The Righteous (7 page)

She took Jacob’s arm, suddenly afraid of Enoch and how angry he’d become. “I’m with Jacob.”

“Figures.”

“Leave her alone,” Jacob said.

“Right, I’ve got no beef with Liz. It’s you, Jacob. It’s because of you that I’m here.”

“No it’s not.”

“Sure it is. If you hadn’t been so damn good at everything, not to mention smug about it, I could have been just a normal kid. Instead, I was compared to you every step of the way.”

Jacob said, “And all the times you got into it with Father? That was my fault too? Oh, yeah, and the beer and cigarettes? Are you going to claim that I bought them for you and forced them into your mouth?”

“I made a few mistakes,” Enoch said. “Big deal. I believed in the gospel, I still believe in it.”

Eliza was struck with the incongruity between Enoch’s words and his behavior. Enoch, who claimed he still believed, had taken a job in the heart of Babylon. The belly of the beast. Why?

Enoch said, “But that’s the funny thing. I believe and I’ve been kicked out. Nobody knows what you believe, Jacob. I don’t think even
you
know.”

“That’s not true,” Jacob said, but the way his words came out Eliza could tell that Enoch had cut him with that last remark. “I know what I believe. Just cause I don’t run into the street and shout my beliefs to the world doesn’t mean that I don’t have them.”

“You’re a doubter.”

“I’m waiting for God to direct me.”

“Hah! That’s your way of saying that you do whatever you want because God hasn’t yet revealed Himself to you. As if you need a personal invitation. God’s plan is freely available in the scriptures and from the mouths of the prophets.” Enoch had raised his voice and now he looked around as if concerned with who might be watching. “Now, what are you doing here? I’ve got a job to do.”

Jacob said, “What were you doing in Blister Creek last week?”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t been to Blister Creek in three years and don’t intend to ever set foot there again.” He had a suddenly itchy nose and blinked, and Eliza suspected that he was lying, in spite of the vigor of his words. “Now, go away. I can’t talk right now.”

“That’s fine. What time do you get off work?”

“What’s that to you? You planning to wait?” Enoch asked.

“Yes. As long as necessary. I’ve been sent by the prophet,” Jacob added. “If you still believe, as you claim, then you will obey his will and speak with me.”

Surprisingly to Eliza, this caught Enoch more off guard than Jacob’s mention of Blister Creek.

He rocked back on his heels. “The prophet sent you?” A long pause. “But, I…why would he have sent you? Why wouldn’t he have sent…?”

Jacob stayed silent and Eliza realized belatedly that this was his tactic, to let Enoch keep talking and revealing information. But before her mind could catch up to Jacob’s, she said, “You know something, don’t you?”

“About what?” Enoch looked newly guarded.

She had grown frustrated. “About Amanda’s murder, Enoch. What do you think?”

His face turned pale. “Amanda Kimball? Murdered? No.”

“Murdered,” she repeated. “Two days ago. With her throat cut from ear to ear and her
tongue ripped out by its roots.”
She didn’t know yet what that meant, but Enoch would, if he’d really been at the temple, and she emphasized it for maximum effect.

Enoch staggered out from behind the television screens. He took two steps away, as if he were trying to flee. He knocked into a cocktail waitress, who dumped her tray with a cry. Drinks spilled to the floor, but Enoch paid no attention to the mess or to the waitress sprawling at his feet. He turned and threw up.

Enoch lived in a brick apartment building two miles northwest of The Strip. He was too shaken to drive, so they left his car at the casino and went in Jacob and Eliza’s Corolla. Enoch had begged out of the rest of his shift on account of illness.

When they reached the apartment, Enoch retreated to the bathroom and locked the doors. They could hear running water from the sink and more sounds of their brother being sick. He looked terrible when he came out. He went straight to his bedroom to change his clothes.

Meanwhile, Eliza had taken a look around the apartment. It was not what she was expecting. It was just a small, clean apartment with no crack pipes, no ashtrays overflowing with butts, no empty beer cans lying around, and no evidence of a roommate, transsexual stripper or no. The only evidence of a worldly lifestyle was a television and a stereo. So much for the rumors. Eliza and Jacob waited on the couch.

When at last he joined them, Enoch was pale but in control. “Sorry about what I said earlier. I’m so tired of lectures. I thought you’d come back for more of the same, and brought Eliza to dish up an extra helping of guilt.”

Eliza said, “You’re my brother. I love you. I thought I’d never see you again. And I didn’t come all the way from Canada to tell you to shape up.”

“Well, maybe that would have been better. Not this other stuff.”

“You wouldn’t have listened anyway,” Jacob said. “You weren’t interested in advice, remember?”

“You still could have helped in some way. I didn’t need a lecture, but yeah, I could have used help. I was destitute, forced to drop out of school. And I didn’t know jack about how to survive out here. You have no idea how low I sank.”

“We can’t help you,” Eliza said. Her anger had faded and now she felt guilty. “You were excommunicated. We have to shun you.”

“Have to? That just kills me. Who came up with that shunning crap anyway?” Enoch shook his head. “But that doesn’t matter. No thanks to you, I survived. I found help.”

“Meaning you took up with the Lost Boys,” Jacob said. “Is that it?”

“Ah, so I should have waited for my family to come around. They would have helped. Eventually. Right?”

“We can go around and around,” Jacob said. “But that’s not why we’re here. Someone murdered Amanda Kimball last Wednesday. You know something about that, Enoch. What?”

He said nothing, so Jacob tried again. “Why target Amanda? What possible reason would they have to kill her, and as a traitor, too, with her throat cut and her tongue ripped out?”

“They told me they weren’t going to kill her,” Enoch said. “Just frighten her. Remind her of her covenants, and let her know the prophet wasn’t pleased.”

“What do you mean, the prophet?” Jacob asked. “Is Brother Joseph involved in this, somehow?” He said it casually, but Eliza found herself shaking her head. There was no way that the prophet would be involved in something so horrible.

“Yes, of course. Well,” and here he paused, “okay, I’ve never spoken to Brother Joseph directly.”

“Is the prophet in the habit of killing those who disobey him?”

Jacob gave her a calming motion. He asked, “How about the Lost Boys? Is Gideon Kimball involved? Israel Young?”

Enoch ignored the question, as he had ignored Eliza’s. “It’s not easy being an outcast. Hated by everyone. Even your own family.” He shook his head. “Who would choose such a life? Yet there are still ways to serve the Lord. Is there not a mansion in the Lord’s kingdom for all who obey His will?”

Jacob said. “Enoch, what are you playing at? You have information. We need it.”

“Why? This doesn’t concern you.”

Jacob fixed Enoch with a hard stare. “Listen. Whatever you think you were doing was not serving the church and most certainly isn’t the will of the prophet or of the Lord.”

“How do you know that?”

“By their fruits, you shall know them,” Jacob said. “An evil tree bringeth forth evil fruit. What’s the fruit of these friends of yours? A young mother murdered by a corruption of the temple endowment.”

“The Lord’s ways are not our own, Jacob. What of God smiting Pharaoh with plagues, or in the Book of Mormon, of Nephi beheading Laban to obtain the Brass Plates? By God’s own command.”

Jacob said, “Whatever moral turpitude has polluted your thoughts, Enoch, let me reiterate, the prophet doesn’t know anything about it. How do I know? I already told you. Brother Joseph and Father sent us to investigate Amanda’s murder. If both the prophet and the senior member of the Quorum of the Twelve aren’t running this, then who is?”

“Perhaps you’ve fallen under the influence of the Adversary,” Eliza suggested. In general, it bugged her when people blamed their bad behavior on Satan, but in this case it seemed appropriate.

Jacob said, “You don’t feel good about what happened, Enoch. Look at your reaction when you heard the news. Whatever you thought would happen, it wasn’t murder. And I know that it’s not you. Do you remember that time when we were kids, when you found Israel Young taping firecrackers to toads? You gave him a beating he wouldn’t forget. And what about the time with the injured kitten? You always had a gentle soul, Enoch. Please, tell us what you know,” Jacob urged. “It’ll lift a weight off your conscience. Won’t that feel good?”

Enoch said nothing and Eliza grew impatient. “Did I tell you? They buried Amanda in a shallow grave in Witch’s Warts. A dead dog gets more respect. Wonder what they’ll tell Sophie Marie. Will she know that they cut her throat like a pig?”

“And you know the worst thing?” Jacob asked. “You could have prevented it.”

Enoch looked pale again. Jacob went to the kitchen to get a pan. Eliza sat on the couch, fuming. Let him throw up. He was a coward and deserved to twitch with guilt. She, for one, wasn’t moved by stories of kittens and toads; what was that to the life of her cousin?

As Enoch bent, she caught a glimpse of something at his chest. He wore temple garments beneath his clothing, but beneath that was a necklace with some sort of medallion on the end. Jacob returned. Enoch straightened and took the pan from Jacob, but he put it aside. The green look faded.

Jacob tried again. “Enoch, it’s important that you tell us as much as you know so we can stop this from happening again. I’ll tell Brother Joseph how you helped us. If you truly believe in the gospel, then you’ll value the blessing of the prophet. Maybe…”

“Okay, that’s thick enough,” Enoch said. “I know what you can and cannot promise. Very little, I’d think. But I’ll tell you what I know.” He paused, ran his tongue over his lower lip. “First, I don’t know who killed Amanda. It might be one of several people.”

“Names?”

“No, Jacob. That’s one thing I can’t do. I made covenants, and unless you want to see me with my own throat cut and my tongue ripped out, you won’t push me for names. And anyway, I couldn’t tell you who did it. Not for sure. You’ll have to find that out on your own.”

“But suffice it to say that Gideon Kimball is one of those names,” Jacob said, to no response. “Would his father, Elder Kimball, be involved? How about Taylor Junior?”

Again, no answer.

He wanted to talk. The guilt was clear on his face, but he still needed prodding. Eliza was wondering how hard Jacob could push without making Enoch retreat fully when the cordless on the wall just outside the kitchen rang. Enoch started, then rose to his feet.

“Let the machine get it,” Jacob urged.

“I can’t. It might be work. I left so quickly, someone might be calling to make sure that I’m okay. This is Las Vegas. Things happen.”

He picked up the phone. A grim look passed across his face, then he went into the bedroom and shut the door.

“That’s not work,” Jacob said.

“You think it’s Gideon Kimball?”

“Maybe. I shouldn’t have let him take that call. You know, he wants to tell us, you can see that. But he wants to tell us without telling us, if that makes any sense. You notice he’s wearing garments? Someone has taken him through the temple.”

“Yeah, and what’s that thing he’s wearing around his neck?” Eliza asked.

“What do you mean?”

“A medallion on a chain. Underneath his shirt. I saw it when he bent over.”

Jacob frowned. “A medallion? I didn’t see it.”

“Silver. About this big.” She made a ring with her fingers the size of an old-fashioned silver dollar. “Markings on it, symbols and such.”

“Like the zodiac, maybe?”

She thought about it. “Not exactly, no. More like Egyptian hieroglyphs. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, but it makes me think of Reformed Egyptian. As in the Gold Plates.”

The Gold Plates, translated by Joseph Smith into the Book of Mormon, had been written on sheets of gold in a language they had called Reformed Egyptian.

They looked toward the bedroom door and waited. Still no Enoch. It had been perhaps fifteen minutes. At last, they could stand it no more and made their way to the door. Jacob knocked. “Come on, Enoch. It’s not going to get any easier.” He waited a moment, then tried the door. It was locked. He knocked again.

Eliza felt the first stirring of discomfort. “Open the door, Enoch,” she said. “You’ve got to help us. They killed Amanda, Enoch. They left her daughter without a mother. Enoch?”

“Damn it, Enoch!” Jacob said. “Open this door or I’m going to break it down.”

Still no answer. Jacob leaned his shoulder in and rammed the door. It held. He leaned in harder this time, but the door didn’t move.

They both joined in now, more worried than anything. “Enoch, open up. Right now. We’re not fooling around.”

Jacob rammed the door again, first with his shoulder again, harder, then with his shoe. It held. Anxious now, they swept the magazines from the coffee table and hoisted it toward the bedroom door like a battering ram. The first blow was tentative and uncoordinated. The second burst the door open. They shoved aside the coffee table and rushed into the bedroom.

The room was empty.

Jacob threw open the closet doors, thinking, perhaps, that he was hiding, or, following Eliza’s thoughts, that he’d hung himself with his belt. It, too, was empty.

She looked around with mounting confusion. “I don’t understand. It’s like an angel took him.”

Jacob snorted before she had a chance to finish this thought. He picked up the cordless phone where Enoch had dropped it on the bed before disappearing, then made his way to the window, where he threw open the curtains. “What’s more likely, an angel spirited him away, or he ran like a coward?” The window was open.

Eliza followed her brother to the window and looked down. They were on the second floor, but there were bushes below to break a fall. The exterior of the building was well lit, as was the street and parking lot beyond. No sign of Enoch.

She gave Jacob an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I just…well, it caught me off guard. What now?”

“We’ll wait. Look at all this stuff. He’s got to come back.”

They took stock of the bedroom. There was a bookshelf filled with all manner of secular and spiritual books. Enoch had a lava lamp on his nightstand, a curious touch, she thought, and a print of the angel Moroni appearing to a young Joseph Smith on one wall. On the opposite wall sat a framed photograph of the Blister Creek temple.

“Maybe,” she said, “but nothing says he has to come back tonight or anytime soon. How long will we have to wait?”

“He’s got a job and a life here, and probably bank accounts, bills, etc. He’ll get out there, wherever he ran, and start thinking about this stuff, and then he’ll come back. I’d give him an hour.”

She wasn’t so sure. He’d been spooked. Or maybe the phone call had told him to run. Either way, who said he had to come back? She sat down on the bed. Jacob rifled through the nightstand drawers.

The front door to the apartment opened. Jacob looked up with a smile on his lips. “Make that five minutes.”

The smile died just as quickly. Two men entered the apartment. They wore black ski masks and carried baseball bats. The men saw the open door to the bedroom and came at them. Eliza stood and Jacob pushed her behind him.

The taller of the two men stood in the threshold of the bedroom. The other stood at his back. “By thy deeds thou hast condemned thyself. Jacob Levi Christianson, in the name of the Lamb of Israel, thou shalt be utterly destroyed even this very day. May thy blood atone for thy sins.”

The masked men raised their bats and rushed at Jacob.