“You said someone on the Outside was helping Anne,” Sister Anselm interjected. “Do we know who?”
“A boyfriend most likely. At the time she was married to Richard Lowell, the guy who’s now in charge of the compound. She evidently had a relationship on the side with someone who wasn’t her husband—maybe even with someone outside the cult—and was afraid of what her husband would do to her if he found out about the affair.”
“That’s why she ran away—because she was carrying another man’s child?”
“So it would seem.”
“Should I tell Enid? She’s sleeping right now, but she’s improving.”
“No,” Ali answered. “Don’t tell her anything yet, not until we know for sure that the Kingman Jane Doe is Anne Lowell.”
“How do we ascertain that,” Sister Anselm asked, “especially since the evidence box in that case has gone missing?”
“The box may be missing, but Jane Doe and her baby aren’t. They’re right where you left them in a common grave in Holy Name Cemetery in Kingman, Arizona.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We have a possible ID,” Ali answered. “Bishop Gillespie is the one who paid Jane Doe’s burial expenses. If we can’t get a court order to have the body exhumed, maybe his previous involvement will give him leeway to request an exhumation.”
“It’s a Catholic cemetery,” Sister Anselm mused. “He might be able to make that work, but won’t he need a court order? How would he get one of those?”
“I’ll check with my new BFF, Governor Dunham. She’s busy with planning tonight’s raid, but I’ll ask her to look into the exhumation problem as soon as possible.”
“Wait,” Sister Anselm interjected. “Did you say raid? What raid?”
“How long have you been gone?” Ali asked. “It turns out a lot has happened.”
She spent the next ten minutes telling Sister Anselm everything that had transpired, ending with her long conversation with Governor Dunham.
“So you’ll be going to Colorado City tonight?” the nun asked when Ali finished.
“Yes.”
“I wish I could be there, too,” Sister Anselm said.
“But you can’t. We need you to look after Enid. Let other people handle the rest of it.”
Once off the line with Sister Anselm, Ali spent the next fifteen minutes on hold with the governor’s office, waiting to be put through to Virginia Dunham. By then more than an hour of Ali’s four-hour naptime window had evaporated, and she had yet to make it back to the Crown Inn.
“Yes, Ali,” Virginia Dunham said finally. “Sorry to leave you on hold so long. I was trying to clear up the tour bus situation. For arrestees, I’m bringing along a Department of Corrections bus that’s used to transport prisoners back and forth for court dates. I’ve also hired two motor coaches. They’ll be available to handle the transportation needs of any residents who wish to leave the compound immediately. The coach company was giving my chief of staff fits about possible liability issues. I’m afraid I had to get involved and kick a few asses to make it happen.”
Ali couldn’t help smiling at that. Governor Dunham was definitely living up to her advance notices.
The governor listened patiently while Ali laid out the most recent wrinkle in The Family’s complex history.
“It sounds to me,” Governor Dunham said when Ali finished, “like you’re using the Kingman Jane Doe thing to go after Sheriff Alvarado again. You really don’t like the man, do you?”
“Liking has nothing to do with it,” Ali asserted. “And it’s not just the sheriff. There are things inside his department that don’t pass the smell test, Amos Sellers being a prime example. His being a deputy and The Family’s bounty hunter at the same time isn’t right. In fact, it’s a conflict of interest. I’m worried that Sellers may have been personally involved with what happened to Anne Lowell. He may also be the person behind the disappearance of that critical evidence box.”
“Let’s cross one bridge at a time,” Governor Dunham cautioned. “I can see that having DNA evidence constitutes a new lead in the Kingman Jane Doe case. No matter what the fallout is from tonight’s raid, I owe you an enormous debt for bringing this ungodly mess to my attention. So please let Sister Anselm know there’s no need for her to involve Bishop Gillespie in this matter. My attorney general has a cold case unit that operates statewide. I’ll turn this exhumation issue over to him, but not today, mind you. My whole team, including the AG, are up to their asses in alligators at the moment. You’ll have to trust me on this.”
“I will,” Ali said. “Thank you.”
“See you at six?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ali said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
On the way back to the Crown Inn, Ali called Sister Anselm back and told her she could stand down from tackling Bishop Gillespie—that the exhumation problem had been handled. Once off the phone, she realized it had been a very long time since breakfast. She would have stopped by the Pancake Castle to grab a bite of lunch, but they closed at two-thirty. It was more than an hour and a half beyond that.
B. may have called ahead, but getting let back into the hotel room wasn’t easy. The discrepancy between B.’s last name and Ali’s was noted and required a detailed explanation. Ali could tell by the disapproving frown on the clerk’s face that she was better off claiming their having married recently for the name difference. She had a feeling that the gray-haired woman behind the counter would not approve of someone who had no intention of ever changing her name.
Once Ali managed to talk her way into the room, she was sorry. The bed hadn’t looked all that inviting early in the morning, and nothing had changed in the intervening hours. The faded flowered bedspread was well beyond its expiration date, and even from a distance the lumps in the worn mattress were clearly visible. Ali turned off her ringer, placed the phone on a charger, and set the alarm on her iPad for five-fifteen. Then, slipping off her shoes, she lay down on top of the covers and pulled her coat over her to keep warm.
With so many pieces about to be set in motion, she more than half expected to toss and turn. Instead, she fell asleep instantly. When the alarm went off, she awakened from a dreamless sleep, rested and ready for action.
She and Sister Anselm had started this, and now was the time to finish it.
34
While Ali slept, a text had come in from David. He said he’d been called away, but he had taken Patricia and Agnes back to their new temporary housing unit and gave Ali their address.
When Ali rang the bell at an upstairs apartment, the Patricia who answered the door was barely recognizable from the woman Ali had first seen; Agnes looked totally different, too. David Upton had done exactly as he’d been asked, and the Brought Back girls were transformed. The clothing he’d helped the two women purchase was inexpensive, off-the-rack-type fare, most likely from Target, but it worked. Dressed in jeans, sweaters, and lace-up boots, the two Brought Back girls looked like normal thirtysomething Americans rather than bewildered immigrants from a bygone era.
Somewhere along the way, both women had visited a salon, coming away with short bobs to replace the long cumbersome braids. The thing David hadn’t been able to fix were the neglected and missing teeth, which were still front and center.