was hiding something. What, he had no idea.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone about seeing her that night, Reverend? Deke didn’t mention it. And I’m sure you didn’t tell the police.”
“You don’t know what some of these girls are like,” the reverend said. “How judgmental, how
“Because they’re pure,” Pax said. “And you’re tainted.” The reverend opened her mouth slightly, which Pax took to express outright shock. “I’ve been talking to Rainy and Sandra,” he explained.
“You have no idea,” the Reverend said. “If they knew I’d helped Jo-that I’d considered such a thing myself- they’d never trust me again.” In the kitchen, a thunk as the girl dropped a bowl or something as big. The reverend didn’t get up.
“One of them followed you up the mountain,” Pax said. “Tommy. Or one of the white-scarf girls. Maybe several of them.”
She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. None of the girls-”
Outside, a car horn beeped twice.
“Somebody followed you,” Pax said. “Somebody close enough to you to find out your secret. They knew you were seeing her, and then they followed you up the mountain and saw you hand over the pills.”
“No.”
“And after you left, they killed her.”
The reverend stood up, went to the window. She pushed aside the drapes, let them fall back. “They’re here,” she said. He didn’t know who she was referring to. “I have to get ready now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who followed you.”
She turned to him. “No one followed me, Paxton. I went down the mountain the same way I went up, and no one was on the path.”
“They hid from you,” he said. “They hid in the trees-it’s easy for them.” Sandra and Rainy could swing through trees like monkeys.
“No one followed me. Now please-get out of my house.”
Two beta girls about Rainy and Sandra’s height came into the room. They eyed Paxton. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, girls. He’s leaving now.” She marched from the room. A moment later the bedroom door slammed.
Pax sat in the chair, waiting. The two girls stared at him. The littlest girl came out of the kitchen to stare as well. Her pajamas were wet where she’d dropped her cereal.
He didn’t like the way they looked at him. Or maybe he didn’t like what he must look like in their eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
The oldest girl walked forward. She was a thin beta with speckled skin like an otter’s. She seized his wrist. Her grip was gorilla strong and surprisingly painful.
He said, “Listen-”
She jerked him out of the chair. Then she fastened her other hand around the back of his neck and with absurd ease steered him to the front door. The other older girl ran ahead of them and opened the front door.
Outside, a dozen girls in white scarves looked up at him.
The reverend’s daughter released him. Pax didn’t move from the porch. His right hand trembled and he gripped the white railing as if it were a weapon.
A dozen yards away, four argos were stepping down out of open-topped pickups. At the end of the drive three other vehicles were coming through the front gate: a couple of sedans followed by a red-and-white four-wheel drive-Tommy Shields’ Bronco.
The entire community seemed to have woken up since he’d gone inside the reverend’s trailer. Beta women and a few men lined the drive, children running between them or holding on to arms or sleeping on shoulders. The older girls, the whitescarf girls, had gathered around the reverend’s trailer as if they’d been preparing to storm it. Maybe they had been.
One of the argos was the young man who worked in Deke’s shop-Gary? Jerry? He and the young argo woman he’d arrived with lifted enormous aluminum-frame backpacks from the bed of their truck. The argo man saw Pax and frowned, confused to see him there.
Pax looked down at the white-scarf girls. They ranged in age from perhaps fifteen years old to twenty. None of them stood much taller than Rainy and Sandra; any one of them could snap his arm.
“Which one of you?” Pax asked. “Which one of you killed her?”
They returned his gaze with eyes like black stones. He realized that he couldn’t read their faces as he had the reverend’s. These girls were opaque to him, inscrutable as fish.
“No takers?” Pax asked.
Tommy Shields had noticed him. A beta girl was touching his arm, pointing back at Pax. Tommy began to jog toward him.
Pax walked down the steps, and the white-scarf girls moved out of his way and fell in behind him. Tommy was running now, yelling for them to hold him. Pax strode toward him.
A young charlie couple got out of their car halfway between them. They looked at Tommy, then at Paxton. “What are you doing here, man?” the charlie man said. Pax had seen him at a few of Rhonda’s paydays. He was dark haired and blockish, the girl round and pale: Mr. Square and Miss Circle, escaping together.
“Where are they?” Tommy said. “Where are the girls?”
The distance closed to a few feet-and Pax launched himself at the man. Tommy threw up his arms, but Pax tackled him and they both went down, tumbling across the sharp gravel. They clawed at each other, kicking and throwing elbows and spitting like children throwing a tantrum. Ridiculous, Pax thought, even as he surrendered to the emotion of it. Tommy hated him, he hated Tommy-it was so simple. A feedback loop of empathy.
Pax lost track of whose limbs were whose. They rolled, smacked against the wheel of a pickup. People around them shouted.
Someone gripped him by the leg and dragged him backward. Hands peeled Pax and Tommy from each other and hauled them upright. The charlie man held Paxton, and an argo had fastened a long arm around Tommy. Pax, chest heaving, tasted blood in his mouth and smiled like a madman. Tommy bled too, but not badly. All that scrabbling and they’d only scratched each other.
“Y’all fight like girls,” said the charlie holding him.
“He knows where they are,” Tommy said. “Sandra and Rainy. He’s trying to hide them so that they can’t go with us.”
The argo looked at him. “Is that so?” he said in his low voice. They were surrounded by betas-white-scarf girls, young children, a smattering of males-and the charlies and argos who’d driven here for the start of the exodus.
“The girls are safe,” Pax said.
Paxton stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?”
The reverend appeared between them. “Stop it. Both of you.” She was dressed now in a skirt and long blouse. She turned to a pair of older beta women. “Sandra and Rainy are at Jo’s house. Please take some people with you to go pick them up.”
The charlie boy released his grip; Paxton was no longer fighting him anyway. The reverend watched his face, waiting to see if he finally understood.
He’d been so blind. The way Sandra had been covering herself with the blanket, the way that for all the time he’d known her she’d worn nothing but loose dresses to Rainy’s tomboy clothes. The way she’d hugged him so carefully last night, touching only shoulders and arms. She couldn’t have been as far along as the reverend, but she’d carefully concealed her shape from him. Rainy and Sandra had conspired to hide it.
So blind.
They didn’t try to stop him from leaving. He walked between the rows of trailers, across the field. When he
