Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(106)

“Mirium Wilkey, you’re under arrest for the murder of Ariel Byrd, for the abductions of a number of human beings who will be named in this warrant. For the forced imprisonment of human beings, for accessory to rape, and other charges that will be included in your booking.”

“This is persecution for our faith.”

“Faith my ass. Officer Shelby, please read Ms. Wilkey her rights, and see that she is taken to one of the wagons we have waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

She rushed out, listening to the reports through her earbud.

She spotted Roarke’s team dragging Wilkey out of his room. Behind them, Roarke had his arm around the shoulders of a woman.

“My girls, please. My girls.”

The hat had obscured her face when she’d gardened, but Eve saw enough to recognize her. “You’re safe now. They’re safe now.”

“He keeps them in the other wing, upstairs. The children are locked in at night. They’re Cassie and Robbyn. Please, don’t hurt them.”

“No one’s going to hurt them, or you. Your name?”

“Fiona Wil—No, no, he makes me use his name, but I’m Fiona Vassar. He says I’m his breeding wife. My God, my babies.”

“We’ll get them out,” Roarke murmured to her. “We’ll bring them to you.”

“He’s a monster.”

“Get her to Mira. Cassie and Robbyn,” she said, looking into Fiona’s eyes. “I’m going to bring them to you. He’ll never touch you or them again.”

“I have a son, but they took him. He’s two now. I don’t know where—”

“We’ll find him. We’ll find him.”

“Come now, Fiona, we’ll get you away from this place. You and your girls. Come with me now.”

Roarke led her away, murmuring to her all the while.

“Clear it,” Eve ordered. “Top to bottom. I want e-men to start on the electronics once it’s cleared.”

Wilkey, wearing only a long white robe, struggled against his restraints. His eyes, feral and wild, latched on to Eve’s.

“You won’t bring down the order. Our faith will remain unbroken, our numbers will rise up and—”

“Save it,” she snapped. “Get him out. He can spout his bullshit from a cell.”

She left them to it, went outside to check on the progress.

“Dallas!” She stopped when Detective Carmichael called out. And Eve waited while she led the woman to her.

“She was pretty insistent about seeing you,” Carmichael said. “We got her out of a room behind the kitchen. The shrieking hag of a bitch with her fucking stabbed Santiago.”

Eve held up a hand. “How bad?”

“Opened up his arm pretty damn good, boss. MTs have him, and we got her—Gayle fucking Steenberg. I want to check on my partner, but I wanted to bring her over first.”

“Ella Alice Foxx,” Eve said, and held out a hand.

“You know me. You know me. You came.”

“I know you, Ella, and we’re here because you didn’t give up.”

Ella threw her arms around Eve. “There are so many of us. So many like me.”

“I know. We’ve got you now.”





22


It took just under two and a half hours to fully contain the compound. It would take days, very likely weeks, to fully process all the people inside, to record or confiscate the evidence, to interview, to find shelters for those held against their will, to do medical and psych evals, to deal with the minors.

And the one hundred and six—at current count—women in various stages of pregnancy.

She toured the torture chamber—the term fit—of what had been the prison. Exam and treatment rooms held tables fitted with restraints, with two containing shock therapy devices. One room offered a sensory deprivation chamber. Locked cabinets contained drugs—legal and illegal—pressure syringes and surgical tools, test kits. And shock sticks.

On the floors above, ten-by-ten rooms served as cells. Windowless, a single steel door, a single cot fitted with restraints, a toilet, a sink, a wall screen.

She stood in one of those rooms now. She knew what this was like. Richard Troy had tied her to the bed sometimes, had often left her in the dark.

She knew what it was like to lie there shivering, helpless, hopeless.

When Roarke found her there, he put his hands on her shoulders, kissed the top of her head. She didn’t bother to object.

“At least I usually had a window. The teams got nine people out of here. Six women and one man in the cells, two guards—one male, one female. The female’s the Mother Catherine Gina told me about. Catherine Duplay. She grabbed a shock stick and resisted. In the struggle, she got a good taste of her favorite form of torture.”

“You’re a little disappointed you weren’t the one to give her that taste.”

“I can’t deny it. We’ve cleared the buildings, the housing units. Most people just gave up. Sure, there was some running and screaming, but most just put their hands in the air.”

“When you’re woken from a sound sleep by law enforcement pointing weapons in your face, hands up is survival.”

“That, and most didn’t have weapons. It’s going to turn out you had to reach a certain level to get one of those fucking shock sticks or a stunner. A few had knives.”