Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Eden
The first location was a bust. It looked like an old barn, wide open inside and missing at least half of its roof. There was no sign anyone had been there in years. I let adrenaline carry me through most of the trip out to the second warehouse, then doubt began to settle in.
What the hell was I thinking? I didn’t have a weapon on me, hadn’t told anyone where I was going. A dozen missed calls and even more texts from Adelaide and Milo flashed across my phone screen as I turned down a driveway that was only distinguishable now by the wooden plow spikes lining it.
As I pulled up beside the warehouse, I tried to peer into the hazy windows, searching for signs of life.
Between the dark clouds drowning the last of the weak afternoon sunlight and the falling snow, there wasn’t much to see.
No other cars were parked outside the dingy gray building, no steam rising from a chimney, no lights shining from within.
It looked utterly deserted.
“I’m an idiot,” I whispered.
When my phone rang a second later, I answered it. This was a stupid plan, and I was now sitting half an hour from home while the roads got worse and worse.
“Milo, I’m sorry,” I rushed, “but I—”
“Eden, where are you?”
“Sitting outside the old Juniper Canning warehouse on 104. I’m going to turn around and head back now.”
After some muffled murmurs, Milo said, “No, stay right where you are. We’re almost there. The police might beat us to you, though, so don’t freak out if they show up first.”
I stared blindly at the swirling snow coating the windshield. “The police?”
“They spoke to your brother. Listen, Eden. I want you to stay on the line with me until somebody gets there, okay? Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine, Milo. Is that Rob I hear?”
The smile in Milo’s voice settled the fluttering nerves in my belly. “Yeah, Rob’s driving. We’ll be there soon.”
“Did he have any thoughts on the shop?
“Yes, he thinks you’re a genius. He’ll work up some plans for joining the rooms and we can take that to Jim.”
“Good,” I murmured, dropping my gaze to the steering wheel. “That’s good. Are you sure I shouldn’t head back toward town? There’s no one here—”
The phone clattered to the floorboards as my door was thrown open. I was too startled to do anything but shriek as an arm reached across my body to unbuckle the seatbelt, then I was yanked out into the cold.
I fell hard onto my hands and knees. The snow did little to cushion my landing against the frozen asphalt, which bit into my palms and tore through my thin tights.
A sharp, cold wind stung the back of my thighs—apparently a jacket wasn’t much protection against a snowstorm when you were wearing a dress underneath it.
“Shit,” I muttered as I sat back on my heels, wiping my stinging palms against my legs.
As soon as I was partially upright, the dark figure slapped me hard across the face. I reeled back, barely catching myself from falling on my ass in the snow, and blinked past the hot sting of tears to finally bring her into focus.
“Watch your whore mouth,” the woman hissed. The resemblance to my sister-in-law was there in the downturned mouth and permanent scowl—this had to be Sandra Billings, though she looked at least ten or fifteen years older than Isaiah’s wife.
I hoped, for my brother’s sake, that her sister had a kinder heart.
Distantly, I heard Milo yelling from my phone, but Sandra slammed my car door and all that was left was eerie silence. Snow coated her hair and clung to her eyelashes, but it did nothing to disguise the fanatical light in her eyes.
She stared down at me like a terrifying angel and recited, “Your task is to single-mindedly serve Christ. Do that and you'll kill two birds with one stone: pleasing the God above you and proving your worth to the people around you.”
“I doubt Christ approves of lighting people on fire,” I muttered, then snapped my mouth shut when she lifted her hand again.
“You’re both sinners. You both have to be purified.”
Now that she wasn’t posing as a harmless shopper, I knew she wouldn’t get the drop on Milo again if she went after him after—well, whatever she was planning now.
Besides, Rob was with him and the police would be here soon.
I’d just try to keep her talking, even if it meant listening to her twisting lines from the Bible for her own purposes.
Then a ball of dread settled in my stomach. “Where’s Eve?”
“Lost.”
My head jerked and I asked, “What do you mean, lost?”
This woman might have taken a few too many things literally regarding purification by fire, but I hoped like hell she meant the kid was lost in a religious sense, not out wandering in the snowstorm.
Sandra started to pace in front of me, shaking her head back and forth. A tiny avalanche of snow tumbled down onto her shoulders with the movement. I didn’t see any weapons on her, but she was wearing a dark, oversized coat that could have hidden a rifle or a baseball bat, for all I knew.
“The girl has lost her way. I tried to keep her on the path. Mary, too. It’s too late for them both. They left me, they left the path.”
“Where is Mary now?” I asked.
Behind her, I saw a faint flash of light against the snow in the distance. Either the storm was about to kick it up a notch into thundersnow or the police were headed our way.
“Sandra, Eve is a good kid. She’s not lost,” I said, climbing slowly to my feet. “Is your sister involved in this with you?”
The woman continued muttering, but she didn’t rush toward me as I rose. My knees ached and a hot trickle of blood burned against my frozen skin as it oozed from the scrapes. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Sandra to check my palms, but I knew from the sting that they were probably shredded, too.
In light of Eve’s arrival during the self-defense seminar, most of Arnaud’s newest lessons from that night had been forced out of my mind.
It was hard to forget the elbow and palm strikes I’d learned in my classes, though.
I was no match for a weapon, and Sandra’s fervor might lend her more strength than I could contend with, but I thought I could hold my own against her until the police arrived.
Assuming they were as close as I hoped, anyway.
“Pastor Baumgartner is worried about you,” I lied. Then again, he seemed like a nice guy, so maybe he was worried about her.
Sandra spun to face me. “He doesn’t know.”
I frowned and asked, “Doesn’t know what?”
“He can’t know,” she replied. “He’d never forgive me.”
“For stealing the car and the collection plate money, you mean? Or for trying to kill Milo?”
An odd cackle of laughter burst from her lips. “None of that matters. None of anything matters now. Once you’re both dead, my penance will be paid.”
“Penance for what?”
“Stop talking!” she shrieked.
I shut my mouth, positioning myself so she wouldn’t see the driveway leading from the street to the warehouse.
My hands and feet were starting to feel like lumps of ice—cute ballet flats might be more comfortable in the shop than heels, but they were worthless in the snow.
My teeth started chattering as the cold worked its way through my limbs.
“You took that store from the Baranskis,” she muttered. “They would have served the Lord. I thought it was only the man corrupting innocent lives, but it was you, too.”
“Milo hasn’t corrupted anyone,” I replied sharply.
“Leads them astray. You’re leading them all astray. I knew when I saw you through the window that I’d have to deliver vengeance on you both.”
Careful not to make any sudden movements, I said, “Did you throw the brick? Who was in the car with you?”
“Shut up!” She swiveled and leveled a finger in my direction, reciting something beneath her breath.
When I spotted two dark shapes coming up the driveway, I forced my gaze back to Sandra and silently debated my options.
I could go on the offensive, try to take her down and hope she didn’t have a weapon hidden under that coat, but I wasn’t confident that would work out in my favor.
I could try to run, but between my aching knees, frozen feet, and flimsy shoes, I suspected I wouldn’t get far.
Keeping her talking no longer seemed like a viable possibility, given how she’d screamed at me a moment ago.
That left waiting for her to make a move—or for the police or Milo to arrive—and preparing to defend myself.
The snow and wind had kicked up enough to obscure my view of the driveway when I tried to subtly glance over her shoulder. Even Sandra was now barely visible just a few feet away from me. In the distance, I heard a rumble that could have been thunder or an engine.
Either way, I braced.
Sandra heard it, too, and she lunged toward me. The momentum almost sent us both to the ground—the topic of Arnaud’s next seminar at Garden of Delights, which was no help to me now—but I managed to keep my feet under me as she wrapped an arm around my throat to position me in front of her.
From out of the white veil before us emerged several figures in dark blue uniforms, guns raised. Sandra’s arm went tight enough to cut off my breath. For a second, I yanked at her coat, trying to drag it away, then Arnaud’s instructions filtered through the fog settling before my eyes.
I let go and jabbed my elbow hard into her stomach, twice in quick succession. As soon as her grip loosened, I grabbed her wrist, spun around to face her, and drove the heel of my hand into the base of her throat.
Unfortunately, when she gagged and staggered backwards into the grasp of a police officer I didn’t recognize, I stepped on a patch of ice and my legs went straight out from under me. I landed hard on my back, the impact forcing all the air from my lungs.
From my place on the pavement, I stared up at the falling snow, blinking a flake out of my eye as I struggled to suck in enough oxygen to fill my lungs again.
A harsh wheeze whistled from my lips, but over it, I heard the sweet sound of Milo’s voice calling my name, layered with an officer reciting Sandra Billings’ rights as he placed her under arrest.
Milo was safe. I closed my eyes and let the sweet relief of that knowledge seep through my frozen limbs.
It was finally over.