Lark listened to the sound of footsteps on linoleum, her eyes squeezed shut, her grip tight on the key. She didn’t dare turn to see who was coming. The key was her one hope of escape, and she was afraid whoever it was would see it and take it from her.
Beside her, fabric rustled and the floor creaked.
She didn’t open her eyes. Let whoever it was think that she was asleep. Better yet, let him think she was unconscious. Maybe he’d go away. Leave her alone to figure out how she could open the cuffs without being seen by the security team.
“I know you’re awake.” The voice was smooth and rich, and she recognized it immediately. The man who’d dropped the key. The one who’d mentioned Essex.
Was it a trick? Some sort of mind game to get her to...
What?
Confess to searching Elijah’s office?
She’d been caught doing that, so eliciting a confession wouldn’t make any sense. But, then, nothing had made sense since she’d arrived back at Amos Way. Not her mother-in-law’s silence. Not her father-in-law’s fanaticism. Eric had changed since Joshua died. Not in a good way.
“Lark.” The man sighed. “Let’s not play games, okay? We’re on borrowed time as it is.” He cupped her biceps, pulled her up easily. She was sitting, then standing so quickly she felt dizzy with it. For a moment, she was back in time, standing with Joshua, looking at the compound for the first time, listening to him talk about growing up free from the trappings of the world, tuned into nature and focused on The Creator. She’d fallen in love with the picture he’d painted, but, then, she’d already been in love with him.
“You going to walk with your eyes closed or do you want me to carry you out of here? Either works for me.”
The words were a splash of ice water in the face. She jerked away, the key pressed so hard into her palm, she knew the imprint of it would be left in her skin.
He didn’t try to pull her back, just stood where he was, blocking her path to the door. Maybe six-foot, a hundred and eighty pounds. Big compared to Lark, but she’d never been intimidated by physical strength. At least not in recent years. When she’d been a kid, walking home in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Chicago, she’d been scared. She’d gotten over that quickly. The will to survive and the knowledge that she only had herself to depend on had made her tough. The key to taking down a bigger, tougher opponent was the element of surprise. Without it, she didn’t have a chance.
She lunged forward, aiming her foot for the man’s instep and hitting her mark. He grunted, and she rammed both fists into his stomach, hopped out the door into the cold clean air. With her ankles tied, she couldn’t move fast, but she stumbled down the stairs, managed to stay upright as she headed across overgrown grass. She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t have a clue as to where she could find safety. If she managed to escape the fenced area, she’d have to trek through thick forests to get to civilization. The closest town was a tiny speck on the map—seventy miles away, fifteen hundred people, ten full-time police officers. One of them with deep connections to Amos Way. She might not find allies there, but at least she could find a phone, could call a friend to give her a ride back to Baltimore.
The compound’s main gates were to the north, but heading there wouldn’t do her any good. She tried to run toward the side of the trailer, tripped on her feet and the ropes that bound her ankles. She fell hard, the breath knocked from her lungs, her fists slamming into her gut.
She tried to get to her feet.
“You don’t know when to give up, do you?” the man asked, yanking her upright.
“I’ll never give up,” she replied, but her voice was weak, her body trembling.
“Great. Good. You just keep on fighting, but how about you don’t fight me?” He moved her forward, nudging her toward the old church where she and Josh had gotten married. It stood on a hill overlooking the compound, its clapboard siding whitewashed and gleaming in the moonlight. Behind it, a small cemetery spread out across two acres. Just beyond that, the fence protected the members of Amos Way from intruders. Or kept them from leaving.
She didn’t know why he was leading her there, and she dug her heels in, tried to stop their forward momentum. She stumbled, would have gone down if his arm hadn’t wrapped around her waist.
“Keep moving,” the man murmured, his fingers loose, his grip light. “Do you want John to join us?”
“I want to leave!” she responded, her voice raspy and hot sounding.
“You and me both,” he replied, prying her hand open and taking the key from it.
She wanted to scream, cry, beg for mercy, but that was another thing she’d learned a long time ago—don’t let your opponent see your fear.
“You want to go, then leave,” she managed to say, and he shook his head.
“It would be nice if it were that easy, but John has this place sealed up tight. Getting out isn’t going to be as easy as getting in, and even that wasn’t all that easy.” He lifted her wrists, used the key to unlock the handcuffs, pulled a knife from his gun belt.
Her mouth went dry, and she tried to back up.
“Calm down, Lark. I’m not planning to use this on you.” He bent over, sliced through the ropes at her ankle.
Blood flooded into her feet. She didn’t have time to think about it. He gave her a gentle push toward the church.
“Here’s how we’re going to play things. You’re going to keep looking terrified—”
“Looking?” she mumbled, and he met her eyes, offered a half smile that did nothing to ease the hardness of his face.
“Just keep on being terrified. John wants me to question you about whatever it is you took from Elijah.”
“I didn’t take anything.” She hadn’t had a chance. She’d managed to sneak into Elijah’s house during the evening prayer meeting, but she’d been caught before she could do more than open his file cabinet. Whatever he was hiding, whatever the compound fronted for, she hadn’t had time to uncover it.
“That’s not what John and Elijah think.”
“I don’t really care what they think.”
“Maybe you should since they had you hog-tied in a trailer.”
“And sent you to question me,” she pointed out. “You probably know more about what they want then I do.”
“Probably not. I’ve barely spoken to Elijah, and John keeps things close to the cuff.”
“So you’re just blindly following orders?”
“I’m helping a friend,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and frowning. “Essex was worried about you. The police weren’t listening to his concerns, so he asked me to check on you. I guess it’s fortunate for you that he did.”
She’d met Essex a year and a half ago, not long after Joshua’s death. She’d been substituting at the school where he taught fifth grade. At the end of the year, she’d been offered a contract to teach full-time. The job had been a godsend. So had Essex. He’d taken her under his wing, brought her home to meet his kids and wife. He was the closest thing to a family she had.
She’d hoped he’d worry when she didn’t show up for work, but the first day of school had come and gone, and the police hadn’t shown up, no one had come looking for her. She’d realized she was on her own, trapped because she’d been just foolish enough to think she’d be safe in a place that had killed her husband.
“How do you know Essex?”