Free Righteous04 - The Blessed and the Damned by Michael Wallace Page A

go first.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
    He decided not to argue. “Keep the gun down. Don’t make any sudden gestures, and whatever you do—”
    She cut him off. “Let’s all stick to what we know. You negotiate, I’ll assess the threat. David, that means you stay out of the way. Come on, let’s make a run for it.”
    They continued forward, to where the trail bent around the spur of the mountain into what increasingly looked like a canyon, based on what he could see rising above the current ledge. Jacob could no longer hear the voices, but they might have been muffled by his own wheezing and the clank of pans and other gear shifting around in his backpack. His legs throbbed.
    And they came around the bend and found themselves face-to-face with two people, who drew up in surprise. One was a man about Jacob’s height, but with gym-built muscles, shoulders bulging out of a tank top, with a long-sleeved shirt tied around his waist. He wore shorts. The other was a woman, hair tied back, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Her hair was short, but he didn’t immediately take her for a gentile, like the man. Both wore backpacks, but smaller day packs, rather than the camping packs carried by the other three.
    The two groups stood some twenty yards apart, neither making a move. The woman whispered in her companion’s ear and he nodded.
    Miriam turned her head to face Jacob. She’d tucked the hand with the gun behind her back, underneath the backpack. “Look at the woman.”
    His gaze turned back to her face. He blinked in surprise.
    Sweat and dirt smudged her face, and she wasn’t wearing the tailored pantsuit, heels, and makeup that had given her such a glamorous appearance the day she’d appeared at Zarahemla, claimingto be looking for a daughter who’d been lured into the cult of Caleb Kimball. But her hair was the same brown with highlights. Now that he looked at it, he wondered if her natural color might not be blonde or even auburn, based on her complexion.
    “I have to admit, I’m surprised,” he said in a loud voice. He left his companions and crossed half the distance toward the other two people. “Allison Caliari. Do you still go by that name?”
    Of course, this wasn’t the real Allison Caliari, the mother of the girl Eliza had rescued from a pit in the desert. Eliza had escaped with Madeline and the boy before Caleb Kimball could burn them alive with the rest of his followers. And then Madeline’s mother had shown up, the real Allison Caliari. She was not this woman.
    The woman shrugged. “You can call me Rebecca.”
    “Rebecca?” He rolled it over on his tongue. “That’s a good biblical name.”
    “Maybe. So what?”
    “I don’t know why I didn’t hear it before. I was distracted by your act. It was pretty good, almost as good as what Sister Miriam can do.”
    Miriam snorted.
    “Hear what?” Rebecca asked.
    “Your accent. The real Allison Caliari was from New Jersey and you don’t hear that much around here. I started comparing it to how you speak. You’ve got a little Utah in your accent.”
    “Let us pass,” the woman said. “We don’t want trouble.”
    “You don’t? Come on, Rebecca. Why would someone come hiking in this wilderness unless they were looking for trouble? What are you doing with my father’s truck?”
    She opened her mouth as if she was going to deny it, but must have thought about how silly that would appear. “I needed a four-wheel drive. He let me take it. I didn’t tell him where I was going.”
    “Sure, because my father would never ask questions. Anyone can walk in off the street and borrow whatever. Even gentiles. Tell me what’s going on.”
    “Let’s go,” Rebecca said. She nudged her companion, and the man led the way down the trail toward the other three. The man’s face hardened as he sized up Jacob.
    Miriam stepped forward. “I’d stop if I were you.”
    They drew short, and without looking, Jacob could tell Miriam had taken out the