KnockOut

is magnificent. My holdings are large here, and my children can explore the woods with me as much as they wish. Why would they not wish to stay?”
    Ethan looked around the large, completely white room, the beautiful Impressionist paintings on the wall. Was that a Monet? There was a beautiful antique Persian carpet under the old man’s sandaled feet.
    It was a gem, this room, save for a ridiculous dais with its golden throne at the center. “You build underground to hide from the Mafia?”
    Theodore said, “In part. I feared I would not be so lucky twice. There were other reasons. When you are nearly beaten to death for being who you are, Sheriff, you think about what that means. I left the business of gathering earthly wealth to my sons, and I was free to read and to contemplate, to think about the gifts we Backmans have been given, and the history of others like us. I came to believe my nearly being beaten to death had a purpose—indeed, that I have a purpose, a mission, to find others like us and to build our own community away from our murderers, a community of the elect.”
    “ ‘A community of the elect’?” Ethan raised a brow. “I don’t see that Caldicot has any extraordinary powers. And all these people here, are they being taught something, or are they being used? You have gathered so much money and power by putting your sons to use that you can convince these people to do just about anything, at least for a while. How long do people stay here, Mr. Backman? How long before they realize there is nothing here for them?”
    “Are you quite done, Sheriff? I don’t care for your sarcasm. This is where I choose to be. I’m safe here, and I come and go as I please. That old barn is set a good half-mile from the county road, a road that few drive.”
    “If everyone here is free to leave, then why did Autumn see your family burying people in the family cemetery?”
    The old man’s eyes held a momentary look of regret, and then he let it go. “Two of our visitors—not worthy of us, a rare mistake by Caldicot—threatened to expose us unless we paid them. It was a grave decision, not arrived at easily, but they were not as important as Twilight. I had to protect our secrecy, no matter what. Kjell had to remove them, unfortunately. It has been a difficult time for me, Sheriff.”
    “And just how did Grace and Blessed find Autumn?”
    “Ah, that was a simple matter for Caldicot. He is a clever man. He knew Joanna lived in Boston. All he had to do was look up my poor Martin’s obituary, and there was her maiden name. With that and what she and Autumn had told us, it required only a few well-placed phone calls to search out her family and friends, and her connection to Titusville, Virginia.
    “Now, Sheriff, I have answered your questions. I have an offer for you. You will leave here alive and the woman with you if she wishes, if you convince Autumn to remain with her family. She will not suffer; she will come to be happy here, I promise you. She will be with her family, and I always protect what is mine.”

69
    SUDDENLY THEODORE LOWERED his face in his hands a moment and whispered through his fingers, “But I couldn’t protect poor Blessed.” He raised his head. “My firstborn is not possessed of an agile mind. It was foolhardy of him to follow you into the Titus Hitch Wilderness. He should have waited for a better time. But he could not conceive of failing—he and Grace had never failed before, at anything we asked them to do.
    “And now Grace is dead. The two of them were always so very close, in their minds, in their hearts.” Theodore raised his head. “You took part of my family, Sheriff; you owe me Autumn to pay for what you’ve done to me.”
    Ethan smiled at the profane old man. “You’re worried Blessed will never be able to stymie anyone again, isn’t that right, Theo?”
    Theodore slammed his fist onto his throne arm. “You will call me Father or Mr. Backman!”
    He sighed, then straightened, trying, Ethan thought, to look like a monarch rather than a pathetic old man. His hands fisted, making the veins ride high under his parchment skin.
    He said, pride bursting in his voice, “Whatever happens, it is my granddaughter who did it to him. With no direction from anyone, with no training, with no understanding at all, this little seven-year-old girl simply pulled it out of herself. Did she destroy his power? Wipe it out of him forever? I hope not. But this child is amazing.