Free Nowhere Land: A Stephan Raszer Investigation by A.W. Hill

congregation?”
         Jim
Bidwell cleared his throat. “The families—well, they’re a bit of a problem
right now. Most of them have left us. They stayed on even after two of the
boys—the ringleaders—were disfellowshipped a couple years back, but after the
killings, they turned around and blamed it on the church.”
         “So
there’s a real history here,” said Raszer. “Why were they disfellowshipped?”
         Amos
Leach answered. “Against the command of the elders,” he said, “they enlisted in
the Army and went off to fight in Iraq.”
         Raszer
blinked. “And that was enough to get them booted out?”
         “We’re
good citizens,” said Leach, “but we believe that there’s only one nation worth
fighting and dying for, and that is the Theocratic Nation of Christ, which was
established in 1914 to prepare our flock for the End Times.”
         “The
world belongs to Satan, Mr. Raszer,” said Bidwell. “Just look around. Look at
any meeting of the UN General Assembly.”
         Raszer
ignored the political contradictions. He had to stay on point or risk losing
them, and he was now far too intrigued to chance that. “And when the boys came
back from the war?”
         “They
were worse than before,” said Leach. “That’s when the real trouble began.
That’s when they took that trailer up into the canyon and started luring the
other kids there. You see, we’ve got some protection from Satan’s power in our
communities. We learned a long time ago how to circle the wagons. But once you
venture out into the world, you’re at his disposal, and once you’ve been to
Babylon, you carry his disease.”
         “It
wasn’t too long after they got back,” said Sam Brown, “that Ruthie—she’s Katy’s
older sister by a year--showed up. Her and the oldest boy, Johnny Horn, they’d
been sweethearts before Silas and Connie—that’s Silas’s wife—split up.”
         “Okay,”
said Raszer, “I get it. I’m going to need the names and addresses of all four
boys’ families—the three who were killed and the witness—and the same for Katy
and Ruthie’s mother. I’m assuming you’ve got them.”
         “We can
give you the Strunk family,” said Amos Leach. “And we’ll give you the last
known address for Silas’s wife. But the other families, no.”
         “Then
I’ll have to get them from the police,” said Raszer. “That is, if you want me
to take this case.”
         Leach
smiled, and Raszer felt sure he saw Leach’s eyes flash briefly. “I’m sure
you’ll manage to get what you need, Mr. Raszer. And Sam here will assist you in
every way.”
         “Then we
have an agreement?” Raszer asked.
         “We’ll
take it under consideration,” said Leach. “If you want my opinion, this is good
money after bad. Silas’s legacy could’ve been a new Hall. But let’s say we have
an
    agreement on principal. We’d sure like to see Katy
redeemed.”
         “I will
find her,” said Raszer, “if you want me to.” Now it was his turn to lace his
fingers in symmetry with Amos Leach’s. “But at the risk of laming my own horse,
let me address Mr. Leach’s opinion. Katy Endicott is now of legal age. I can’t
force her back. She could be anywhere in the world. That means time, and my
time isn’t cheap, even at a discount. Do you have the resources to see this
through?”
         “Silas’s
estate passed to the church on his death,” Sam Brown replied, “and there is a
codicil to his will requiring that we use as much of it as necessary to find
and restore his daughter to the fold. Katy is one of our own. At the time of
her disappearance, she had more good years behind her than bad ones. She’s
still a member of the Little Flock. She belongs with us,” he said. “In the nation of Jehovah.”
         Amos
Leach looked on, unblinking. “We’ll call you,” he said.
         Raszer’s
tires were