The Compound: The Complete Series by Melissa Brown

Author:Melissa Brown [Brown, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2017-07-24T03:00:00+00:00

chapter 18

“My words are the only words of the Lord.”

—The Prophet, Clarence Black

The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to attend congregation the next morning. I hadn’t slept at all, pacing my room and checking on my children each hour. My poor Susan was awakened by my footsteps more than once, and begged to know what was the matter. I urged to her to go back to sleep each time while I paced their room and my own.

Now it was Sunday morning, and for the first time in my life, I was dreading setting foot in our temple. To say that my faith was being questioned would be the largest understatement one could imagine. Since childhood, my views were shaped by the Prophet. I followed his word to a tee, admiring him and all that he’d done for our chosen people.

But now that same man was unrecognizable, and the words of the man on the other side of the closet door echoed through my brain.

“Believe me, buddy, you’ll burn too.”

Whatever Clarence Black was selling to these men was clearly illegal in the eyes of the law and that of Heavenly Father. For a Gentile to assert that our Prophet would burn in Hell?

A shiver ran down my spine when I contemplated what it could be, but I wasn’t stupid. I was fully aware that, although we were the chosen, we were terribly naive when it came to the ways of the outside world. Whatever the Prophet had involved himself in, it was clearly in the realm of the Gentiles. And deep within me, I knew it was something I couldn’t possibly predict.

And that’s why I needed Detective Cooke.

I was counting down the hours until I could sneak away to the police station. The detective was the only one who could help me piece these clues together. Perhaps he’d have the answer I so desperately needed.

We arrived at the temple, taking our seats near the front of the church behind several rows of the Prophet’s wives and children. Settling in with Jeremiah in my lap, I mentally prepared for the Prophet’s sermon, hoping that if I sat low enough in my seat, we wouldn’t make eye contact.

He emerged from his office, which was in the far corner of the temple, tucked behind the pulpit. After locking the door behind him, he walked to his lectern and turned on the microphone, urging everyone to take their seats.

Why did you lock that door?

For years, I’d watched the Prophet emerge from his office before delivering his sermon to the congregation, and never once did I recall him locking the door behind him. Was it possible that this was a new development? Of course. But it was also possible that I’d simply never noticed him doing it in the past because there was no reason for me to do so.

My mind was reeling as Jeremiah tucked his forehead under my chin, wrapping his arms around my neck. I took a deep breath and rubbed his tiny back as the Prophet began his sermon.

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