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So they were sisters?
He stared at the certificates on the walls of his study, an impressive and vast array of documents proclaiming him “excellent” or “exceptional,” degrees that proved his natural intellect and ability to work hard against the disadvantages of his early years. And yet, sometimes he erred. His sharp, clinical mind could be clouded by lust, by envy, by greed, sins of the soul that he’d tried so hard to tamp down.
He leaned back in his chair so far that it squeaked in protest.
Why would she lie?
To get the job?
To be near her sister. No wonder he’d blended the two women in his mind, fantasized about both.
Or was she here for a darker purpose?
It didn’t matter. The bottom line was that he couldn’t take a chance with her. And her death was the only sensible answer. Confronting her, exposing her as a liar, might ensure that she was thrown out of the school. But intuition burned deep in his gut, telling him that there was more to her deception.
And he couldn’t take any chances.
The phone jangled in his hand. Analise’s number showed on the screen. He clicked on. Didn’t say a word.
“Jules?” Analise’s voice was clear this time, but he didn’t respond. “Can you hear me? Oh, God, I hope so. Jules? Jules! Listen, Eli would probably kill me if he knew I told you this, but there is something going on at Blue Rock—can you hear me? Oh, God. I didn’t want to tell you, didn’t think you’d be in trouble or danger or, oh, God. Neither Eli nor I are sure of what it is, but there’s some kind of secret club there. I know it sounds weird, but I feel they could be … I don’t know, dangerous sounds so over the top, but that’s what I feel … Jules? Are you there? I thought the place would be good for Shay, but I don’t know. I love the school, believe it really helped me, but … you’re right. Oh, darn, I should have warned you. Look, I’ll try to call back. I hope you’re doing okay, that you’ve got power. We’re out here … Jules? Damn it all anyway!” She clicked off, and the Leader stared at the phone. All of his plans, all of his dreams, all of his ideals flashed like lightning through his mind.
So why was Jules here?
To spy? To get her sister, under court order, out of here?
To expose him?
The Leader’s heart went cold as stone. Lauren Conway’s face shot through his mind, and he touched his pocket, reassuring himself that the small flash drive with its incriminating pictures and information was
still safely tucked away. She, too, had thought she would expose him, and she’d found out the hard way that it was impossible to thwart God’s will.
It had been the last time his followers had met him at the old church, a forgotten building going to ruin. Adjacent to a cemetery, tucked into the forest near the Blue Rock caves, the nearly dilapidated church had provided much-needed secrecy and had been a perfect, secure place to hold his meetings, to praise God, to gather and mold the minds of those most ready to serve the Lord, or so he’d thought.
But as he’d orated, he’d caught a glimpse of her face in the watery panes of a narrow window and had realized then that she’d been spying on him.
A traitor.
Just like the first woman he’d ever truly loved. That first one, she would soon see her mistake, would soon know as he rose in power what a fool she’d been, but Lauren had been another matter.
That night, he’d pretended that he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her, that he hadn’t known of her lies, but she’d found out. Before any real damage had been done.
Again, he touched the small lump in his pocket, reassured himself that the information was secure and reminded himself that he could trust no one. The flash drive was a silent, constant reminder.
He had to be vigilant. He bit on the corner of his lip. As the Lord’s soldier, he needed to take care of any threat to his mission, to make this school the best in the country. He saw himself being elevated, lauded for his good deeds. Blue Rock would be the first of many like academies whose purpose was to aid the disenchanted youth, to turn them to Christ, to mold them into soldiers, an army for God. He thought of his mission much like the kings and emperors of Europe who had organized the Crusades to the Holy Lands, considered himself a warrior like King Richard I of England, the Lionheart.
Yes, blood had been spilled.
But it was necessary in the fight for God’s word to be spread.
In his mind’s eye, he saw himself in the house on the shores of Lake Washington, so much like a castle. Perfect. But he was getting ahead of himself. There was much to do here first, and his soldier was right—the storm provided perfect cover to get rid of the traitors who had infiltrated the academy.
For the time being, here in southern Oregon, travel was still impossible. Planes were grounded, trucks, cars, and buses stranded on the interstate, the local roads impassable. Drifting snow had closed the main gate to the school, and supplies were limited to what was held in the larders.
So far, the electricity was still operational. If and when a transformer blew or a utility pole snapped, there were generators in place, though power would be limited.
So he had to work fast.
Deal with traitors.
