a hero.” The statement all but stuck in her throat, the words parroted from her mother. She’d never understood how her mother could regard as a hero a man who died carrying out an assassination attempt. Had never comprehended how a life of hatred and violence could earn a man a place as a martyr. Her failure to make that connection had led her straight to SPEAR.
Diligently, she shoved the jumbled pain and guilt back into the dark mental corner where she usually kept them. She had an assignment to do here. And memories of her father merely strengthened her resolve to destroy The Brotherhood.
Did Carpenter’s family feel the same bewilderment and failure at the choices he made? Were they physically sickened when they saw the way prejudice had twisted their son, their brother, into something unrecognizable? She thought they must be. From what he’d mentioned, they didn’t approve of his beliefs. She wondered if they’d experienced the same horrible epiphany she had, when she’d finally realized that beneath her father’s face dwelled a monster.
“I’ve upset you.” The pad of his finger caressed her jaw. It was difficult not to jerk away; the thoughts had left her strangely vulnerable.
She shook her head. “He inspired the same sort of loyalty from his followers that you do from yours, and he was a man who insisted on handling important matters by himself. Much as you did this afternoon after Colonel Sutherland interrupted us.” She watched him carefully. “I was concerned when you insisted on confronting the intruders alone. Was there any trouble?”
He gazed into the distance, his profile etched in the darkness. “No, there was no trouble.”
It was apparent that was all he intended to say on the subject. Rachel was far from content with his answer. “Good. I didn’t hear any gunfire, but then, I didn’t know how far away you were.”
“Most problems offer an array of solutions. Force just happens to be the most final one.”
And although her blood ran cold at his ambiguous answer, Rachel was really no closer to knowing what had transpired that afternoon with the Hispanics.
It came as no surprise to Rachel when she opened her door the next morning and saw the same young man, dressed again in black fatigues, leaning against the opposite wall in the hallway. She gave him a casual smile. “You must be an early riser. I hope you had time for breakfast this morning.”
His countenance was stiff, and he focused on a point over her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She started down the hall, and he fell in after her. She wondered what he’d do if she stopped suddenly. Probably plow right into her. Clearly he had taken Sutherland’s chastising to heart. She wouldn’t dislodge him as easily today.
Rachel gave a mental shrug. The young man would be of no concern for a while. She was going to spend the next day or two familiarizing herself with the compound. After the conversation she had with Carpenter last night, she’d felt secure in doing so.
The omelet she had for breakfast was delicious, although she found it somewhat difficult to swallow with her guardian angel hovering nearby. Since the soldier didn’t seem prone to initiating conversation, she tried to engage him. “If we’re going to spend our days together, I think I should at least know your name.”
He hesitated for a moment, before replying, “It’s Private Sallem, ma’am.”
“And I’m Rachel.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She gave a mental sigh. “And what’s your first name?”
He gave the question more consideration than it merited, before finally deciding it was harmless. “Raymond.”
“Excellent.” She smiled at him. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. What could have led someone his age to the hate-filled world of The Brotherhood? Had he been raised in prejudice, as she had, or had he chosen it for himself? She found herself curious. “Do you have family in the compound, Raymond?”
“No, ma’am.”
Her appetite satisfied, she rose from the table and walked from the dining room. “Where are you from?”
“Missouri, ma’am.”
The hallway was lined with artwork she hadn’t had an opportunity to study last night. She paused before each painting and sculpture. The selections could provide more details about Carpenter. Or they may only reveal a man used to surrounding himself with expensive beautiful things. The thought that he probably considered her presence here in the same light nearly made her cringe.
“Missouri is a long way from Idaho. How often do you make it back to visit your family?”
Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear him shuffle his feet. “I don’t have any family, ma’am. My mom died a couple of years ago. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
Which might explain the attraction of the militia group, or others like it. If Raymond had sought out the group in search of a surrogate family, he couldn’t have chosen less wisely.
Ironically, she felt the first stirrings of sympathy for the soldier. Surely in one so young it could not be impossible to show him the error in his thinking. As quickly as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. She’d faced down automatic weapons carried by far younger kids than Raymond. Disillusionment with the status quo seemed to be the lowest common human denominator. And she’d never been in the business of rehabilitation, at any rate.
She slipped on a pair of sunglasses she’d carried downstairs with her and led her young shadow outside and down the front steps. Her first destination was the garden she and Caleb had lingered in last evening. The place where he’d uttered that cryptic statement that had said everything, and nothing, about the trespassing Hispanics. Under the pretense of strolling through the grounds, she took her time studying the confines of the compound, at least what she could see of it from there.
The drive leading to the road in front of the house was at least a mile. Gates stretched across the entrance, connected to what she imagined was an electric fence line. Although she could see activity there, she was unable to make out the number of men patrolling from this distance. She made a mental note to investigate it later.
It wasn’t necessary to feign fascination with the magnificent display of color before her. Although Rachel had no claim to a green thumb, she could appreciate the efforts of those who did. The garden was a fitting addition to the nearby mansion, and for the man who seemed used to the best of everything.
With seeming aimlessness, she exited the garden and began strolling toward the buildings, ignoring the young man at her side. But when they were within a hundred yards of the training facility, Raymond broke the silence. “Ma’am? You’ll probably want to head back up toward the house. These buildings are used during the day for training operations.”
“Perfect.” She graced him with a bright smile. “I was telling General Carpenter last night how much I was missing my daily workouts, and he invited me to use the gymnasium facility. Is this it?”
“Yes, this is it, but I don’t think the colonel would…that is…” His words trailed off when she whipped off her glasses to stare at him.
“The colonel?”
Raymond was clearly uncomfortable. “I—I
