Dangerous Sanctuary. Shirlee McCoy
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on Absalom. “You are making a big mistake,” he said.
“The mistake is yours. You’ve unbalanced the peace of the community. In God’s kingdom, my word is law. A little time to think, and I’m sure you’ll both agree,” Absalom intoned, shoving the barrel of the gun a little deeper into Honor’s flesh.
If that were his idea of peace, she’d like to know how he described war.
“Take Mr. Tumberg to the meditation room,” he commanded. Then, he swung around, his grip still tight, the gun still pressed against her cheek.
The yurt was just a few yards away, candlelight shimmering on the ground below the window. A peaceful scene in any other setting, but right now, it was terrifying.
Behind her, there was a scuffle, fists against flesh, quiet grunts. She tried to turn her head, but the gun was pressed so tightly against her skin that she couldn’t.
“Do you know the story of Lot’s wife?” Absalom asked, his lips against her ear.
Her flesh crawled, all the heat that had been roaring through her body replaced by icy fear. “I’m familiar with it.”
“Then you know that looking back didn’t end well for her.”
“I want to see my husband.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Honor. I thought you were more in tune with the goals of the community.”
“I came here to get away from things,” she lied as she allowed herself to be marched to the yurt. Her legs still felt wobbly, but her mind was clearer, her thoughts crisp. “Not to join your community.”
“Part of the experience offered at Sunrise Spiritual Sanctuary is tuning into the peacefulness of nature and of the universe. You’ve been fighting that since you arrived. That’s why you’ve been ill.”
“I think I’ve been ill because of whatever happened to my hands,” she countered, keeping her voice low, because she didn’t want any of his guards to join them.
Even weak, she might have a chance against Absalom.
She’d been trained to take down perps. As a computer forensic expert, she didn’t have much of an opportunity to put that skill to use, but she kept up on technique, training hard and facing off against much larger and stronger opponents in the gym and on the sparring mat. Her job required it. Even if it hadn’t, she’d have attended weekly self-defense classes. Just in case.
Life was full of surprises.
Some of them great.
Some of them not.
It was good to be prepared for either.
“The burns on your hands were healing nicely—”
“Burns?”
“You fell into the firing pit. Sister Hannah was showing you how to make pots. You don’t remember?” he asked, the gun slipping away from her cheek.
She glanced back, saw Radley being manhandled away from the clearing and into the forest.
“No, but it seems like something I should remember.”
“You tripped and fell. Fortunately, you were able to catch yourself with your hands. Otherwise, it would have been your face and body that were burned. We brought a doctor in immediately. He patched you up and gave you some medication to stave off infection. You should have improved rapidly, but you declined. Our health suffers when we’re fighting the natural order of things.”
“What is the natural order?” she asked.
“Peace and harmony with nature, with self and with others.”
There were a million things she wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut, afraid she’d get herself into more trouble if she opened it.
Right now, her focus needed to be on escaping and finding Radley.
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Of course, it does. You’re a kindhearted soul. A woman who takes care of her elderly grandmother and never complains about doing so.”
“What do you know about my grandmother?” she asked, her blood running cold. Dotty was getting older. She wasn’t as strong as she’d once been. That made her vulnerable, and the thought of Absalom knowing anything about her made Honor’s stomach churn.
“Only what you’ve mentioned to fellow guests,” he replied, the gun shifting, his grip loosening as they reached the yurt door.
She might not remember everything that had happened since her arrival, but she knew she hadn’t mentioned Dotty to anyone. Her private life was private. Even people at work didn’t know much about what she did when she left the office at the end of every day.
“I don’t recall mentioning my grandmother at all.”
“Of course, you did. You love her, and you want what’s best for her.” He tucked the gun into a holster beneath his tunic and pulled a syringe from his pocket.
“What’s that?” She took a step away, Radley’s duffle thumping against her thigh. Whatever it was, she wanted nothing to do with it.
“The medicine the doctor prescribed for you. Your husband’s arrival postponed your dose. We’re a couple hours late, but I’m sure it won’t matter.” He smiled, his eyes empty and lifeless, candlelight dancing across his gaunt face.
“What kind of medicine?”
“An antibiotic.”
“In that case, it won’t be necessary. Radley gave me an oral antibiotic a few minutes ago.”
“It’s necessary, Honor. Everything that is happening is necessary for the good of the community and, of course, for you.” He uncapped the syringe.
She didn’t think. She reacted. Swinging the duffle at Absalom’s legs, putting all her strength into it. He fell, the syringe dropping from his hand.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Honor,” he bellowed as he scrambled to retrieve it.
But she was there first, all the sluggishness gone in a wave of adrenaline that demanded action. She had the syringe, was plunging it into his shoulder, injecting him with whatever it contained. She had no idea what.
She couldn’t care.
Not with Radley’s life at stake.
Not with Mary Alice missing.
Not with Absalom knowing exactly what Honor’s weakness was.
Dotty.
She’d do anything for the woman who’d raised her after her parents died.
She ran outside, cold air slapping her cheeks, her heart thudding crazily. She could still feel the fiery heat in her hands, but she was shivering with cold and terror.
Not for herself.
For the people she cared about.
She had to get Radley and get out. Find a phone. Call her uncle, Bennett. Make sure that Dotty was okay.
She ran across the clearing, heading for the woods where Radley had disappeared. No plan in mind except for getting to him.
It took seconds to realize there were no sounds of pursuit. Not feet pounding on the ground. No growled threats or shouted commands. No click of a gun safety. No bullet.
Nothing.
She glanced back, saw a pile of light fabric at the entrance to the yurt. No. Not fabric. Absalom.
She skidded to a stop at the tree line, gasping for breath, still frantic, but thinking clearly and more like herself than she’d been since Radley pulled her from darkness.
Absalom had a gun.
She had nothing.
If