knew all about mixed emotions. That day she’d escaped, the jumble of dos and don’ts tangled into her reasoning. Then, in a millisecond, she’d made her decision and escaped. She knew the pain Eli was feeling right now, and wished she could somehow take it all away from him.
She drew in a breath, hating the sudden attraction that both lured and frightened her.
“We don’t have to do this,” she said softly.
“I need to.” His expression melted. “And I’m glad you’re here with me.” Then he stepped through after her.
“Where first?” she asked.
“The house?”
She wet her lips. “I’d rather not, thank you.”
“I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He dusted off his pants, tugging free a dried bramble twig as he did so. “Okay, we’ll do the outbuildings first. I wonder what they’re for.”
“The men sleep in one and wash up in the other. Only the married men were allowed to sleep in the house and only one man was married. Noah had strict rules about those sorts of thing. I don’t know why, but I was glad.”
“Perhaps abstinence was part of the starvation routine he used to wield his control.”
Good point. She hadn’t considered that, but it made sense.
Eli led her across the lawn to the front of the buildings. “Where does Noah sleep?”
“I don’t know. He never slept when I was awake. He was always the first up and the last to bed.”
“He always was a night owl.”
She watched as Eli searched the men’s building. It was much newer than the old farmhouse. Occasionally, she’d wondered what had been its original purpose. But she’d never heard the men complain about it. It must have been well insulated.
Finally, Eli came out. Without looking at her, he walked into the other one and within a minute, came out again.
The disappointment showed clearly on his face. The buildings were empty.
She felt her own heart sink and yet at the same time, relief sluiced through her.
Eli walked up to her. “There’s no one in either building. The beds are made, everything is reasonably neat and tidy, like they just left it.” He turned to the house.
“I don’t want to go in,” she blurted out. “Not into the house.”
Eli blinked, his mouth softening from that tight line she’d seen before to something sympathetic. He reached out and took her hand. His fingers warmed hers.
“I know. But I have to find Phoebe. This is my life, Kaylee. And my parents need answers.” After a moment of holding her hand, he dropped it. “I’ll be back.”
The wind slid across her face like strips of cold, wet cotton, the kind she’d used to wipe the dishes in The Farm when it had been her turn. Ahead, Eli stepped upon the rotting porch. She could hear it groan under his weight and the sound brought back a vivid memory. The day those who remained ate spring greens while the rest went grocery shopping. The woman who’d picked and steamed them had lifted her head sharply at the sound of those front boards relenting to Noah’s weight.
Kaylee could still remember the look of apprehension on the two starving children who were still finishing their greens. When the door creaked open, the children gobbled up the rest on their plates and hurried to the sink. They dumped them in there and dashed out the back door.
“It’s open,” Eli said, breaking into her difficult memory. He pushed on the front door, then still outside, threw her his own version of that fearful expression.
Her heart squeezed. He didn’t want to go in and find the cult dead, murdered by his brother or, just as bad, all having taken their own lives.
She pushed aside the terrible worry. This wasn’t fair to Eli.
“Eli?”
Just inside the door, he turned.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go in. Maybe we could call someone to search this place for you.”
He frowned. “Like who? The police?”
She cringed. He knew her history, probably from the diligent investigator he’d hired. He knew she wouldn’t want to deal with the police here ever again.
He shook his head. “Like I said, this is something I have to do.”
Then, with gritted teeth, he walked inside.
FOUR
Tears diluted the scene before her. She didn’t want to go inside her prison of two years.
But being out here, on what some might have been called the front lawn, wasn’t desirable, either. Her mouth dried, then her throat. She swallowed hard in order to break the crackling feeling. Around her stood remnants of farm life; a rusting hoe and one of those rakes that tractors drag behind them. Propped against an old skeleton of a pickup was an equally ancient tractor wheel.
Her gaze wandered upstairs. From the room upstairs she’d looked down for hours on end, asking herself time and again if she’d break her neck should she try to escape through the window. She’d always stayed put, afraid that should she misbehave, she’d end up in that dungeon of a basement where Noah spent so much time.
A blue jay called out a shrill, indignant cry behind her and flew off to her left. To her right, the cause of the disturbance rustled the bushes.
It sounded big.
And it wasn’t that far from the break in the fence. From this distance, she could see the break and the crushed, waist-high grass and weeds where Eli had twisted the chain link. Whatever was following them would see it, too.
The rustling moved toward the break.
Her heart leaped and pounded in her throat and one of her mother’s favorite sayings burst into her mind.
Better the enemy you know.
She broke into a run toward the house. Eli had left the door open and she leaped up past the squeaky plank, right to the stain where a welcome mat once lay and in the next step, over the threshold.
“There’s no one in the kitchen.”
She spun, so quickly she nearly lost her balance.
Eli didn’t seem to notice her agitation. He’d already turned and headed into the living room. To her left stood the stairs. Up to her prison.
Get a grip, she scolded herself. They’re gone. No one’s here. That rustling was just an animal.
Eli appeared at the end of the hall ahead that lined the stairs, having walked the circle from the living room to the back hall. “Let’s try upstairs,” he said, his voice tight with anxiety.
“You
