His lips formed a straight line. “Yes.”
“Jacob.” I shook my head. “Jacoby, what do you mean is? How did you find me so fast? Did The Light tell you or the FBI?”
He exhaled. “There’s much more to The Light than what you know. I’ve spent the past three years trying to get at its secrets, trying to learn what’s really happening. You were my ultimate test. Although I prided myself on how fast and well I learned the ways of The Light and Father Gabriel’s teachings, I think they suspected that I wasn’t like them. Not until you. You convinced them that I was. I didn’t want a wife”—he stood and resumed his trek—“for many reasons. The obvious one was that this was all a sham. It’s my job. The other was because I don’t agree with all their ways. I could preach it and teach it to new followers.” He shrugged. “I thought of it like the military. I justified it as taking and giving orders, but taking a wife made it different. Taking a wife meant I had to live it. I didn’t want to do that.
“Though Brother Daniel was always supportive, Brother Timothy was equally as negative. I suspect he was involved in forcing a wife on me. He wanted me to fail.”
I hated that man, even the sound of his name. “Why? What is his problem with us?”
Jacob shrugged. “I suspect he doesn’t like you because you’re my wife. I really don’t know why he doesn’t like me. To be honest, I never let it bother me, until . . .”
I reached for my hair, which now fell past my shoulders. “Me?”
His cheeks rose and his brown eyes shone. “God, I hated them for what they did to you, but Sara, I loved you so much more. You were so strong. That was the night I fully believed in you. In us. If what they did to you didn’t break you, I knew you’d survive, and I knew I’d stop at nothing to not only complete my assignment but get you out too.”
I remembered that night. “That really was our first time?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d promised you—it was when you were still unconscious. I promised I’d give you time. I needed to make you believe you were Sara Adams to keep you alive, but what we did in private was different. I swore I’d never force myself on you.” His smile disappeared. “That’s not the way it is with all the men in The Light. I’m on the Assembly. I hear stories.”
My skin crawled as I thought of Brother Abraham’s wife. “Deborah?”
Jacob’s jaw clenched. “Abraham is an ass.” His eyes pleaded. “I never forced you, nor did I ever lie about my feelings.” He ran his hand over his face. “You can hate me forever, and tomorrow we can part ways and never see each other again, but if that happens, I pray you’ll give me the gift of letting me know that you understand why I did everything. And that you know I never meant you harm.”
It was so much, too much. He’d taken too much. I wasn’t ready to give him what he asked, not yet. “What do you mean that tomorrow we could part ways? What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is up to you.”
When has anything been up to me?
CHAPTER 11
Dylan
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed as my phone continued to ring. Each week the same call. Each week the same conversation. As I stared at my screen and read Beverly Montgomery’s name I contemplated hitting ignore.
Ring four.
Ring five.
She’ll just keep calling.
“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery,” I said, trying for my calmest tone. If I’d let it ring one more time it would’ve gone to voice mail. Either she’d have called back or left a message. If she’d left a message, I’d be forced to call her back. It was easier to just talk—like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“Bev,” she corrected. “How many times do I need to ask you to please call me Bev? I’m not interrupting you, am I?”
“No, Bev. I’m clocked out and on my way home.”
“It’s been another week since Stella . . .” Her voice momentarily trailed away. “I just can’t believe it. My baby’s been gone for nearly nine months. Please tell me you’ve learned something new, something that can help.”
I shook my head as I eased my unmarked Charger into early-evening Detroit traffic. “I wish I could. As you know, I’m not on the case.”
“We know that, but you’re on the force. You’re her boyfriend—were.”
I considered correcting her, telling her I wished I were still her boyfriend, but it would only take this conversation the way of many others, down an emotional path I wasn’t up to navigating this evening.
She went on. “Surely they’d let you know . . .” Beverly Montgomery’s words began to crack.
So much for avoiding emotion.