Avery didn’t have any nightmares after falling asleep in Nick’s arms.
Something else jolted her awake. It wasn’t a sound, or a movement. It was a feeling of foreboding, of words unspoken. She hadn’t told Nick about her meeting with Grace—who had threatened to rat her out to Jeremiah as soon as he returned from his trip.
Intuition told her that Grace was bluffing, but Avery still had to warn Nick. Because intuition also told her that their covers were crumbling. Jonah’s suspicions were aroused, and he was an intelligent adversary. He’d accused them both of lying on separate occasions. If he caught Nick sneaking around tonight, he wouldn’t believe another excuse.
She sat up in bed, aware that he was no longer next to her. She didn’t have to reach out to make sure. The space wasn’t big enough for him to be there without touching her. She didn’t have to say his name to know he wasn’t in the cabin, either. She felt his absence as acutely as she’d felt him inside her.
Throwing off the blankets, she scrambled to her feet. Moonlight coming through the window in the main room illuminated her discarded clothes. She dressed quickly, her heart racing, and emerged from the cabin. The moon was high in the sky, bright and bisected with billowy clouds. She covered her head and shoulders with the gray shawl. As she hurried down the path, she realized that she didn’t know where to look for him.
The fields seemed like a good place to start. He’d told her that he’d found a way out, and he’d been spending most of his time there. Also, he’d told Jonah that he’d gone to check the water pump last night. He’d probably engineered the lie to match the route he’d taken.
She headed that direction, her steps swift but silent. Her drowsiness wore off and anger set in. They were supposed to be partners. Instead of communicating his plans with her, he’d left her in the dark again—after screwing her senseless.
She smothered a gasp as a terrible thought occurred to her. He was a man who used sex to avoid feelings. To circumvent difficult conversations. To escape.
He’d done that with her. He’d done that to her.
He hadn’t wanted her to accompany him or ask him any pointed questions about his nefarious activities, so he’d taken her to bed. The fact that she’d invited him to touch her didn’t matter as much as his motivations for doing so. He’d spurned her advances the night before, and nothing had changed between them. Nothing except the fact that she’d caught him sneaking out, and could expect him to make another attempt.
“That bastard,” she whispered.
She was in love with him, and he’d slept with her to get away.
Pushing that thought from her mind, she continued toward the fields with urgency. She was going to slap his face off when she found him. As she neared the cemetery, she heard the sound of voices carrying on the wind. She looked over her shoulder and her stomach dropped. There was a trio of figures carrying torches, like an old-fashioned witch hunt.
She was the witch. Or Nick was the monster. Either way, they were closing in. She picked up her skirts and ran into cemetery. It was a poor choice of hiding place, because there weren’t many trees, and most of the grave markers were modestly sized.
She ducked behind the largest headstone she could find. Pressing her back to the granite, she tucked her knees to her chest and prayed. Please don’t let them find her. Please don’t let them find Nick.
As she cowered there, shivering with fear, she became aware of the grave markers directly in front of her. Even without her glasses, but she could read the epitaphs at this distance. Three names were carved into three simple headstones in a neat row, sized from largest to smallest:
Sarah.
Hannah.
Baby Girl.
Avery clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. She was staring at her own grave! It sat between her mother’s, and her sister’s. Tears filled her eyes, but she was too scared and confused to process her sadness. Instead, she considered the implications of what she was seeing. She’d already assumed that they’d buried an empty coffin in her place. She could infer that they’d done the same thing for “Baby Girl.”
Something felt wrong with that theory, however. The headstone for Hannah made sense, because she’d run away. Father Jeff and the elders couldn’t allow word to spread about a girl who’d made a successful escape. Why would anyone go to the trouble to carve a headstone for a baby who had lived? If the midwife had raised Grace as her own child, there was no need for fudging records or faking grave sites. The members of The Haven remembered Sarah and her pregnancy. They wouldn’t be fooled.
You’ll do what I say, and that’s final.
Nick’s command had bothered her then, and it haunted her now. Yes, he could be arrogant and implacable, but the domineering words had still seemed out of character. He really hadn’t wanted her to visit the graveyard. He’d known these grave markers were here, and he’d been afraid she would see them.
Because it wasn’t an elaborate cover-up.
It was the truth, staring her in the face.
Grace wasn’t her sister. Avery’s baby sister had died with their mother. And Nick, damn his beautiful eyes, had lied.
The pain of this betrayal cut so deep, she felt like she’d been sucker punched. She curled up on her side and clutched her stomach. He’d brought her a photo of Grace, and claimed it had been genetically matched to her. What a fool she’d been to fall for that. The technology probably didn’t even exist. She couldn’t believe the lengths he’d gone to—and the levels he’d stooped to—in pursuit of vengeance. She supposed she should have guessed, but the magnitude of his deception rocked her to the core.
Maybe everything he’d said was a lie. Every word he’d spoken in bed, every tender caress. Every story he’d told about his childhood. She was so wrapped up in her own misery that she almost didn’t care that her pursuers were closing in. There was nowhere else to hide, regardless. They must have spotted her running through the graveyard. Now they were searching the area methodically, torches blazing.
When they reached her, she rose to her feet.
It was Jonah, Brother Sage and Imogen.
“I told you,” Imogen said, triumphant. “She’s at her own grave.”
Jonah glanced from the headstone to Avery’s face. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ellen,” she said. “Ellen Dean.”
Jonah lifted his torch higher. “Where’s Brother Nick?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you come out here looking for him?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you hide?” Imogen asked.
Avery didn’t answer. She couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse, and what did it matter? Imogen had put two and two together. It was over. She’d been recognized.
“Let’s go,” Jonah said, grasping her arm.
Avery went without a struggle, her mind numb. She wondered what they’d do with her. Maybe Jonah would take her to the rectory and interrogate her until she broke. They walked back to the road in silence.
“We should keep looking for him,” Sage said, his eyes narrow.
Jonah shook his head. “Jeremiah will find him.”
“I want to find him now. The fields are close.”
“Wounded pride makes you reckless,” Jonah replied. “It’s a job better suited to my brother’s strengths.”
Avery realized that Sage still thought Nick had corrupted his sweet Nadine. She could also guess why Jonah didn’t want to go after Nick. It was Jonah’s mess, because he’d invited the Deans to the commune, but he’d let Jeremiah do the dirty work.
“We’re unarmed,” Jonah said.
“So is he.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re afraid of him,” Avery said to Jonah.
Jonah’s response was swift and cruel. He released Avery’s arm and backhanded her across the face. The impact knocked her off balance. She fell to her knees, holding her cheek. Blood trickled from her lips.
Imogen appeared stunned by his actions. She stared at Avery with wide eyes.
“If I did that to Nadine, you’d punish me,” Brother Sage said to Jonah.
“Nadine isn’t an outsider spy!”
Imogen helped Avery to her feet again. This basic kindness seemed to enrage Jonah. He regained his hold on Avery’s arm and started dragging her toward the commune. Imogen fell in line with Jonah, but Sage didn’t. He must have stayed behind to look for Nick, disobeying Jonah’s orders.
Avery’s brain was rattled from the blow. The inside of her cheek felt swollen and raw. She wiped the blood from her mouth with a trembling hand. Jonah yanked her arm, causing her to stumble. Any misconceptions she’d had about him being a decent person were gone. He was no better than his father. No better than his brother. Just another power-hungry leader with a violent temper and a God complex.
He didn’t haul her into the church rectory, or the health office. He headed past the schoolyard, to the setting of her worst nightmare.
The storm cellar.
“Open it,” he said to Imogen.
She flipped the hasp and wrenched the heavy door aside. Jonah pushed Avery down the steps, into the dark abyss. When Imogen tried to follow them, he shook his head, denying her access to the interrogation.
“Leave us.”
Imogen’s face crumpled with emotion. Despite Jonah’s flaws, she was devoted to him. The sight of him doing violence to another woman didn’t sit well with her. Avery imagined he planned to do more as soon as they were alone. Imogen must have suspected the same thing, but she didn’t voice an objection. She closed the door quietly.
* * *
Nick was immersed in digging when he heard an ominous sound.
Golf cart.
He glanced up from the grave, where he stood knee-deep. He’d chosen this site because it looked the most recent, with loose-packed dirt. He’d just unearthed the heel of a boot, which indicated the body was facedown. That was consistent with foul play, not a proper burial. The overwhelming stench of decomposing flesh emanated from the dark soil. He’d bet his badge that this man was Brother Caleb. If the poor bastard had his hands tied behind his back, execution-style, or a visible gunshot wound, Nick could call in his team.
First he had to survive the night, however. The grave wasn’t deep enough to hide in, so he tossed the shovel and dived behind the nearest tree. The golf cart didn’t zip past and keep going. It stopped in the middle of the road, idling nearby.
That was unlucky.
Even unluckier, someone in the cart had a flashlight. Its beam penetrated the forest and zeroed in on the grave site. The business end of the shovel glinted in the dark.
Damn.
Nick realized they knew he was here. They were looking for him. He considered running, but he figured the motion would be noticed, his steps heard. It would be a footrace. Could he outrun the driver, who knew this terrain and probably had a shotgun?
Nick didn’t run.
He climbed.
The tree he’d ducked behind had a sturdy trunk, but it wasn’t easy to climb. He grasped the nearest branch and hauled himself up anyway, adrenaline giving him a much-needed boost of energy. He went hand over hand, limb over limb, until he was high enough to hide among the thicker branches. Then he stayed very still, because two men had entered the space below him. He glanced down, his pulse pounding.
Jeremiah was there with one of the guards. They searched the immediate area for a few minutes and returned to the grave.
“He was here,” the guard said. “We just missed him.”
“Doesn’t matter. He won’t get far.”
“What if he went back?”
“Why would he do that?”
“For his wife.”
“It’s not his wife, stupid.”
The next exchange was intelligible. Then Jeremiah said, “Stay here and keep digging. We’ve got to move the body now.”
Nick waited for Jeremiah to walk away. Then he opened the face of his watch and pressed the emergency button. It was over. His cover was broken, and Avery was in danger. He shouldn’t have left her alone.
He thought she’d be safer in the cabin. She would have been, if he’d been there with her. He’d been so intent on collecting evidence that he’d disregarded the risks. He’d wanted to get the photos and get out, with Avery. He’d imagined them leaving the commune together before dawn. He’d meant to stay one step ahead of these bastards. Somehow he’d fallen behind, and he’d completely failed to protect her.
Nick watched from above as the guard started digging. He figured he had only a few minutes before a second man showed up to help. Moving a body was hard work. Nick had to sneak away now. He’d like to tackle the guard, beat him unconscious and finish documenting the evidence. A week ago, he might have made that choice. His quest for justice had outweighed everything else, including professional ethics.
Over the past few days, his priorities had changed. Now all that mattered to him was saving Avery.
He descended the tree with quiet stealth and crept away from the grave site. If the guard had spotted him, Nick would have attacked. He still had the pruning hook tucked in his boot. Lucky for the guard, he didn’t look up from his task. Nick continued walking until he was at a safe distance. He checked the cell phone, which had no service. He tried to send a text and failed. Instead of chucking it into the woods in frustration, he put it in his pocket.
His best option was to head to the main road and wait for backup. He could search for a better reception area and try the phone again. His team was already mobilizing. They might not bring in air support in the middle of the night, but they’d get here as soon as possible. By daybreak, at the latest.
He checked his watch. It was 2:00 a.m.
He couldn’t wait four hours to rescue Avery. There were a lot of unspeakable things that could happen to her in that time frame. The odds were stacked against him, however. He had to face a militia of armed guards. He didn’t have the element of surprise. He had a garden tool, an unusable phone, his fists and his wits.
Nick considered the most likely scenario, that he’d get captured immediately and tortured alongside her. It didn’t dissuade him. If he died trying to save her, so be it. At least he could keep his promise to protect her with his life.
Decision made, he headed toward the commune. He managed to avoid the guards, who were out in greater numbers, combing the woods. They were untrained boys, for the most part, unfamiliar with their weapons and ill-prepared for combat. Nick didn’t want to hurt them. He still wanted to hurt Father Jeff and Jeremiah, and he wouldn’t mind taking a crack at Jonah while he was at it. The rest were innocent bystanders.
He reached the area with the camouflage netting that he’d discovered yesterday. It seemed like a week had passed since then. Underneath the camouflage was a crop of maturing marijuana plants. The pot was an interesting discovery, but not the smoking gun he’d hoped for. Nick figured the plants were Jeremiah’s, which explained his touchy attitude about Nick poking around the fields. The crop might be a side hustle he didn’t want Father Jeff or Jonah in on. Maybe Jeremiah exchanged drugs for guns. Either way, the number of plants exceeded the legal limit and could be added to his list of crimes.
Nick was more interested in murders than marijuana, naturally. A few dead bodies were enough to bring the law down on this ungodly place.
He used the rope to climb the overhanging branch by the fence line. He’d tied several knots in it to use as handholds. His muscles ached from working, digging and that final round in bed with Avery. He’d overdone it, but no regrets.
He’d meant what he’d said in Jonah’s office. He’d die to touch her again, and no other woman compared to her.
He brought the rope with him with the intention of stashing it in the equipment shed like he’d done the previous night. As he approached the shed, the hairs at the nape of his neck pricked with awareness. It was too quiet, too deserted. They were supposed to be looking for him. Even if they assumed he’d went for the road, instead of returning to the commune, Nick had expected more vigilance.
He decided to leave the coil of rope by the side of the road. He knelt to hide his cell phone in a notch of a fencepost before continuing down the path. He gave the shed a wide berth, all of his senses on high alert. No one jumped out to ambush him. The scent of burning wood carried on the wind, along with the acrid odor of male sweat.
A stranger’s sweat.
The crunch of gravel indicated a presence at Nick’s back. Someone had been lurking behind the shed, not hiding inside it. The man had moved around the perimeter to escape detection as Nick passed by.
Nick couldn’t believe it. He’d let an amateur sneak up on him.
He whirled around to see a dark figure wielding a wooden club. It was Brother Sage, and he swung his weapon with the fury of a man scorned. The club connected with Nick’s temple. Nick staggered to the ground, his head exploding. He watched the stars bleed across the sky. Then utter darkness.