The Righteous (31 page)

Eduardo stepped in. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” He spoke in Manuel’s direction, though Eliza knew the words were meant for them. “Everyone in this room understands that we need to take care of the bodies, to look after the wounded, to investigate the crime scene while it’s fresh. Get statements, check for fingerprints, etc.”

Eliza’s father said, “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m really not. First, you have no idea how grateful I am that you helped save my daughter’s life.” He leaned forward. “But from my point of view it looks like everything is wrapped up.”

“You know better than that, Mr. Christianson.”

“Do I? The murderers are dead. The others—accessories, as you might call them—are in custody. But does it matter the words we use to punish them? Couldn’t they be tried for other charges?”

“And you’re suggesting,” Manuel said, “that we keep all of this quiet from the outside world?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. My son told me you came to investigate fraud and you found it. Isn’t that enough to put away Elder Kimball and his Lost Boys?”

“You can’t be serious,” Manuel said. His astonishment didn’t seem feigned this time. “We killed two men out there. My partner shot one of them. He took a knife to the shoulder. And there’s the old man from the sinkhole and the man cut open in the temple. That makes four dead bodies, not even counting Eliza’s cousin, murdered by these thugs. And that’s just the start! Jacob says there are murders in New Mexico and California. And kidnapped children, what about that?”

“They killed my son,” Abraham Christianson said in a tight voice. “You don’t think I want to see justice served?”

“Fine. You can’t hide this. Why would you want to?”

Abraham Christianson said, “You know what happens if the outside world hears of this, don’t you? The media will descend like a plague of locusts. We’ve seen it before. They love a juicy polygamist story. They’ll camp in front of every house, school, and church. Not just here but in Alberta and Montana. Every apostate, polygamist crusader, and anti-Mormon will come out of the woodwork. We’re already vulnerable. The extra attention will tear us to pieces.”

“Not our problem,” Manuel said. “And most certainly not our fault.”

“I never said it was. But it’s
our
problem.”

“And you’re suggesting what as an alternative?” Manuel asked. “A massive cover-up?”

“The question is not whether or not we are going to cover this up—I prefer to think of it as keeping our own business private—the question is whether you will make this difficult for all parties.”

“You can’t cover this up,” Manuel insisted.

“You’d be surprised,” Abraham Christianson said. “You can’t even confirm the identities of the dead men without our help. And for all you know, we’ve moved the bodies already. Are you going to throw us all in prison until you get what you want? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a media storm, that
you
don’t want. Surely you’ve heard of the Short Creek raid.”

Eliza had grown up hearing stories of the raids on the Short Creek polygamist settlement in the 1950s. The national media had published photos of screaming children pulled from their mothers’ arms. Fifty years later and the authorities were still hesitant to go after polygamist communities.

The two agents looked furious. Manuel said, “What, are you an independent kingdom, above any laws? You just do whatever you want?”

“What
God
wants,” Brother Joseph corrected, speaking for the first time. “And yes, we are a kingdom. The kingdom of God on the earth.”

The two men looked at each other and Eliza could see the confusion at being thwarted in their legitimate duties. Confusion and anger. And Eliza thought it was a dangerous game her father played. The government could come down on them hard. But something else had occurred to her. Something her father didn’t know about.

Jacob, who had remained quiet during this exchange, caught Eliza’s eye. He gave a significant glance toward the door. He wanted to talk to her alone. She gave a slight nod in response.

Jacob rose to his feet. “Father, Brother Joseph. I have to talk to Eliza alone. Will you excuse us please?”

“Right now, Jacob?” Father asked.

“Yes, now. Just a minute.”

Alone, in the hallway, Jacob asked Eliza, “You have something. What is it?”

She hesitated. It didn’t feel right. Eduardo and Manuel had saved her life.

“It was Eduardo that night.”

“What night? When?”

“When Taylor Junior attacked me and I tried to tell you why I thought God was punishing me. It was Eduardo that I saw. I kissed him. I let him touch me.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I told him I was eighteen,” Eliza said. “He doesn’t know that I’m seventeen. You know what I mean?”

She could see Jacob thinking, weighing the ramifications. “Yes, I see. Seventeen year-old girl. FBI agent seducing a naïve polygamist girl. For sex or to further the investigation, who cares? We’d tell the media and it would explode. The threat of it, I think, might make these two back off.”

It was along the lines of what she’d been thinking, but she didn’t like hearing it voiced. It felt wrong. “Should we do it?”

Jacob said, “Liz, Father’s right. This story will be huge. It has everything to attract the media sharks. Pregnant women murdered. Secret eugenics programs. A polygamist sect and its secrets. It might be better for the church if we covered it up.”

Only he didn’t sound like he thought it would be better. He sounded like he thought it would be worse. “Unless…?”

“Unless we’re going to do the right thing. That’s what it comes down to, Liz.” “It might be the end of the church if we tell the truth,” Eliza said.

“Maybe. Hopefully, we’ll be strong enough to weather the storm.”

“Then we have to do it. We have to tell the truth. And go against Father.”

“He’ll get over it.”

She hesitated. “Okay, I’m ready, if you are.”

They returned to their room and took their seats. Jacob looked right at Manuel. “Here’s our proposal.”

“Jacob?” Father said. “What are you doing?”

“We’ll cooperate with the murder investigation. And the fraud investigation. All we ask are a few small conditions.”

The mood among the men in the room shifted at once. Manuel and Eduardo looked pleasantly surprised and instantly more relaxed. Abraham Christianson looked just as startled, but almost as quickly grew visibly angry. And Brother Joseph? Eliza couldn’t read his expression.

“What are you talking about, Jacob?” Father asked. “What possible reason do we have for cooperating?”

“Most simply, because we should tell the truth.”

Father said, “The truth? Yes, for those who are ready to hear it. But in cases like this, not everything that is true is useful.”

“A morally bankrupt point of view, Dad.”

Father asked, “Didn’t you hear what I said? The media frenzy will eat us alive. There will be gentiles living on our doorstep. Media, law-enforcement. All manner of unsavory individuals. They’ll come to White Valley and Harmony, too. Not just Blister Creek.”

“And then what?” Jacob asked.

“Apostates will appear on TV to air their grievances. Church members will doubt. Finger pointing. Gentiles will mock our sacred rituals and claim we’re abusing our people.”

“And then what?”

“Some, but not all,” Jacob conceded. “Is that all?”

“Is that all? Are you insane, Jacob?” In spite of his words, a subtle change had taken place between the two men. It was Father pleading with his son, not the other way around. “That is everything.”

Eliza said, “Father, even the worst trials come to an end.”

“And we don’t have a choice,” Jacob said. “You want to pick a fight with the Federal Government? There’s no way to win that fight. And I guarantee you, even if we
could
get away with it, we can’t just pretend this never happened. Then it will never go away. But above all, Dad, it’s the right thing to do and every person in this room knows it.”

Abraham Christianson looked angry enough to burst, but Brother Joseph put a hand on his arm and said a few soothing words.

The prophet said, “If we do this, Jacob, will you be our representative? Will you speak to the media and direct our efforts with law enforcement?”

“Of course, Brother Joseph.”

Brother Joseph turned back to Abraham Christianson. “My dear friend, your son is right.” He shook his head. “It’s the honest thing to do. And the best way to put these terrible events behind us.”

Father still didn’t agree. Eliza could see that on his face and knew this was a fight they would have to win later. He had not surrendered, but he had retreated from the battlefield.

“What are your conditions?” Manuel asked. It was the first that either of the FBI agents had spoken during this exchange. He still sounded suspicious.

Eduardo was looking at Eliza again and she could see new respect in the man’s eyes. That look gave her a twinge of guilt. He didn’t know how close she had come to turning her back on him. If Jacob had pushed, she would have poisoned everything by claiming that Eduardo had taken advantage of her.

Jacob said, “First, the kidnapped girls. Will you allow us to return the girls to their families before the media gets involved?”

Manuel nodded, but it looked like a nod of understanding, not agreement. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to convince Elder Kimball to cooperate with the investigation. He’s one of the ringleaders, but I don’t believe he sanctioned the murders. Let him surrender and we can almost certainly find every single one of the conspirators.”

And Taylor Junior?
Eliza wondered.
Could he not be involved as well?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Elder Kimball was disgraced. His family, tragic as that may be for people like Fernie and Charity, was disgraced as well, from top to bottom. There would be no marriage (second marriage, if you could consider the horror with Gideon to be a first) with the Kimball family.

“If you can do that,” Jacob added, “I can almost guarantee that the Lost Boys will cooperate.”

“How will you do that?”

“Securing Elder Kimball’s cooperation is the key. He’ll command the others to obey. You’ll get prison terms for every man involved.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Manuel and Eduardo stood and retreated to a corner of the room where they conversed in low voices for several minutes in Spanish. At last they returned to the table.

“Here’s the deal,” Manuel said. “We contact the families. You can deliver the children. Meanwhile, we keep the investigation low-key.”

“Sounds fair,” Jacob said. “How long do we have?”

“Twenty-four hours. Provided you find Mr. Kimball and secure his cooperation. Otherwise, all bets are off.”

#

Elder Kimball’s head cleared as he fled through the halls of the temple. He had come late to the Holy of Holies and found that the Lost Boys had already taken most of the wine. He’d only consumed a few sips and had been less muddled than usual when they met. And so he hadn’t seen the angel, just a bright light.

He’d escaped in the commotion. And when Gideon and Israel Young ran past holding Eliza he had shrank against the wall.

My son is dead. If they haven’t killed him yet, they soon will.

The truth was, Gideon had been dying for some time. Suicide in slow motion.

And everything that Kimball had thought about Gideon was wrong. What he had taken for contrition had been a scheming obsequiousness. What he had taken for obedience, subterfuge. Gideon had intended nothing less than a complete takeover. Only a blind man would not have seen it.

Or a father.

All his work, carefully building the seeds for genetic domination within the church and ultimately, the world at large, had come to a grinding halt with Gideon’s overreach. Personal greed had destroyed everything.

And you brought Gideon in. You gave him power.

Elder Kimball made his way to the Celestial Room. And found Enoch.

The young man lay dead on the ground. Butchered in the most savage way. They had taken his entrails to feed to the birds and the beasts. His son had done this.

Elder Kimball buried his face in his hands.

“Taylor?” It was Charity. She had come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He tried to shield the body of Enoch, but she had already seen. She looked away with her face pale. But Charity was a strong woman. She looked back at him a moment later.

He looked her in the eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I came to find you. To stop you from whatever it was you came to do. You’re not well.” She gave him a hard look. “In any sense of the word. The only thing for it now is to go back and face your responsibilities. You must think of the church and of your family.”

“The church? My family? What does that mean to me? Brother Joseph will excommunicate me. Yes, he will. And I deserve it.”

They both knew what that would mean. Excommunication would dissolve his sealings. His wives would be given to other, more faithful men. His children, sealed to new fathers. He should kill himself instead.

“It’s not over,” Charity said. She took his face in her hands and he saw real kindness there. It was something he didn’t deserve. “Will your children remember you as a coward? A man who refused to admit his errors, even as his people drove him from Zion?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. There’s still time to earn a small measure of redemption. Help them. Tell them everything you know. Settle Amanda’s death. Punish the guilty. Even if you number among them. Admit your sins and beg forgiveness.”

Kimball bowed his head in shame. “They’ll never forgive me.”

“You don’t know that. And it doesn’t matter. Because your family will see your example. I know that you don’t think much of your sons, but some of them are on the cusp of manhood. They could go either way, follow their sisters’ examples, or turn out like Gideon and Taylor Junior. You can still influence them.”

He looked down at Enoch’s body. He’d long wished for sons like Abraham Christianson’s, but in the end, Abraham’s son had fallen, too. Enoch had been corrupted by the same madness that had taken hold of the others.