Buford now has six wives. Of course, he doesn’t call them his wives to us. They’re ‘women in his family.’ The other men have at least two or three women each, and we’ve counted forty-eight kids. That’s the sad part—it’s a regular commune and we can’t prove a thing. The police have arrested Buford several times on polygamy charges, but he only has one marriage on record and the other women won’t testify against him. So far there’s not a law prohibiting a man from living with several women. But there’s a law against kidnapping. We might have him this time.”
“Why do you think he took Caroline Whitten?” Eli asked.
“She had a lunch date with her parents but didn’t show, and she missed a meeting with an editor. She’s a photographer and does work for a lot of Texas magazines. She never misses an appointment. Congressman Whitten knew something was wrong and called her fiancé, who said the last time he talked to her she had plans to meet her parents.”
“So how does Buford come into this?”
“It took awhile to piece everything together. There was no forced entry, doesn’t look as if anything was taken out of the apartment. Then a neighbor said she saw two bearded men in robes outside the building. Her fiancé, Colin Burke, told us that Ms. Whitten had an encounter with Buford and his followers when she was photographing wildflowers for a magazine spread. He said that they wore long robes and had full beards, and Ms. Whitten had been afraid of them.”
“That’s all you have?”
“That’s it. This is the third day and the only thing left to do is to try and infiltrate the group.”
“Maybe she’s not there.” Tuck spoke for the first time.
Agent Caufield shrugged. “It’s the only lead we have. We checked with all her friends. No one has seen her. We’re getting pressure on this and we have to find her.”
“What’s the plan?” Eli asked.
Tom tapped the map with his forefinger. “This is how the compound is laid out. There are six makeshift houses that have two bedrooms in each—one for the man and his women and the other for his children. That’s what we’re assuming. Then there’s a large eating room and kitchen with a wood burning stove. All the buildings are in a circle. In the center is where they meet and pray, and there’s a big area for a campfire. Everything is very primitive—no running water, no electricity. There’s a spring on the property they use for water.”
He paused, then added, “Our only recourse is to get someone into the group and see what we can find. This is one of the days they beg on street corners. A police car will drop you off in front of them. They’re drawn to those needing a haven, anyone who’s down and out. At this time of year they’re looking for strong men to help work the fields. They earn income from the vegetables they sell. So your job will be to get in there and find out what you can. We need to know where they’re hiding her. Once you do that, we’ll take over. Just get the hell outta there.”
Bill laid a photo on the table. “That’s Caroline Whitten. Take a good look.”
Eli stared at the photo. Light blond hair, shoulder length, in disarray around a very pretty, almost ethereal face… Her eyes were green. Buford favored blond women.
Like Ginny.
The room was silent.
“Ready?” Agent Caufield asked.
“Yes,” Eli answered. He was ready to meet Amos Buford.
He’d waited ten years.
CAROLINE DIDN’T KNOW how long she’d been here. Hours, days, weeks—everything was the same. The woman, Ruth, brought bread and water twice a day. The first and second times Caroline wouldn’t eat or drink. The third time she wasn’t so choosy.
Darkness was total and she felt it creeping into her soul. She’d beaten on the walls until her hands were numb. She’d screamed until her throat was raw. But nothing penetrated the blackness. Nothing eased its grip.
The air was close and dank and the room reeked. At times Caroline had trouble breathing. She had to hold on. The police must be looking for her by now, but how would they know where to find her? Colin. She’d told Colin about the cult and how she was afraid of them. He would remember. He would help her.
Please, Colin, tell my father and the police what I told you.
Colin wasn’t the type of man to go charging in after the woman he loved. Suddenly she needed that—a strong man who didn’t care about anyone or anything but her.
She twisted the ring on her finger. Lately she’d been having second thoughts about her engagement, and she didn’t know why. She loved Colin. They had the same interests—he owned camera stores in Austin, Dallas, San Antonio and Houston. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about cameras and photography. He helped her to improve her shots and they spent hours talking about angles and light.
But their intimate relationship wasn’t as satisfying, as it was comfortable. Caroline had given up on finding passion—red-hot passion. That didn’t last forever, anyway. But she loved Colin. And he was someone her father hadn’t picked for her. Was that his big attraction? God, no, this place was making her crazy.
A daughter’s guilt.
Earlier—how long ago?—that thought had made her nervous and angry. Now she saw it for what it was—meaningless pride. Her father wanted to bend her to his will, and she was determined to live her own life. In this black abyss, holding on to her pride seemed an insignificant, even petty, struggle.
She’d gladly trade her pride for the sight of daylight, for fresh air and time with her father. Time to say she was sorry and to…
She couldn’t breathe and she fought the suffocating feeling. Caroline was still in command of herself enough to know that the prophet was trying to brainwash her. Slowly, methodically, the darkness would eat away at her until—
Suddenly the wall opened and he stood there, the faint light like a yellow flame behind him. Caroline closed her eyes against the frightening scene. When she opened them again, Ruth was there with a white robe in her hands.
“I have brought your wedding robe,” the prophet said.
Ruth held it out to her. Caroline got to her feet and took it, then threw it on the dirt and spat on it.
“Blasphemy,” Ruth shouted, and grabbed the robe from the dirt.
“You have spirit,” the prophet said with a sinister smile.
“But that will be broken.”
“You can’t keep me here forever. The police will find me and you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars.”
“The FBI has already been here and they found nothing.”
“What?”
“If they come back, they won’t find you. At least not the person you used to be. You will be one of us by then and ready to fulfill the prophecy.”
“You’re evil,” Caroline declared between clenched teeth. “I’ll never be your wife. I’d rather die.”
His
