Pastor shook his head. “No, but I would like you to fix the satellite dish before you go. I haven’t been able to get online since we moved here to the caves.”

A move that had been necessary because Amos Terrill had been thick as thieves with the FBI. If Ephraim hadn’t spilled his guts, it was almost certain that Amos had. So they’d moved the community to their ultimate safe space, a series of caves just outside the border of the Lassen National Forest.

It had been DJ’s storage spot for their drug harvest for years and his father’s before that, the rock shielding their stash from government eyes in the sky. Neither conventional satellite imagery nor infrared cameras could find them here.

“I’ll try,” DJ promised, but he was lying through his teeth. There was no way he was fixing the Internet. He hadn’t allowed Pastor online while his wounds were healing, claiming he was too weak to manage it. But the truth was that Pastor could not know that Mercy and Gideon were alive, and, given the shoot-out the month before, they could still be in the news. “But the dish was damaged in the last move.” DJ threw an accusatory glance at Coleen. “She didn’t pack it correctly.”

Coleen looked down, her jaw clenched. “I did my best, considering how heavy it was, and that I had to move it into the truck by myself. I couldn’t ask for help, because you were hurt and Ephraim was dead and nobody else is supposed to know we have a satellite dish.”

She actually had done well. There was nothing wrong with their dish, but he couldn’t let them know it.

“We need to bring in another elder,” Pastor said thoughtfully. “One young and strong enough to help with things like that, but old enough to bring some wisdom.”

“Also one who won’t go crazy with rage, knowing we lied to them all these years,” Coleen added carefully.

Pastor chuckled, because Coleen was the only person allowed to be candid with him. She’d earned the right through thirty years of being Pastor’s lapdog, but even she tiptoed around the man. One never knew what mood he’d be in at any given time, on any given day.

“True.” Pastor studied his manicured nails, a sure sign that whatever he was about to say would not be what DJ wanted to hear. “I’m considering Brother Joshua. He was extremely helpful in coordinating our move, and considering we only had the one truck you brought back, DJ, this move was one of our most stressful. We packed the congregation into the truck like cattle, but with over a hundred people, plus the heavy equipment, he made at least ten trips.”

“And I had to keep everyone calm, because no one wanted to live in these caves,” Coleen added. “There was an unusual amount of unrest. It took us four days to get everyone settled. You don’t recall because you were unconscious.”