Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

and your disdain for those who don’t believe what you do.”
    MacAfee shifted uneasily. In the warmth of the hall, beads of sweat gleamed on his forehead. “I’ll ask this one more time, Mr. Goode. Either you come with us willingly, or we’ll be forced to arrest you.”
    “I
am
willing! Didn’t I just say I would answer your questions? But ask them now, where these good people can hear you. Or are you afraid of the whole world learning the truth?” He looked around at his followers. “My friends,
you
are my protection. I call on you to bear witness.”
    A man in the congregation rose to his feet and called out: “What are the police afraid of? Ask your questions so we can hear, too!”
    The crowd joined in. “Yes, ask now!”
    “Ask him here!”
    Benches creaked as the crowd grew agitated, as other men stood. The police officers glanced nervously around the room.
    “Then you refuse to cooperate?” MacAfee said.
    “I
am
cooperating. But if you’re here to ask about Kingdom Come, I can’t help you.”
    “You call this cooperation?”
    “I have no answers for you. Because I wasn’t witness to what happened.”
    “When were you last in Kingdom Come?”
    “It was October. When I left them, they were thriving. Well provisioned for winter. Already digging the foundations for six more houses. That was the last time I laid eyes on the valley.” He looked to his congregation for support. “Am I telling the truth? Is there anyone here who would contradict me?”
    Dozens of voices took up his defense. “The Prophet doesn’t lie!”
    Jeremiah looked at MacAfee. “I think you have your answer, Lieutenant.”
    “Not by a long shot,” MacAfee snapped.
    “Do you see, my friends?” Jeremiah said, gazing around at his followers. “How they profane God’s house with their army and their weapons?” He shook his head in pity. “This spectacle of force is a tactic of
small
men.” He smiled at MacAfee. “Has it worked for you, Lieutenant? Do you feel
larger
now?”
    This taunt was more than MacAfee could endure, and his spine stiffened at the challenge. “Jeremiah Goode, you are under arrest. And all these children are now in protective custody. They are to be escorted off this property, where buses are waiting for them.”
    A startled cry rose from the women, followed by a chorus of wails and sobs. The entire congregation surged to its feet in protest. In a matter of mere seconds, MacAfee had lost control of the room, and Jane saw officers’ hands drop to their weapons. Instinctively, she reached for her own as the fury swelled, as violence seemed just one spark away.
    “My friends! My friends!” Jeremiah called out. “Please, let us have peace.” He raised his arms and the room instantly hushed. “The world will know the truth soon enough,” he proclaimed. “They’ll see that we conducted ourselves with dignity and compassion.That when confronted by the brutal face of authority, we responded with grace and humility.” He released a deep and mournful sigh. “My friends, we have no choice but to obey. And I have no choice but to submit to their will. I ask only that you remember what you witnessed here today. The injustice, the cruelty of families wrenched apart.” He gazed upward, as though speaking directly to the heavens. Only then did Jane notice the congregant in the upper balcony, filming the entire speech.
This is all on camera. The videotaped martyrdom of Jeremiah Goode
. Once that footage was disseminated to the media, the whole world would know of this outrage against a peaceful community.
    “Remember, friends!” commanded Jeremiah.
    “Remember!” the congregation responded in unison.
    He descended the steps from the stage and walked calmly toward the waiting police officers. As he moved up the aisle, past his stunned followers, the sound of weeping filled the hall. Yet Jeremiah’s expression was not mournful; what Jane saw on his face was triumph. He had planned and orchestrated this confrontation, a scene that would be played and replayed on TVs across the country. The humble prophet walking with quiet dignity toward his tormentors. He’s won this round, she thought. Maybe he’s even won the war itself. How would a jury convict him when he was the one who looked like a victim?
    He came to a stop in front of MacAfee and raised his hands, meekly offering up his wrists to be cuffed. The symbolism could not be more blatant. MacAfee obliged, and the clack of the metal was