The Stone Serpent, page 7
“I want you to have it,” Rebecca said. “It belonged to Mother.”
A lump formed in Laura’s throat. “I couldn’t. She would—she would want you to have it, not me. You’re her daughter.”
“We’re not allowed to wear jewelry,” Rebecca said matter-of-factly. “Sometimes, when I was little, I saw Mother take this necklace out just to hold it and look at it. I think it meant a lot to her. She wouldn’t want it to sit in a drawer forever. She’d want someone to wear it, so I think you should have it.”
Laura nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak, as Rebecca dropped the necklace into her hand. Laura closed her fingers around it gently. In a way, it felt like Gwen was with her again. Her mother, too. Laura had come to Valley Grove wondering if she could repair the last connection she had to her family. Now she felt foolish for thinking that connection had ever truly been broken. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you,” she said.
Rebecca nodded and took a step back. “Don’t forget to keep your promise to call us every now and then.”
“I won’t forget.”
Laura said goodbye to them both and walked out to her car. An air of melancholy engulfed her. She wanted to spend more time with them. She wanted to learn everything about the family she never knew she had. She sat behind the steering wheel for a moment, breathing the hot, stuffy air inside the car. Then, with a pang in her chest, she fastened Gwen’s necklace around her neck. How strange to think this simple piece of jewelry had traveled through time from her mother to Gwen and now to her. The silver pendant felt cool against her skin, as comforting as finding something you didn’t know you’d lost.
Her phone rang.
“How’s it going?” Booker asked when she picked up. “Did Gwen talk to you?”
“It turns out Aunt Gwen died six years ago,” she said. “I didn’t even know.”
“Laura, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“It’s a lot to process,” she said. “I met Gwen’s husband and daughter. They’re good people.”
“She had a family in Valley Grove?”
“I’m as surprised as you are. I’m not used to having any family. I hope you’ll get to meet them someday.”
“I’d like that,” Booker said. “What about Malachai Applewhite? Have you found anything that could explain what happened to him?”
“I’m still no closer to an answer, but it’s got to be here somewhere,” she said. “I know death very well, Booker. It’s part of my job. People die from bodily trauma, disease, toxins, and natural causes. Petrifaction is nowhere on the list. It’s not natural.”
“I wish I could be there with you,” Booker said. “My faculty meeting is over. I’m going to head home and do some more research. I’ll call you if I find anything useful.”
Movement outside the windshield caught her eye. Farther down the street, Shepherd Eliezer entered a house. He was by himself, without the Order of the Faith flanking him, which meant the house he’d entered was likely his own.
She wouldn’t have a chance like this again.
She ended the call with Booker and got out of the car. She wasn’t leaving without answers from Eliezer. As she walked toward the house, her thoughts returned to Aunt Gwen. Gwen hadn’t wanted to cut off contact with her. Eliezer made her do it. Because of him, Laura never knew Gwen had a daughter. She never knew Gwen was sick, or that Gwen died. She never knew any of it. Her anger flared.
When she reached the house, she banged forcefully on the door. She imagined she looked wild, her eyes burning with anger, her hair a gorgon-like tangle. She took a breath. She had to calm down. She couldn’t approach the Shepherd in anger or she’d get nothing out of him.
A young woman in her twenties opened the front door. The delicate red design on her prairie dress matched the healthy ruddiness of her cheeks. Her strawberry-blonde hair was tied back with a red ribbon.
“Can I help you?” The young woman clasped her hands over the small but noticeable swell in her stomach.
Second trimester, Laura thought, likely five months along. People in these small religious communities started their families early.
“Hi,” Laura said, replying in a pleasant voice. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m here to talk to your father.”
The young woman looked confused. “My father?”
“Shepherd Eliezer,” Laura clarified. “I’d like to speak with him, please.”
The young woman smiled, and Laura was struck by her youthful beauty.
“I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake,” the young woman said. “The Shepherd isn’t my father. He’s my husband.”
10.
* * *
Laura couldn’t believe it. This young woman was Shepherd Eliezer’s wife? He had to be forty years older than her. And her pregnancy—Laura thought of Sam Templeton, who’d almost been forced to marry a twelve-year-old girl before he ran away from this place.
“I’m sorry for the confusion,” Laura said, doing her best to keep the shock out of her voice. “I’d appreciate it if I could speak to your husband, please.”
“May I ask what this is about?” the young woman asked.
“It’s about Malachai,” Laura said.
“Malachai?” Her eyes widened into bright blue pools, and she stepped aside. “Please, come in. My name is Sharon Applewhite, and you are?”
“Laura Powell,” she said as she entered the cool shade of the house. “I drove from Sakima. I’m looking for any information I can find about what happened to him.”
“Of course, anything for Malachai.”
Sharon closed the door. The entrance hallway of Eliezer’s house was as austere as Francis’s, with a pale, polished hardwood floor and walls painted a stark white. There was very little furniture, just a standing coat rack adorned with coats and jackets that wouldn’t be worn again until the fall, and a porcelain umbrella stand painted with flowers. An ostentatiously large wooden cross hung on the wall facing the door, approximately three feet from top to bottom. Elijah’s flaming chariot was etched on the center of the cross, where the beams met.
There was no doubt this was the Shepherd’s house.
“Malachai’s death was a tragedy,” Sharon said, clasping her hands nervously in front of her swollen belly. “It came as a terrible blow to this family, and to the whole community. He was a sweet boy, even if he and his father rarely saw eye to eye.”
“What didn’t they see eye to eye about?” Laura asked.
“Faith. Our traditions. All of it,” Sharon said. “I think maybe he didn’t know where he fit in anymore. I can understand that. Everyone has felt that way at times.”
“Is that what he told you?”
She shook her head, eyes downcast. “No. He never confided in me about what he was going through. I wish he had. I cared so deeply for him, but… to be honest, my relationship with both of Eliezer’s children from his previous marriage hasn’t been what I’d like it to be. It’s something I’m still working on with Meredith. I only wish I’d had more time with Malachai. It’s not easy being a new mother to those who’ve lost their own.”
“Their mother passed away?” Laura asked.
“Cancer,” Sharon said. “There’s been so much of it in Valley Grove lately, so many lives lost. We’ve all been tested by tragedy. It’s not for me to question the will of God, but I pray there will be an end to it.”
“Who are you talking to, Sharon?” Eliezer’s voice called from deep within the house.
“We have a visitor, Eliezer,” she replied.
She motioned for Laura to follow her through another spartan, white-walled hallway. In the dining room, Eliezer sat at a rustic wooden dining table. He was hunched over an ancient-looking Bible with a worn and flaking cover, jotting notes down on a yellow pad beside it. A massive painting of the Sermon on the Mount hung on the wall behind him.
“Eliezer, this is Laura Powell. She came all the way from Sakima to talk to you about Malachai,” Sharon said.
Eliezer looked up from his work. The moment he saw Laura, he turned red with fury and rose from his chair. “What is the meaning of this? You have the nerve to come here after trespassing in our cemetery? To come to my home? Sharon, get her out of here immediately!”
Sharon looked stricken, her eyes as wide as a frightened horse’s. Her mouth quivered. Unsure what to do and worried she’d made a terrible mistake, she looked even younger, like a child awaiting punishment.
“Wait,” Laura said. She put her medical examiner’s business card on the dining room table and slid it toward Eliezer. She wished she had an actual badge—flashing it would have been a lot more intimidating—but they only gave badges to law enforcement officers, not M.E.s. “I’m with the Sakima Police Department. I’m here on an official investigation.”
She was surprised at how easily the lie came out of her mouth. Yet it was only half a lie, wasn’t it? She did work with the Sakima PD. Eliezer didn’t have to know she was here against Chief Morales’s orders.
Eliezer picked up the card and examined it. His gaze moved sharply back to Laura and he tossed the card back onto the table. “So what? The Sakima Police Department has no authority here. Valley Grove is under the legal jurisdiction of the county. Sharon, do as I say and show her out.”
“I’m sorry, you have to go.” Sharon moved quickly toward Laura, her face pink with humiliation. She extended one arm to usher Laura out of the room.
“Please, wait,” she said.
Sharon froze again, caught between obeying her husband’s command and wanting to be hospitable. Laura knew what she had to do. She hated it—this was the man who’d ordered Gwen to cut Laura out of her life—but it was the only way to get Eliezer to open up. If she played her cards right, it would take the heat off Francis and Rebecca at the same time.
“I want to apologize,” she said. “You were right, I shouldn’t have been in your cemetery, and I’m sorry. It’s my fault, not Elder Francis’s. He was just being kind and doing what I asked of him. I think you and I got off on the wrong foot, Shepherd, and I’m hoping we can start over.”
Eliezer regarded her silently. Finally, with his ego assuaged, he nodded. Sharon, looking extremely relieved, retreated to stand by the door to the kitchen with her hands clasped in front of her stomach again.
Eliezer sat down once more. “As the Book of Luke teaches us, ‘If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them.’ You see, Dr. Powell, I can be as forgiving as our Lord commands. Sharon, why don’t you bring our guest some water? It’s hot today, and she’s spent far too much time outside in the sun. Haven’t you, Dr. Powell?”
He was still needling her about being in the cemetery. Laura pretended she didn’t pick up on it.
“Some water would be great, thanks,” she said.
“Of course,” Sharon said and disappeared into the kitchen.
Eliezer’s gaze cut back to Laura.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“As I said, I’m investigating your son’s death,” she said.
“I see.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Are you familiar with the Book of Acts? In it, Gamaliel the Pharisee, who was widely considered one of the greatest educators of the ancient world, teaches Jewish law to the Apostle Paul, who was then known as Saul. Gamaliel imparted much wisdom to him, including how to see past what others present as truth to the ultimate truth that hides behind it. For instance, were Paul here now, he might ask why a common car accident would necessitate an investigation that brings the police all the way out to see the victim’s family. So, why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”
“I’m not convinced the accident was the cause of Malachai’s death.”
“Of course it wasn’t. I can tell you the cause of my son’s death.”
That was unexpected. “You can?”
“Absolutely,” Eliezer said. “Malachai was willful and obstinate. He refused to obey my authority or that of the Church. Did you know when he abandoned us, he left at dawn, before any of us were awake? He sneaked out of this house like a thief. But the Lord saw him. He saw Malachai’s disobedience and struck him down just as He struck down the men of Beth Shemesh when they disobeyed Him.”
“Are you saying Malachai died because he left?” Laura asked.
Eliezer leaned forward in his chair. “I’m saying the Lord struck Malachai dead for turning his back on us. It was divine retribution.”
A gasp came from the kitchen doorway, followed by the sound of breaking glass. Sharon stood there, mouth agape, balancing two glasses of water in her hands. The third had fallen and shattered on the dining room floor.
Sharon let out a despondent moan. “I—I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up right away!”
She rushed to put the two glasses she was holding down on the table, then ran back into the kitchen for paper towels.
Through it all, Shepherd Eliezer didn’t take his eyes off Laura.
“And how do you feel about God striking down your son?” Laura pressed.
Eliezer shrugged as if she’d asked his opinion of a bland meal. “God gave His only begotten son to save mankind from sin, and now He has taken mine to save our community from doubt and disobedience. Perhaps I should be honored to be in such illustrious company.”
His son had been a problem, and now he wasn’t anymore. His lack of grief or conscience was chilling. No doubt he’d been just as cold-blooded the day he ordered Gwen to cut Laura out of her life.
Sharon returned with a roll of paper towels. She struggled to her knees, one hand cradling her swollen belly. She wiped at the spill with a paper towel and carefully collected shards of broken glass.
“Here, let me help,” Laura said, kneeling beside her and reaching for the roll of paper towels. “I don’t want you to put any undue strain on your stomach. How many months along are you now?”
“Leave her,” Eliezer interrupted. “She needs to learn to be more careful. Those glasses cost money.”
“She’s pregnant,” Laura snapped. “With your child, I assume. I would think you wouldn’t want her exerting herself unnecessarily.”
“Of course the child is mine!” Eliezer roared indignantly. “I am her husband!”
“It’s okay,” Sharon said. “I’ll be fine. Just let me clean this. It’s my fault. I’m so clumsy.”
Laura stood up again. It wasn’t clumsiness that had made Sharon drop the glass. The timing of it told the full story. Sharon had heard Eliezer refer to Malachai’s death as divine retribution. It had upset and shocked her enough to allow the glass to slip from her hand. Sharon wouldn’t admit it, of course, or take Eliezer to task for his words. This wasn’t a community where women stood up to their husbands, no matter what awful things they said. Laura found it heartbreaking and infuriating in equal measure.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a young redheaded girl of about fourteen entered the dining room. “I heard something break. What happened?”
The girl paused when she saw Laura.
“Everything is all right, child,” Eliezer told her. “Dr. Powell, this is my daughter Meredith.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Meredith,” she said. “My name is Laura. I’m from the Sakima police department and had a few questions for your father about Malachai.”
Meredith nodded shyly. Like all the other girls and women in Valley Grove, she wore a white prairie dress with a floral print, red flowers that matched her own frizzy, coppery hair. A spray of freckles covered the bridge of her small, upturned nose. Her brown eyes were big and curious as she regarded Laura.
“And now I have a question for you, Dr. Powell,” Eliezer said, rising from his chair. “When will my son’s body be returned to us? Our traditions demand that there be no unnecessary delays before burial.”
“That’s up to Chief of Police Morales,” Laura told him. “I’m just looking into what happened to him. Do you know if Malachai had any health conditions? Or was he acting strangely at all?”
Eliezer didn’t answer. Francis had warned her the Shepherd wouldn’t talk to an outsider about any of this. She wished she had the authority to compel him to talk, but she didn’t. Sharon held her peace too, although that was no surprise. If her husband wasn’t going to speak, she wouldn’t either. Instead, Sharon finished cleaning up the spill, gathered up the wet paper towels into a ball, and went back into the kitchen to throw them away.
Meredith continued to stare at Laura. Her gaze wasn’t hostile or frightened, just curious, as if she were intrigued to see a woman wearing something other than a prairie dress and speaking to her father like an equal.
“Did Malachai have any enemies that you know of?” Laura pressed. “Someone who might try to hurt him?”
Again, no answer from Eliezer.
“He didn’t have any enemies,” Meredith said.
Laura was surprised to hear her speak up. So was Sharon, who returned from the kitchen and went right to the girl as if to quiet her.
“Everyone liked my brother and was sad when he left,” Meredith said.
“What about angry?” Laura asked her. “Was anyone angry that he left?”
“Meredith, let me handle this,” Eliezer said. “Go help your mother fix lunch. We’re late to eat as it is.”
Meredith darkened and stared at the floor. “She’s not my mother.”
Eliezer raised his voice. “What was that, child?”
Meredith flinched.
Sharon took the girl’s hand and gently ushered her toward the kitchen, unfazed by the girl’s outburst. “Come, Meredith, you can help me chop the greens.”
“You’ve asked enough questions, Dr. Powell,” Eliezer said. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Before Laura could protest, they were interrupted by angry, raised voices from outside. She went to the dining room window. Eliezer rose from the table to look as well. Outside, Francis had set up a table on the street, and he and Rebecca were handing out the pamphlets they’d made. The two men who comprised the Order of the Faith were there too, confronting them, yelling and trying to grab the pamphlets out of their hands.
