“Why kill them?” she whispered. “Grace was only thirteen—just a girl. Why?” “They do whatever he wants.” “Whatever who wants?” “Jeremiah. The Prophet.” On the boy’s lips, the name sounded more like a curse than a name. “The man in the painting,” she said. “And he shall gather the righteous. And lead them all to hell.” He shoved the fur-trimmed hood off his head, and she could see his profile in the gloom, his jaw squared in anger. “Whose houses were those?” she asked. “Who lived in Kingdom Come?” “My mother. My sister.” His voice broke and he lowered his head in mourning for a village that was now engulfed in flames. “The chosen ones.”
CLOAKED BY A VEIL OF FALLING SNOW, THE ARMY STOOD ASSEMBLED. Jane stamped her feet, trying to stay warm, but already her toes had gone numb and even the scalding cup of coffee she’d just gulped down could not ward off the bitter chill of that Idaho dawn. If she were a member of the strike team, the cold would not matter to her, because adrenaline made you immune to discomforts as minor as subzero temperatures. But on this morning, relegated to the status of mere observer and forced to stand idly by, she felt the chill gnaw deep into her bones. Cathy, standing beside her, seemed not to care at all about the weather. The woman was utterly still, her face heedlessly exposed to the wind. Jane heard the rising pitch in the voices around her, could feel the tension in the air, and she knew that action was imminent. Pasternak came striding back from the huddle of command officers. He was carrying a two-way radio. “We’re ready to move, as soon as they pull the gate down.” He handed Jane the radio. “You stay with Cathy. We’ll need her advice once we get in there, and you’re her escort. So keep her safe.” As Jane clipped it to her belt, an alert came over the speaker.
“We have activity inside the compound. Looks like two men approaching.” Through the falling snow, Jane saw the figures walking closer, identically dressed in long black coats. They moved without hesitation, striding directly toward the lawmen. To Jane’s surprise, one of the men produced a set of keys and unlocked the gate. The law enforcement team leader stepped forward. “I’m Lieutenant MacAfee, Idaho State Police. We have a warrant to search the compound.” “There’s no need for a warrant,” the man with the keys answered. “You are welcome to enter. All of you.” He swung the gate wide open. MacAfee glanced at the other officers, clearly taken aback by the welcome. The greeter beckoned the visitors forward.
“We’ve gathered in the assembly hall, where there’s room for everyone. We ask only that you keep your weapons holstered, for the safety of our women and children.” He opened his arms wide, as though inviting in the whole world. “Please join us. You’ll see that we have nothing to hide.” “They knew,” Cathy muttered. “Goddamn it, they knew we were coming. They’re prepared for this.” “How did they get word of it?” Jane asked. “He can buy anything. Eyes, ears. A cop here, a politician there.” She looked at Jane. “You see what the problem is? You see why he’ll never have to face justice?” “No man’s untouchable, Cathy.” “He is. He always has been.” Cathy’s gaze returned to the open gate. The law enforcement team had already walked into the compound, their figures fading beyond the falling snow. Over the radio, Jane listened in on the chatter. Heard calm voices, matter-of-fact responses. “First building checked and clear …” “All clear in number three.” Cathy shook her head. “He’ll outsmart them this time as well,” she said. “They don’t know what to look for. They can’t see what’s right in front of their goddamn eyes.” “No weapons. All clear …” Cathy stared at the distant figures, now receding to little more than ghostly shapes. Without a word, she, too, walked through the open gate. Jane followed her. They moved between rows of buildings that stood silent and dark, following in the boot prints of the police team. Ahead, Jane saw candlelight glowing warmly in the assembly hall windows, and she heard music, the sound of many voices raised in song. It was a sweet and ethereal hymn that soared heavenward on notes sung by children. The scent of wood smoke, the promise of warmth and fellowship, beckoned them toward the building. They stepped through the door, into the assembly hall. Inside, a multitude of candles lit the soaring space. A congregation of hundreds filled gleaming wood pews. On one side of the aisle sat the women and girls in a sea of pastel dresses. On the other side were the men and boys, clad in white shirts and dark trousers. A dozen law enforcement officers had gathered at the rear of the hall, where they stood looking about uneasily, uncertain how to proceed in what was clearly a house of worship. The hymn came to an end, and the final, thrilling notes faded. In the silence, a dark-haired man emerged onto the stage and calmly surveyed his congregation. He wore no priestly robes, no embroidered shawl, no ornaments that set him apart as different or special. Instead he stood before them garbed in the same clothes as his followers, but the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to the elbows, as though in preparation for a day’s labors. He needed no costume, no eye-catching glitter to hold the crowd’s attention. His gaze alone, so intense it seemed radioactive, riveted every pair of eyes in the hall. So this is Jeremiah Goode, thought Jane. Though his hair was shot through with silver, it still looked like a young man’s mane, thick and leonine, falling almost to his shoulders. On this gloomy winter’s day, his presence seemed to give off as warm a glow as the flames leaping in the hall’s enormous stone hearth. In silence, he surveyed the audience, and his gaze finally settled on the police officers standing at the rear of the hall. “Dear friends, let us all rise to welcome our visitors,” he said. As if they were a single organism, the congregation rose in unison and turned to look at the strangers. “Welcome” came the chorus of greeting. Every face looked scrubbed and pink-cheeked, every gaze wide-eyed with innocence. Wholesome and healthy was the picture here, the portrait of a contented community united in purpose. Again, in unison, they all sat down. It was an eerily choreographed movement that set off a simultaneous creak of benches.
Lieutenant MacAfee called out: “Jeremiah Goode?” The man onstage gave a solemn nod. “I am Jeremiah.” “I’m Lieutenant David MacAfee, Idaho State Police. Would you come with us, sir?” “May I ask why this show of force is necessary? Especially now, in our hour of distress?” “Distress, Mr. Goode?” “That is why you’re here, isn’t it? Because of the atrocities committed against our poor brethren in Kingdom Come?” Somberly, Jeremiah looked around at his congregation. “Yes, friends, we know, don’t we? Word came to us yesterday, the terrible news of what was done to our followers. All because of who they were, and what they believed.” In the audience, there were nods and murmurs of sad agreement. “Mr. Goode,” said MacAfee, “I’m asking you again to come with us.” “Why?” “To answer a few questions.” “Then ask them here and now, so that all may listen.” Jeremiah held out his arms in an extravagant gesture toward his followers. This was grand theater, and he was center stage, with the hall’s arches soaring above him, and the light from the windows beaming down on his face. “I keep no secrets from this congregation.” “This isn’t a matter for a public forum,” said MacAfee. “This is a criminal investigation.” “You think I don’t understand that?” Jeremiah stared at him with a gaze that seemed to sear the air. “Our followers were murdered in that valley. Executed like sheep, and their bodies left to be torn and devoured by wild animals!” “Is that what you heard?” “Is it not the truth? That forty-one good people, including women and children, were martyred because of what they believed? And now you come here, invited through our gates. You men with your guns and your disdain for those who don’t believe what you do.” MacAfee shifted uneasily. In the warmth of the hall, beads of sweat gleamed on his forehead. “I’ll ask this one more time, Mr. Goode. Either you come with us willingly, or we’ll be forced to arrest you.” “I am willing! Didn’t I just say I would answer your questions? But ask them now, where these good people can hear you. Or are you afraid of the whole world learning the truth?” He looked around at his followers.
“My friends, you are my protection. I call on you to bear witness.” A man in the congregation rose to his feet and called out: “What are the police afraid of? Ask your questions so we can hear, too!” The crowd joined in. “Yes, ask now!” “Ask him here!” Benches creaked as the crowd grew agitated, as other men stood. The police officers glanced nervously around the room. “Then you refuse to cooperate?” MacAfee said. “I am cooperating. But if you’re here to ask about Kingdom Come, I can’t help you.” “You call this cooperation?” “I have no answers for you. Because I wasn’t witness to what happened.” “When were you last in Kingdom Come?” “It was October. When I left them, they were thriving. Well provisioned for winter. Already digging the foundations for six more houses. That was the last time I laid eyes on the valley.” He looked to his congregation for support. “Am I telling the truth? Is there anyone here who would contradict me?” Dozens of voices took up his defense. “The Prophet doesn’t lie!” Jeremiah looked at MacAfee. “I think you have your answer, Lieutenant.” “Not by a long shot,” MacAfee snapped. “Do you see, my friends?” Jeremiah said, gazing around at his followers. “How they profane God’s house with their army and their weapons?” He shook his head in pity. “This spectacle of force is a tactic of small men.” He smiled at MacAfee.
“Has it worked for you, Lieutenant? Do you feel larger now?” This taunt was more than MacAfee could endure, and his spine stiffened at the challenge. “Jeremiah Goode, you are under arrest. And all these children are now in protective custody. They are to be escorted off this property, where buses are waiting for them.” A startled cry rose from the women, followed by a chorus of wails and sobs. The entire congregation surged to its feet in protest. In a matter of mere seconds, MacAfee had lost control of the room, and Jane saw officers’ hands drop to their weapons. Instinctively, she reached for her own as the fury swelled, as violence seemed just one spark away. “My friends! My friends!” Jeremiah called out. “Please, let us have peace.” He raised his arms and the room instantly hushed. “The world will know the truth soon enough,” he proclaimed. “They’ll see that we conducted ourselves with dignity and compassion. That when confronted by the brutal face of authority, we responded with grace and humility.” He released a deep and mournful sigh. “My friends, we have no choice but to obey. And I have no choice but to submit to their will. I ask only that you remember what you witnessed here today. The injustice, the cruelty of families wrenched apart.” He gazed upward, as though speaking directly to the heavens. Only then did Jane notice the congregant in the upper balcony, filming the entire speech. This is all on camera. The videotaped martyrdom of Jeremiah Goode. Once that footage was disseminated to the media, the whole world would know of this outrage against a peaceful community. “Remember, friends!” commanded Jeremiah. “Remember!” the congregation responded in unison. He descended the steps from the stage and walked calmly toward the waiting police officers. As he moved up the aisle, past his stunned followers, the sound of weeping filled the hall. Yet Jeremiah’s expression was not mournful; what Jane saw on his face was triumph. He had planned and orchestrated this confrontation, a scene that would be played and replayed on TVs across the country. The humble prophet walking with quiet dignity toward his tormentors. He’s won this round, she thought. Maybe he’s even won the war itself. How would a jury convict him when he was the one who looked like a victim? He came to a stop in front of MacAfee and raised his hands, meekly offering up his wrists to be cuffed. The symbolism could not be more blatant. MacAfee obliged, and the clack of the metal was shockingly loud. “Will you exterminate us all?” Jeremiah asked. “Give it a rest,” MacAfee retorted. “You know very well I had nothing to do with what happened in Kingdom Come.”
“That’s what we’ll find out.” “Will you? I don’t think you want the truth. Because you’ve already chosen your villain.” Head held high, Jeremiah walked the gantlet of police officers. But as he neared the exit, he suddenly halted, his gaze riveted on Cathy Weiss. Slowly his lips curved into a smile of recognition. “Katie Sheldon,” he said softly. “You’ve come back to us.” Jane frowned at Cathy, whose face had gone frighteningly pale. “But you told me Katie Sheldon was your friend,” Jane said. Cathy didn’t seem to hear Jane, but kept her gaze on Jeremiah. “This time it ends,” Cathy said softly. “Ends?” He shook his head. “No, Katie, this only makes us stronger. In the eyes of the public, I’m a martyr.” He regarded her windblown hair, her haggard face, and the look he gave her was almost pitying. “I see the world has not been kind to you. What a shame you ever left us.” He smiled as he turned to leave. “But we must all move on.” “Jeremiah!” Cathy suddenly stepped behind him, her arms thrust out in front of her. Only then did Jane see what she was clutching in both hands. “Cathy, no!” yelled Jane. In an instant she had her own weapon out. “Drop it. Drop the gun, Cathy!” Jeremiah turned and calmly regarded the weapon that was now pointed at his chest. If he felt any fear at all, he did not show it. Through the pounding of her own heart, Jane heard gasps in the pews and frantic footsteps as the congregation scrambled for cover. She had no doubt that a dozen police weapons were now drawn and pointed as well. But Jane’s gaze stayed glued on Cathy. On the raw, wind-chapped hands now clutching the gun. Though any cop in that room could have fired on her, no one did. They all stood paralyzed by the prospect of taking down this young woman. We never imagined she’d be armed. Why would we? “Cathy, please,” Jane said quietly. She was standing closest to the woman. Almost close enough to reach out and take the gun, if only Cathy would hand it to her. “This doesn’t solve anything.” “But it does. This ends it.” “That’s what the courts are for.” “The courts?” Cathy’s laugh was bitter. “They won’t touch him. They never have.” Her grip tightened, and the barrel tilted higher, yet Jeremiah did not flinch. His gaze remained serene, almost amused. “You see, my friends?” he called out. “This is what we face. Irrational anger and hatred.” He gave a sad shake of the head and looked at Cathy. “I think it’s clear to everyone here that you need help, Katie. I feel only love for you. That’s all I’ve ever felt.” Once again, he turned to leave. “Love?” Cathy whispered. “Love?” Jane saw the tendons in Cathy’s wrist snap taut. Saw the woman’s fingers tighten, yet her own reflexes refused to kick in. Her hands froze around her weapon. The blast of Cathy’s gun sent a bullet flying...
~~~
There are so many ways writers and movie producers bring the ongoing battle between good and evil, but those that I have always been drawn to are those that balance joy, love and happiness on one side while the villain gets his justice... Tess Gerritsen and those involved with bringing her books to the screen with the series, Rizzoli & Isles, became one of those that I have chosen to enjoy often, mostly on television. So I was happy to have found this latest book which will have a follow up book with one of the same characters next...
I promise I did not know what this book was about! Yet, once again, an author writes about men of power who use their charisma, power...and...religion... to entice and retain a following... It's happened before. Still, I can't quite figure out exactly how, when sexuality becomes part of that situation, that, still, the followers stay...
Given the full-blown exposure and cries for information about Epstein and his ten-year friend, there are many seeking answers--True Answers... You know, folks, sometimes I find that fiction has become more...than...fiction... Are we seeking the answers of logic, compassion, love and friendship through books. Things that we can no longer depend upon in reality? I'm still pondering that within me. What I do know and have accepted, I do want good to win over evil. And if I can only find it in fiction, at least for now, then I'll continue to love and read writers like Tess Gerritsen! J.D.Robb! And all the others who I hashtag, mystery, thriller, romantic suspense, etc...
In this book Isles is the main character--Really! Jane is there toward the end, but so much happens before then, that we learn an entirely new side of Maura. Jane is now married! Yes! Never thought that would happen... and Maura is in a serious relationship about which both she and her lover are constantly happy and unhappy. So, after a difficult struggle of deciding on the future, Maura thankfully prepares and leaves for a medical conference...
So routine, that nothing is written about it. LOL Except that she reconnects with another doctor who she had earlier met at a conference and ultimately she joins a foursome to travel for a bit of relaxation...
Except they never got to wherever they were headed. They got lost and in trying to return, their vehicle slid off the road--a private road which was posted no trespassing... which led to "Kingdom Come..."
When you're in danger, all rules are useless, and so they all packed up what they could and headed down that road into a small community of homes, which all looked the same, and which were all...empty... They had moved into the closest house and looked around. They found tables set with food on plates, as if they had just fled... evidence that somebody had been dragged... There was no explanation, no notes... But all of the garages had vehicles stored in them, ready to go...
They chose a jeep, first, to try to get up the sleek road, but not able to get traction, they began to push... And, one of the men, Arlo, got caught by his leg... They managed to get him back to the cabin. But everybody knew they needed to get Arlo to a doctor. Doug chose to attempt to walk out... He never returned...
In the meantime, Maura was designated to care for Arlo and she knew there was only one option to ensure he wouldn't die--amputate the leg... They had gone through all of the homes, gathered up as many medications as they could find and started Arlo on the strongest available... The wait was interminable, because, of course, they didn't know that Doug would not be coming back...
But then, strange things started to happen. A Face seen at a window... Animal noises? Arlo started to hallucinate, or was he, seeing people coming in to stare at him...
In desperation, Maura decided that she was the only one that could try a second time to get out. Arlo still needed care, so his friend would have to stay. The only other survivor was Doug's daughter who was too young to not remain sheltered... Maura started out and soon began to see tracks of Doug so she started following them.... Until somebody knocked her out, only to have her awaken and being dragged away...
As the book goes on and more people learned that there was a lost group of vacationers out on the hills, bits and pieces began to be shared... The community was headed by a man who was a religious leader who invited in all those who wished to join them... But then another explained that soon younger boys were kicked out and arrived in the nearby town seeking help and food... But one of those young boys was the one who pulled Maura to safety... It was then she learned that he had been forced out, because the "prophet" and older men wanted no competition from the males who had arrived... His mother agreed to have him turned away... And it was his sister who had last been chosen by the Prophet...
While many of us will automatically think of the Epstein case where teen females were molested by older men... But, it is the addition of a strongman, a man of authority, that places the emphasis exactly where it is right now. Was it not the evangelical group that supported the first election of the president. Yet knowing that the man was himself a criminal and more... And that's where the merge of reality and fiction comes directly into the light... How can we, at this time in the United States, differentiate truth from fiction... good from evil... Daily being bombarded by violence coming from all sides--real violence against people living in this state or that, invaded by men with guns and masks who grab people--men, women, and children...off the streets, who often disappearing thereafter...
It's wonderful to become immersed in a story where we know that Jane and others will be coming to save Maura and others from evil... I need to have this type of ending, knowing that the rule of law is acting as it should, that the police, FBI and others will work to ensure that, especially the children, will be removed from the presence of such evil...
But now we are seeing that evil members are martyred by their followers...and you learn to ignore that even though the book ends with the good guys winning, there is a deep frustration, knowing that reality has become worse than anything we could ever read...
Only hope that the power of Love will survive moves us forward...
I work to choose how and when to share information... This particular book is scary... While it doesn't have a halloween theme, I wanted to kick off the month of scary stuff with this fantastic writer... More will follow... Yes, I know the background of this particular holiday. I also know that Santa has nothing to do with the Reason for the Season... Sometimes we live in a fantasy world, just for the fun of it. I believe that the world has come very far over the last 2000+ years... And, contrary to what is being attempted by the present administration, you just cannot lie and wash away the knowledge and information that has been brought forward... It's fun to dress up for kids. Personally I see no harm in doing so as long as we spend time talking about reality versus fiction to all. I grew up with Count Dracula, zombies and more, just like we have today... It never entered my mind to believe that anything I was doing was evil... Because I was not taught that there was evil in dressing up...
Keep it simple and when it arises, have a serious talk when it is appropriate to do so... Let me know if you disagree... Because I have a lot of books provided through Book Funnel coming... I strive to expose readers to all of the options that we have in life. Only YOU can choose what seems right for you...at...that... time! As long as you keep your mind active and open, you will begin to learn, to differentiate, and, also, discern what God has chosen for your personal path.
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