She tried to tug her hand out of his grip, but his fingers tightened around her wrist. “You’re his lieutenant, aren’t you?” she demanded, before figuring out a real strategy.
Some emotion flashed in his eyes at her words. Anger? Regret? Cunning?
She couldn’t tell. Did he resent Ward’s position as leader? Was Rolfe hoping to overthrow him? That would be a hard sell in a cult, but at least Rolfe didn’t seem to want her dead. Still, she didn’t want to be in the middle of a power play. Especially with Ward Butler surrounded by survivalists who’d chosen to leave behind everything they knew, and live where and how he demanded.
There were lots of different kinds of survivalists, and most of them prided themselves on being able to live off the land. They knew how to hunt. And they knew how to kill. Most of them didn’t make a habit of killing people, but they hated the federal government, and anyone who represented it. She didn’t want to discover what they were capable of doing to her.
“This may be Ward’s place, but we’re not what you think.”
“Explain it to me, then,” Evelyn said, trying to sound earnest. The more clearly she understood the dynamics, the more likely she’d be able to profile the players. And if she could do that, maybe she could get out of here alive.
Just when she thought he was going to shake his head and drag her off somewhere, probably back to the supply closet—although undoubtedly he’d tie her up this time—he spoke. “This isn’t a cult.” He spat the word out, as though it was dirty, beneath him.
She’d never used the word cult. Was he denying what others had called them? Or was he more intelligent than she’d suspected? She mulled that over as he continued.
“I’m not Ward’s lieutenant or anything else. It may be Ward’s land—and it’s definitely Ward’s rules—but everyone who lives here made the decision to come because they all share one thing. They want to be left alone, to live how they choose, without interference from a government we don’t recognize.”
He scowled at her, then started to pull her forward.
She dug her heels in, sliding forward, anyway, in the wool socks. “Just let me go. I promise, I...”
“You know Butler’s not going to allow that, Evelyn.”
Her name on his lips made her uncomfortable; it sounded as though they knew each other. As though he and Butler weren’t holding her against her will. But he’d claimed Butler was doing it, so maybe she could find an ally here.
“You realize it’s illegal to keep me here against...”
“Illegal?” The skin around his eyes crinkled, and she had the distinct feeling he was trying not to laugh at her. “You trespass on land that doesn’t belong to you, and then you have the nerve to claim we’re doing something wrong? We have every right to protect our land, every right to protect our liberties against a tyrannical government. You have no authority over me.”
He took a breath, and then shook his head, visibly composing himself. “What happened with your friend was wrong, though, and I’m sorry.”
She didn’t want to talk about Jen—didn’t want to remind him of the trouble he could be in—so she tried another tactic. “What good does keeping me here do? You said yourself I don’t belong. So, let me go, and...”
“Keeping you in here keeps your friends out there.”
Before she could ask what friends, he tugged on her wrist, harder this time, making her lose her balance as he opened the door and pulled her out.
“If you let me leave, they have no reason to come in,” she insisted, her heart rate picking up. Whoever was outside—if Rolfe was telling the truth—was probably here because they’d realized Jen was missing. Would they have any idea she was in here?
Rolfe pulled her back the way they’d come, stopping at a room smaller than the closet. She discovered it was a bathroom. Survivalists with indoor plumbing—thank goodness.
“Why don’t you wash your hands?” he suggested softly.
She lifted them, palms up, and saw the blood caked in the creases of her hands. Hurrying to the sink, she turned on the water, not even caring that it was freezing, and scrubbed and scrubbed until her hands hurt.
“I think you got it out,” Rolfe said, turning off the water and passing her a threadbare towel. After she’d wiped her hands, he nodded and led her down the hall again.
As he opened the hidden door, a voice boomed over a bullhorn. “Ward Butler, this is Adam Noonan, from the FBI. We just want to talk. Please pick up the phone we tossed in.”
Evelyn’s pulse accelerated. Adam was from the Crisis Negotiation Unit. And if CNU was here, surely HRT was, too. Which meant Kyle was here.
Hope began to build again. If anyone could get her out of here, it was Kyle and his teammates.
“Ward.” Adam’s voice came over the bullhorn, and it sounded as if he’d been talking for a while, maybe during the time she’d been unconscious. “Let’s start a dialog, one leader to another.”
“Moron,” Rolfe muttered, then said to her, “Watch your step.” He lifted his feet carefully over the taut wire, finally dropping her wrist.
She followed, resisting the urge to rub her arm, then asked softly, “Doesn’t it seem a little dangerous to have a trip wire inside?”
He gave her another of those mocking smiles. “You’ve never lived off the land, have you?” He seemed equally disgusted and perplexed as he added, “You wouldn’t last a day if your comforts suddenly disappeared and you had to try to survive off what the mountain had to offer. You’d be dead before dawn.” With that chilling prediction, he turned and kept walking, clearly expecting her to follow.
It was the first time he’d put real space between them. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at the back door, within running distance, but Rolfe had an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and something else strapped under his camouflage shirt. And she had no idea how far away HRT was. Most likely they’d set up a perimeter outside the fence. Too far to run without being shot in the back.
Still, her whole body tensed as she tried to decide if she had a better chance of outrunning Rolfe out there than she did of weathering Ward Butler’s temper in here.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Rolfe warned, without turning.
She walked a little faster, toward him, even as a voice in the back of her mind told her she’d missed what might have been her only chance to run. “What does living off the land have to do with a booby trap inside your own home?”
Did the other cultists know it was there and always remember to step over it? Or was this a part of the compound only Butler and his lieutenants were allowed to enter?
If so, that was a hell of a way to keep out your own followers.
She glanced back at it one last time, wondering what would happen if it was tripped. Wondering what else was behind that door that she hadn’t been able to see in the darkness.
“Keep
