Patricia Patterson sat up straighter as the door opened. ‘I wondered when you would come. Is it time?’
‘Not yet, Pat.’
‘But it will be soon?’
There was no answer. They both knew none was needed.
‘I would never say anything. I’d always keep my mouth shut. I have so far, haven’t I? Cherie doesn’t even know.’
‘They found the backpack.’
‘I told you not to put it there. Somebody was always going to find it. Some druggie or some nosey kids.’
‘You broke the rules, Pat.’
‘What rule did I break?’
‘You left us. It’s not allowed.’
‘But I spoke with Matthew, he said I could go.’
‘He changed his mind. Or should I say Leviticus guided him. “Lay his hand on the head of his offering, and kill it in front of the tent of meeting; and Aaron’s sons shall throw its blood against the sides of the altar.”’
The words sent a chill through Patricia Patterson. She knew this was going to happen, but to hear it stated so bluntly terrified her.
‘But… but I kept my word. I didn’t tell anybody.’
‘It’s too late, it has been decided. The Sons of Aaron have decided.’
The door slammed shut, leaving Patricia alone.
What had she done to deserve this?
Unfortunately, she knew.