White Heat. Brenda Novak
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“So what law has Ethan broken?”
Nate’s broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “That’s the reason for this assignment—to find out.”
She’d already assumed as much. But she wasn’t comfortable with the religious element. Her background dealing with religious zealots had taught her there was no way to win, no way to argue any doctrine logically because people like her father always referred to the illogical to back up their beliefs.
“Do you think I have the experience for this?” she asked. Before coming to Department 6, she’d worked undercover for the LAPD, pretending to be a prostitute, as well as helping in some drug busts. Since hiring on at Department 6, she’d continued with drug enforcement, generally contract labor for the DEA. Bottom line, she’d specialized in something that was more straightforward, easier to fight. And she liked it that way.
“You have as much experience with this type of thing as anyone else at Department 6,” he said.
That was probably true. They all did more drug work than anything else. “There must be something besides his affiliation with Manson that’s brought this man to our attention,” she said. “I’m guessing there are a lot of whack jobs who’ve contacted Manson over the years.”
“A woman by the name of Martha Wilson recently escaped from the commune,” Nate explained.
Now they were talking. “Another interesting word choice, seeing that escaped has the connotation of being held against her will.”
“Her word,” he said. “She claimed Wycliff punished her for sleeping with her own husband.”
“I thought sex was dealt with in a more liberal fashion in this commune.”
“It is. But she was on ‘restriction.’”
Because it was beyond awkward to talk about sex with Nate after what had occurred between them, Rachel tried to cover her anxiety by toying with the edge of the file in front of her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Otherwise, sex is open to anyone, married or unmarried, as long as both people are consenting and of age.”
“Now I see why Ethan’s attracting converts. Religious endorsement of drugs and sex. No willpower required. What’s not to like?”
His lips quirked in a wry smile. “It’s not quite as simple as it might sound.”
“With religion, it never is,” she muttered.
“Only those who live according to various ‘higher laws’—” he made quotation marks with his fingers “—gain that benefit. But there’s a cost. Once you join, you begin a process that culminates in embracing certain rituals that go with these laws. We’re not sure what these rituals are. We got most of this information from what was reported in the papers. Martha was vocal about the group’s abuse, but less so about their beliefs.”
“And Milt can’t get more information?” Milton Berger owned the company. Slightly eccentric, he was basically a wealthy businessman who’d never spent a day in the field. At forty-five, he drank and smoked so much he couldn’t possibly run the forty-yard dash. But he had an eye for talent and a talent for making money.
“He’s relying on us to figure out the rest.”
“Do you know what the prize is?”
“The prize?” he repeated.
“What do the people in Ethan’s religion get for living these supposed higher laws? There’s always a prize for good behavior. It’s usually called salvation.”
“They’re admitted into ‘the Holy One’s’ inner sanctum and become sanctified like he is. Or something like that. Again, there might be more to it.”
Remembering what she’d been taught regarding the few elect who would rule with God, she made a face. “How do people fall for this crap?” She’d been steeped in it and still couldn’t buy it, although there’d been plenty of times she’d wished she could. It would’ve made her life so much easier.
“I think psychologists say they’re not happy with the world in which they’re living. Some want to prove how unique and special they are. Others are just hoping to feel as if they belong.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “But who really knows? Motivations are as individual as people.”
“Doesn’t sound to me like the world they’re building will be any better than the one we’ve got.” No matter how hard her father and brother had tried to convince her that the afterlife was all that mattered. “How badly did Ethan Wycliff beat the woman who escaped?”
“She says it wasn’t him. It was a public event—a stoning modeled after those in the Bible.”
She stiffened. “Stoning is a death sentence in the Bible.”
“Martha managed to escape.”
“How?”
“We don’t know exactly. But according to her, Ethan’s getting crazier by the day. She says everyone in the church will wind up dead if someone doesn’t do something soon.”
Rachel glanced at the photograph again. This time, Ethan’s black eyes appeared far colder than they’d seemed before. “Looks like my job’s about to get interesting. Again.” Interesting and potentially dangerous. The dangerous part never changed. But she didn’t mind. It kept her fully occupied, kept her from having to acknowledge the fact that she had nothing in her life except the satisfaction of doing a job most people couldn’t. “When do I leave?”
“We leave in the morning.”
She riveted her eyes on his face. They never worked the same case. He made sure of it. And they both knew the reason. So why the sudden change of heart? “You don’t think I can handle it on my own?”
“Milt’s decision, not mine.” His response divulged nothing of his own reaction. But she could easily guess how displeased he’d been when he heard the news. He probably feared she’d try to seduce him again. He’d made it very clear that he didn’t want that.
“What about Rod?” she asked, trying to control her voice so it wouldn’t reveal her panic. “He could go with me.” More than just a coworker, Roderick Guerrero was one of her best friends. She’d feel far more comfortable with him.
“Rod’s on another job. So are Jonah, Drake and Kellen.”
“Then maybe Angelina would be a better choice for—”
He shook his head. “She’s too new.”
And had no more business in this line of work than Rachel did. He didn’t have to say that; Rachel knew he didn’t approve of having females taking on the dangerous stuff. “Then I can handle it alone,” she argued. A homicidal maniac, drunk on his own power, would be easier to face than daily association with Nate. “It’ll be more difficult for two strangers to gain the trust we’ll need.”
“Milt wants us to go in as a couple.”
“What?” This went beyond going undercover together as…say, friends or acquaintances. What did it mean? Would she be sharing a room—a bed—with Nate?
She couldn’t do it. Not after the way she’d thrown herself at him six months ago. “How will we get them to accept us?”
“They hold meetings they call Introductions. I’m not sure where. But they’re open to the public. Once we find out where to go, you’ll attend one, feign interest and drag me to the next one. We’ll go from there.”
The plan already seemed set in stone, but surely there had to be a way out. “Where is this cult? Not here in Southern California…”
“No. Paradise, Arizona.”
Allowing his response to distract her, she frowned. “That’s the name of the compound?”
“That’s