“Still no luck?” she asks softly, sensing my frustration.

I kiss her smooth skin. “No.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

I shake my head. I’ve tried to conceal what’s in this file from her as much as possible. I don’t want her being exposed to this shit. She’s seen enough, been through enough violence to last her a lifetime. I refuse to subject her to anymore.

“It’s okay, baby. You can head to bed if you want. Don’t let us keep you up.”

“What are those?” she asks, pointing at the sheet of paper in front of me.

“A bunch of shit that doesn’t make any sense.” Wilkinson grunts.

“They almost look like abbreviated Bible verses,” she says, taking a closer look.

I tense. “Bible verses?”

“Yeah. Look.” She grabs the pencil and starts combining the letters with the numbers. “Move this here and this there and it could be Bible verses.”

Wilkinson and I make eye contact before he begins to furiously type on the laptop in front of him. My heart pounds with every passing second as I wait for his response.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he says, drawing a hand down his face.

“What?” I ask.

“She’s right. They’re Bible verses.”

I turn Liv around to face me and kiss the shit out of her. “You’re a genius, babe, a fucking genius.”

Her proud smile is soft. “Well, thank you. Glad I could help.”

I look back to Wilkinson. “So, what do they say?”

He holds his hand up briefly before he continues typing. “Jesus. I think we found our numbers,” he says, staring at the computer screen.

“Give it to me, Wilkinson.”

He turns the screen to me so I can see.

Liv begins reading the verse out loud. I hang on every single word, picking each one apart as I try to decipher the meaning.

“Ye shall walk in all the ways which the LORD your God hath commanded you, that ye may live, and that it may be well with you, and that ye may prolong your days in the land which ye shall possess.” (Deuteronomy 5:33)

I mull that over, my mind stumbling to catch up. Certain words stick out more to me than others.

“Land which ye shall possess.”

“Plug in the next one,” I demand.

A few clicks later and Liv is reading aloud again.

“The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.” (First Corinthians 15:56)

I repeat the sentence over again, wondering what the hell it all means.

“Now just wait.” Wilkinson brings the computer back to him and begins typing again. “Those are actual Bible verses but when I typed in to search, this also came up. It might be what we’re looking for.” He turns the screen back to me.

The name of the website is just as disturbing as the words that fill the screen.

“These verses have been taken out of context and rewritten to suit their beliefs.”

“ WE BELIEVE God gave Israel His Laws for their own good. (Deut. 5:33).

WE BELIEVE theocracy being the only perfect form of government, and God’s divine Law for governing a nation being far superior to man’s laws, we are not to add to or diminish from His commandments. (Deut. 4:1-2).

WE BELIEVE this includes segregation from all non-white races, who are prohibited in God’s natural divine order from ruling over Israel (Deut. 17:15, 28:13, 32:8; Joel 2:17; Isa. 13:14; Gen. 1:25-26; Rom. 9:21).” ⁱ

I read through the other twenty or so remaining passages before it hits me like a goddamn freight train. “Jesus, they’re talking about a new ruler.” My head snaps up to Wilkinson’s. “The mayor.”

“Oh God,” Liv says, her voice shaking.

Lifting up, I pull my cell from my pocket and put in a call to the station. I point down at the paper to the other numbers. “Type those in. Could they be coordinates?”

He does what I ask just as Lucy answers. “Harmony Falls Sheriff’s Department.”

“Lucy, it’s Grayson. Do me a favor and put me through to Mayor Rodgers’s home. It’s urgent.”

When she transfers the call, all I get is a busy signal, which isn’t good since it’s almost midnight.

“Shit!” I throw my phone down on the table. “Let’s head over there and—”

“Hold up.” Wilkinson cuts me off. “The rest of the numbers are coordinates.”

“Mayor’s house?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. Ten miles south of here. Remote location off Highway 283.”

I stand, lifting Liv with me to steady her on her feet.

“All right, radio whoever is on duty tonight and tell them to go to Rodgers’s house and check on him, just in case we’re wrong,” I tell him. “You and I will head to that location but don’t tell anyone that.”

Besides him, I can’t trust anyone else from the department.

“What about backup?” he asks, looking uncertain.

“Don’t worry about it, I got us covered.”

He nods and radios Thompson. I head to the bedroom and grab my gun.

Liv is waiting for me as I step out, her face ashen with fear. “I know you have to do this. I know. But please be careful. I can’t lose you, Grayson.”

I pull her against my chest, wrapping her delicate frame in my arms. “Nothing is going to happen to me, baby. I promise.” Stepping back, I frame her face and press a hard kiss to her mouth. “Be waiting for me when I get back.”

A lone tear slips from the corner of her eyes before she brushes it away. “I’ll always be waiting for you.”

“Okay, Taylor, let’s go,” Wilkinson shouts, bringing my attention to him. “Thompson is heading over to the house now. He’ll radio us when he gets there.”

After another brief kiss to Liv, I rush out the door behind him.

He tosses me the keys to the patrol truck. “You drive, I’ll navigate.”

I hop in the driver’s seat and head toward the location. We get a call within minutes over the radio from Thompson saying he talked with Patricia, Rodgers’s wife, who says he never came home after work and she hasn’t been able to get ahold of him.

He begins asking questions, but instead of responding back, I hit the gas harder and put in a call to Lambert. I’m not taking the chance of trusting anyone else right now.

“Lambert,” he barks.

“It’s me. I need backup.” I give him the location and a brief rundown of what’s happening.

“How fast?”

“As fast as you can. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Shit. It will take me at least fifteen, maybe twenty.”

“That’s fine. Just get there as soon as you can.” Hanging up, I take a hard right on an access road, kicking up dust in our wake. “We’re on our own for a bit,” I say, glancing over at Wilkinson. “You ready?”

He nods, looking a little shaky as he holds the shotgun.

“Wilkinson, tell me you’re good. Right now we’re all Rodgers has. I need you to have a clear head and a steady hand.”

“Don’t worry. I’m good,” he assures me, his voice holding confidence as he grips the gun more firmly.

The GPS takes us off-road, the location at least a mile and a half in the woods.

A few minutes later we spot a faint orange glow flickering between the trees. The closer we get, the brighter it burns, and begins to take the shape of a massive cross.

Anger spins into a black pool of rage.

Pressing my foot all the way to the floorboard, I gun it, adrenaline propelling me. “We’re going in hot. You ready?”

Wilkinson cocks the shotgun. “Ready.”

We approach the clearing, spotting Dixon’s pickup and Lane’s Yukon along the way. Once everything comes into full view, the sobering knowledge of what’s taking place slams into me hard and fast. “Fuck me.”

Mayor Rodgers’s hands are secured behind his back as he balances himself on the balls of his feet beneath a low-hanging branch of a sycamore tree, trying to keep the noose around his neck from cutting off his air supply.

“Jesus, they’ve lost their fucking minds,” Wilkinson grits through clenched teeth. “And where the hell are the rest of ’em?”