“Amica mia, you mustn’t go back there. Come with me now, and I’ll have you in—”

“They have Aric. I can’t leave without him.” Kit’s voice, normally bright and clear, was a pain-filled, hoarse whisper. “They only let me out today because they want my advice about buying berry bushes from Soldotna.”

All plants grew better with Kit’s help. Under her hands, even the worst soil grew wonders.

“Then we should go to the police to get Aric out.” Frankie held up a hand. “Right, I remember. Someone in the police is a PZ, so we’ll call the FBI or—”

Kit shook her head frantically. “The guards would kill Aric before the cops could get through the gate. Eventually, maybe, someone would find his body in the forest, and they’d say he ran away and got killed by a bear or something.”

Gut-wrenching horror propelled Frankie forward. Her godson wasn’t even five years old yet. “No one would do that.”

“They would.” Kit swallowed. “They have. At least twice in the Texas compound before I joined them.”

How long could someone live in such fear? “Just take Aric and run.”

“It’s…impossible. First, all the young ones stay in the children’s barracks, day and night, with a matron. The women sleep in a building next door unless a husband wants…” Kit wrapped her arms around herself.

Unless a husband wanted his conjugal rights? A flare of anger shot through Frankie. No, concentrate. “So, you don’t get to see him?”

“Well…” Kit hesitated. “Aric sneaks away to be with me. A lot.”

“But you can’t just…escape?” Frankie frowned. “I saw the fence and gate in front. How far does it—”

“All the way around the compound. With guards and watchtowers and guns.” Kit shook her head, shoulders sagging. “Maybe we could hide from the guards…at night…but I sure couldn’t climb that fence, especially with Aric.”

All that razor wire on top. No one could. Frankie scowled. “Why don’t the other women do anything? If all of you revolted…”

“Some women would leave if they could get their children. But some are there because they want to be. Like them.” Kit motioned toward the grocery store. “They believe with all their heart in the Prophet, Reverend Parrish. They tell Captain Nabera if anyone talks about leaving or criticizes anything.”

Before Frankie could ask, Kit added, “Nabera likes hurting people—especially women.”

Madonna, how was she going to get Kit and Aric out? “I’ll tell the FBI, and they’ll surround the place so no one—”

“No. It’d end up being another Waco or Ruby Ridge shootout where kids got killed along with the adults. No.”

“Then”—Frankie’s hands fisted—“how can I help?”

Kit’s gaze was despairing. “You can’t. I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”