“You want to talk while we work?” he says.
“Do I have a choice?”
His eyes are that same unyielding kindness that never ceases to disarm me.
I toe off my shoes and grab the drill. We work in silence measuring, cutting, and setting the new boards into place. Though we settle into a rhythm, the easy connection we shared from earlier is gone.
All these years, I’ve carried the truth so he didn’t have to face what happened to us. I swore to myself when we were small that as his big brother, I would always protect him. Even if it meant hiding things from him.
And now, all because Trina Guthrie had to stir up shit, it’s going to come out anyways?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ev carries over a cut plank and we drop it into place. “Does the name Otis Wakefield mean anything to you?”
I drive two new screws through the holes until the drill squeaks. “No.”
He gives me a steady glance, like he doesn’t see the turmoil tearing up my insides. “He took over Sons of Eden after we were rescued.”
“So?”
“I talked with a retired social worker who handled Trina’s case. His name came up.”
I don’t need to ask why.
“He also runs a road construction company out of Miller’s Ferry. It must be lucrative because he’s bought up several small businesses over the years. Plus built a private school and some kind of…community center…out in the boonies.” He puts air quotes around community center.
Miller’s Ferry is several hours north of Finn River, in Wallace County. It’s where Ev and I were born and lived until our parents joined Sons of Eden.
I want to ask,Why hasn’t anyone stopped them?but I know the answer. They’re too powerful. And their tactics work too well on those who will do anything to belong. To believe. People like Carey and Sarah Harding—our parents.
“How is he not in jail?” I rub the back of my neck, but it doesn’t stop the anger from flushing hot under my skin.
“According to the Wallace County sheriff I spoke to, Wakefield is just a simple guy expressing his religious freedom.”
“By taking advantage of children?”
“Unless someone comes forward against him, there’s nothingthey can do. Based on some delicate digging, looks like Wakefield has built some allies in the criminal justice system.”
“Fuck.” Another reason why Sons of Eden hasn’t been dismantled. Not only are they experts at manipulation and control, their leaders have got the sheriff in their pocket. Maybe others, too.
If that’s true, then it’s a miracle Ev and I made it out. Or maybe bribery came later? After Otis Wakefield took charge.
Everett’s face tenses. “It gets worse. Otis’s son Jerome lives in Elk Flats. Already bought up some property.”
I set down the drill and brace against the cross plank, trying to ground myself in the lake waves lapping my shins and the crystalline sand grains grinding beneath my feet.
Elk Flats is only forty five minutes north, where Bear Lake curves to the east, like the hook of a sickle. It’s not a very big town. Maybe a few thousand people. It’s also on the border of Clearwater County and Finn River Sheriff Department’s jurisdiction.
“Lind,” Everett says behind me, his tone firm.
I huff a resigned sigh and turn around.
“That social services rep had some other things to share. Apparently, a labor and delivery nurse filed a report a few years ago. She noticed a pattern of underaged girls in labor, with no father, yet they all had the same address. Her report never went anywhere, and nobody can tell me why. I also can’t seem to track this nurse down. It’s like she’s vanished.”
I grit my teeth.
“Trina was forced to do awful things in that cult,” he says. “Things her parents willingly allowed, even encouraged.”