. It was difficult not to jerk away; the thoughts had left her strangely vulnerable.
She shook her head. “He inspired the same sort of loyalty from his followers that you do from yours, and he was a man who insisted on handling important matters by himself. Much as you did this afternoon after Colonel Sutherland interrupted us.” She watched him carefully. “I was concerned when you insisted on confronting the intruders alone. Was there any trouble?”
He gazed into the distance, his profile etched in the darkness. “No, there was no trouble.”
It was apparent that was all he intended to say on the subject. Rachel was far from content with his answer. “Good. I didn’t hear any gunfire, but then, I didn’t know how far away you were.”
“Most problems offer an array of solutions. Force just happens to be the most final one.”
And although her blood ran cold at his ambiguous answer, Rachel was really no closer to knowing what had transpired that afternoon with the Hispanics.
It came as no surprise to Rachel when she opened her door the next morning and saw the same young man, dressed again in black fatigues, leaning against the opposite wall in the hallway. She gave him a casual smile. “You must be an early riser. I hope you had time for breakfast this morning.”
His countenance was stiff, and he focused on a point over her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She started down the hall, and he fell in after her. She wondered what he’d do if she stopped suddenly. Probably plow right into her. Clearly he had taken Sutherland’s chastising to heart. She wouldn’t dislodge him as easily today.
Rachel gave a mental shrug. The young man would be of no concern for a while. She was going to spend the next day or two familiarizing herself with the compound. After the conversation she had with Carpenter last night, she’d felt secure in doing so.
The omelet she had for breakfast was delicious, although she found it somewhat difficult to swallow with her guardian angel hovering nearby. Since the soldier didn’t seem prone to initiating conversation, she tried to engage him. “If we’re going to spend our days together, I think I should at least know your name.”
He hesitated for a moment, before replying, “It’s Private Sallem, ma’am.”
“And I’m Rachel.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She gave a mental sigh. “And what’s your first name?”
He gave the question more consideration than it merited, before finally deciding it was harmless. “Raymond.”
“Excellent.” She smiled at him. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. What could have led someone his age to the hate-filled world of The Brotherhood? Had he been raised in prejudice, as she had, or had he chosen it for himself? She found herself curious. “Do you have family in the compound, Raymond?”
“No, ma’am.”
Her appetite satisfied, she rose from the table and walked from the dining room. “Where are you from?”
“Missouri, ma’am.”
The hallway was lined with artwork she hadn’t had an opportunity to study last night. She paused before each painting and sculpture. The selections could provide more details about Carpenter. Or they may only reveal a man used to surrounding himself with expensive beautiful things. The thought that he probably considered her presence here in the same light nearly made her cringe.
“Missouri is a long way from Idaho. How often do you make it back to visit your family?”
Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear him shuffle his feet. “I don’t have any family, ma’am. My mom died a couple of years ago. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
Which might explain the attraction of the militia group, or others like it. If Raymond had sought out the group