There was nothing in the pockets of my jeans.
I knew I hadn’t taken my phone out of my pocket until I was in the air. I hadn’t wanted Brother Michael, or anyone at the Western Light, to misinterpret my talking on my phone. The damn envelope had to be in the plane. I considered calling Micah to check, but then I remembered that he’d left the hangar right after I had.
That meant that at this moment he was where he should be, at home in his cramped apartment with Joanna and Isaiah. Clenching my jaws tightly together, I prayed that nothing would alert Father Gabriel and the Commission before the FBI arrived. The loss of Benjamin and Raquel hurt too much. I’d need more than deprogramming if anything happened to the followers I oversaw and those I considered friends.
Quickly I searched the top drawer of our dresser—nothing. One last look and I grabbed the jacket and walked out of Sara’s and my private world. I needed to go back to the hangar and search the plane.
It was still bright outside as I drove toward the gates. This time of year, on the edge of the circumpolar North, the skies were never fully dark. Twilight extended from one day to the next. For some reason the northern lights came to mind. They were something I’d add to my list of things I’d miss about this mission. During the winter months they were spectacular.
DENIED.
What the fuck?
I entered my code again into the inner gate—the same message flashed across the screen—DENIED. I pounded my palm against the steering wheel and took out my phone. Brother Timothy oversaw security. He was undoubtedly the one who’d figured out the cell tower.
I had to get back out to the hangar if Father Gabriel wanted that envelope.
I dialed Brother Daniel.
“Hello, Jacob.”
“Brother Daniel, my code won’t work at the gate. Have they all been changed?”
“Yes,” he replied drily.
“Father Gabriel asked me to find something for him. I didn’t have time when we first landed due to the emergency meeting. I need to get back to the hangar.”
“I’m on the Commission, but this is beyond me. You can understand your actions regarding Fairbanks and, well, the call. I’m sorry, I am. Only Father Gabriel can authorize your new code.”
Fuck!
“I understand. Thank you, Brother Daniel. I regret not being straightforward about Thomas.”
Brother Daniel sighed. “In the end you did what was best for The Light. That’s what matters.”
“Sara?” I couldn’t say her name aloud without its overflowing with emotion.
“Jacob.” Brother Daniel paused. “It’s beyond me.”
Swallowing, I nodded. “Thank you, Brother Daniel. Whom should I call?” I wasn’t thinking straight. Following his orders seemed like the best course of action.
“I’ll call Father Gabriel. Stay at the gate. No one else will be leaving the community today. I’ll call you back.”
“Thank you. I’ll be waiting,” I said, ending the call. A few more pounds on my steering wheel and I ran the palms of my hands over my growing beard. Nothing helped to calm my nerves. I couldn’t sit in the truck. I had to move. Keeping my phone in hand, I got out of the truck and paced, back and forth, back and forth. The hard cracked ground beneath my boots reminded me that it hadn’t rained in weeks. The climate at the Northern Light was a far cry from the humidity in Michigan.
My palm struck the side of the truck, once, twice, three times, each strike sending shock waves up my arm, pain from each impact. It wasn’t enough. The pressure was mounting, and I was about to explode.
The sound of tires against the gravel made me turn, back toward the community.
Brother Daniel had said no one else would be leaving the community. Only the chosen had their own vehicles. There were also panel trucks used by followers to transport supplies and product to and from the hangar. This was a car, and the closer it got the more my chest clenched. I recognized it—Brother Timothy’s.
Widening my stance, I stood, waiting beside my truck, as both doors opened. Brother Timothy came from the driver’s side and Brother Abraham from the passenger’s door. My chest inflated as I stood taller. There was no love lost between me and either one of these men.
Not knowing what they wanted or intended, I sized them both up. Brother Timothy had to be in his early sixties, and though he could be intimidating in voice and with the power he wielded on the Commission, physically he wasn’t. Abraham, on the other hand, was in his early thirties, a little younger than I and maybe an inch or two taller. I was bigger, wider, and undoubtedly stronger. Doing my share of ground crew duties as well as running had kept me fit.
I took a step toward them as they approached.
“Brother Jacob,” Brother Timothy said.