Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

said Arlo. He crossed toward the framed portrait hanging on the wall. “It’s the same guy.”
    The morning light spilled down in a heavenly beam on the man’s upward-gazing face, as though God Himself approved of his piety. Studying the portrait, Maura saw other details she hadn’t noticed before. The backdrop of golden wheat behind him. The white peasant shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as though he had been laboring in the fields. And his eyes, piercing and ebony black, staring into some distant eternity.
    “And he shall gather the righteous,”
said Arlo, reading the plaque mounted on the frame. “I wonder who this guy is, anyway? And why does everyone seem to have his portrait hanging in their house?”
    Maura spotted what looked like a Bible lying open on the coffee table. She flipped it closed and saw the title, embossed in gold on the leather cover.
    Words of Our Prophet
    The Wisdom of The Gathering
    “I think this is some sort of religious community,” she said. “Maybe he’s their spiritual leader.”
    “That would explain a few things,” said Doug. “The lack of electricity. The simplicity of their lifestyle.”
    “The Amish in Wyoming?” said Arlo.
    “A lot of people these days seem to crave a simpler life. And you could find that here, in this valley. Grow your own food, shut out the world. No TV, no temptations from the outside.”
    Elaine laughed. “If showers and electric lights are works of the devil, then sign me up for hell.”
    Doug turned. “Let’s see the rest of the house.”
    They moved down the hall, into the kitchen, and found the same pine cabinets and wood-burning stove, the same hand pump for water that they’d seen in the first house. Here, too, the window was open, but a screen had kept out the snow, allowing in only the wind and a few sparkling motes. Elaine crossed the room to shut the window, and suddenly gasped.
    “What?” Doug asked.
    She backed away, pointing at the sink. “Something—there’s something dead in there!”
    As Maura moved closer, she saw the butcher knife, its blade smeared with blood. In the sink were frozen splatters of more blood and mounds of gray fur. “They’re rabbits,” she said, and pointed to a bowl of peeled potatoes sitting nearby. “I think someone was about to cook them.”
    Arlo laughed. “Good going, Salinger. Scare the bejesus out of us over someone’s dinner.”
    “So what happened to the cook?” Elaine was still hanging back, as though the carcasses in the sink could reanimate into something dangerous. “She’s about to skin the rabbits and then what? She just walks away and leaves them here?” Elaine looked around at their faces. “Someone answer that. Give me one logical explanation.”
    “Maybe she’s dead,” said a soft voice. “Maybe they’re all dead.”
    They turned to see Grace standing in the doorway. They had not heard her come into the house. She stood hugging herself, shivering in the frigid kitchen.
    “What if they’re all lying under the snow, like that dog? And we just can’t see them?”
    “Grace, honey,” said Doug gently. “Go back to the other house.”
    “I don’t want to be alone.”
    “Elaine, can you walk her back?”
    “What are you all going to do?” asked Elaine.
    “Just
take
her, okay?” he snapped.
    Elaine flinched at his tone. “All right, Doug,” she said tightly. “I’ll do whatever you say. Don’t I always?” She took Grace’s hand, and the two of them walked out of the kitchen.
    Doug sighed. “Man, this keeps getting weirder.”
    “What if Grace is right?” said Arlo.
    “Not you, too.”
    “Who knows what’s under all this snow? There could be bodies.”
    “Shut up, Arlo.” Doug turned toward the garage door.
    “Why does that seem to be everyone’s favorite phrase lately?
Shut up, Arlo
.”
    “Let’s just look through the rest of these houses. See if there’s anything we can use. A radio, a generator.” He stepped into the garage and halted. “I think I just found our way out of here,” he said.
    Inside was parked a Jeep Cherokee.
    Doug ran to the driver’s door and yanked it open. “The keys are in the ignition!”
    “Doug, look!” said Maura, pointing to a mound of metal links on one of the shelves. “I think those are tire chains!”
    Doug gave a laugh of relief. “If we can get this baby up to the main road, we might be able to drive it all the way down the mountain.”
    “Then why didn’t
they?
” said Arlo. He