Desperate Rescue. Barbara Phinney
“I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He dusted off his pants, tugging free a dried bramble twig as he did so. “Okay, we’ll do the outbuildings first. I wonder what they’re for.”
“The men sleep in one and wash up in the other. Only the married men were allowed to sleep in the house and only one man was married. Noah had strict rules about those sorts of thing. I don’t know why, but I was glad.”
“Perhaps abstinence was part of the starvation routine he used to wield his control.”
Good point. She hadn’t considered that, but it made sense.
Eli led her across the lawn to the front of the buildings. “Where does Noah sleep?”
“I don’t know. He never slept when I was awake. He was always the first up and the last to bed.”
“He always was a night owl.”
She watched as Eli searched the men’s building. It was much newer than the old farmhouse. Occasionally, she’d wondered what had been its original purpose. But she’d never heard the men complain about it. It must have been well insulated.
Finally, Eli came out. Without looking at her, he walked into the other one and within a minute, came out again.
The disappointment showed clearly on his face. The buildings were empty.
She felt her own heart sink and yet at the same time, relief sluiced through her.
Eli walked up to her. “There’s no one in either building. The beds are made, everything is reasonably neat and tidy, like they just left it.” He turned to the house.
“I don’t want to go in,” she blurted out. “Not into the house.”
Eli blinked, his mouth softening from that tight line she’d seen before to something sympathetic. He reached out and took her hand. His fingers warmed hers.
“I know. But I have to find Phoebe. This is my life, Kaylee. And my parents need answers.” After a moment of holding her hand, he dropped it. “I’ll be back.”
The wind slid across her face like strips of cold, wet cotton, the kind she’d used to wipe the dishes in The Farm when it had been her turn. Ahead, Eli stepped upon the rotting porch. She could hear it groan under his weight and the sound brought back a vivid memory. The day those who remained ate spring greens while the rest went grocery shopping. The woman who’d picked and steamed them had lifted her head sharply at the sound of those front boards relenting to Noah’s weight.
Kaylee could still remember the look of apprehension on the two starving children who were still finishing their greens. When the door creaked open, the children gobbled up the rest on their plates and hurried to the sink. They dumped them in there and dashed out the back door.
“It’s open,” Eli said, breaking into her difficult memory. He pushed on the front door, then still outside, threw her his own version of that fearful expression.
Her heart squeezed. He didn’t want to go in and find the cult dead, murdered by his brother or, just as bad, all having taken their own lives.
She pushed aside the terrible worry. This wasn’t fair to Eli.
“Eli?”
Just inside the door, he turned.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go in. Maybe we could call someone to search this place for you.”
He frowned. “Like who? The police?”
She cringed. He knew her history, probably from the diligent investigator he’d hired. He knew she wouldn’t want to deal with the police here ever again.
He shook his head. “Like I said, this is something I have to do.”
Then, with gritted teeth, he walked inside.
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