[Author's Note: This chapter features references, titles, and lyrics by the late, great Amy Winehouse. All these things are, therefore, the official property of Island Records, and no infringement is intended by my using them in this chapter. I'd also like to dedicate this chapter to the memory of the amazing and talented Amy Jade Winehouse (1983-2011). Rest in peace, sweetheart, you are so very missed!]

Chapter 9: He Can Only Hold Her

Residence of Troy Harrison
Fall's End, Holland Valley
November 1, 2018
10:00 AM

Sheriff Troy Harrison was suddenly awoken by loud knocks on his front door. He promptly sat up on his living room couch, clad only in a black Amy Winehouse t-shirt, blue boxer shorts, and socks. He quickly pulled on the pair of blue jeans he had left on the floor the night prior, and as he made his way to the front door, three more equally loud knocks were heard.

"I'm coming!" Harrison said in a raised voice. He opened the door to find Chief Noah Deveraux standing on his doorstep, an official looking folder in his hand.

"Good morning Sheriff!" Deveraux said, his French-Cajun accent sounding very chipper.

Harrison let out a very groggy groan. "Chief", he said as he opened the door wider allowing him to come in, "I take it since you couldn't wait to see me at my office tomorrow, whatever that is in your hand is quite important."

Noah Deveraux made his way further into the sheriff's home as Harrison shut the front door behind him. The Major Case Section Chief handed Harrison the folder. "I spoke to Dodd, Xander, Michaels, and Asher earlier this morning", he said, "I also spoke to Deputy Whitehorse by phone. He's apparently staying at the hospital on the Blackfeet Reservation for the time being."

Harrison nodded. "I was aware of that", he replied, "Mike's father is my predecessor, our old Sheriff, Earl Whitehorse. Earl insisted that Mike stay there for a bit while his broken ribs and bruised lung heal."

"I see", Deveraux said, "My point is that everything they gave me in their statements is backed up by what our crime lab people were able to determine by the physical evidence from the scene of the shooting. The ballistics analysis of the deputies' guns is still pending, but I wouldn't be worried."

With that, a now more reassured Harrison looked over the report inside the folder that Deveraux had given him. "'Despite the pending forensic analysis of the two deputies' firearms'", Harrison read out loud as he quoted the summary of Deveraux's report, "'this investigator has determined that no unlawful wrongdoing occurred, neither on the part of Deputy Kevin Dodd Junior nor Deputy Michael Whitehorse, during the incident in question and therefore recommends full reinstatement and return to full duty for both of them.'" He looked up from the report and smiled. "Thank you, Chief", he said, "the boys will be pleased."

Deveraux sat down on Harrison's couch. "Now that we've got that out of the way", he said, "Could I trouble you for a Bourbon?"

Harrison smirked and chuckled as he placed Deveraux's folder on the coffee table and crossed to his open kitchen. "One", he said, "It's a little early in the morning to start drinking, and two, I don't keep Bourbon. I gave up alcohol two years ago thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous. The best I can promise you is a pot of coffee."

Deveraux sighed. "Sorry Sheriff", he said, "I had no idea. Yes, coffee sounds good. Milk and two sugars if you would, please."

Harrison poured water into his coffee pot and spooned French Roast coffee into a fresh filter. "Call me 'Troy' please", he said, "It's my first day off since I took office and it's not like I'm in uniform or anything." He looked at Deveraux through the open pass-through window that looked into his living room.

Sensing where Harrison was, Deveraux turned his head to face him. "Okay Troy", he replied, "In that case, then, you can call me 'Noah'."

Harrison nodded as he crossed to his coffee pot and began pouring the coffee into two mugs. "So, Noah", he said, "How does a cop who's very obviously from somewhere down South end up being Montana's Chief of the Major Case Section?"

Deveraux smirked. "I guess my accent does make it rather obvious", he began to explain, "We're originally from New Orleans. I was a patrol cop with NOPD until we were displaced by Hurricane Katrina in Two-Thousand-Five."

"Who do you mean when you say 'we'?" Harrison asked.

Deveraux sighed. "My daddy died of Hodgkin's Lymphoma a year before Katrina hit", "I moved back home to help take care of my mama and my baby sister. After the storm subsided, I resigned from NOPD and this really nice charity organization helped Mama and I find our way here to Montana. We've lived at our house in Helena ever since."

Harrison noted the recognizable hole in Deveraux's story. "Your sister didn't come here with you?" he asked.

Deveraux's eyes welled up with tears. "The truth is", he said, "Marcie Jean disappeared after the storm hit, but it wasn't because of the storm. She had found what we thought was a new church about a month before. We thought it would be good for her, that is, until we realized it wasn't just any church that she joined up with. All of a sudden, it was 'Joseph' this and 'Joseph' that."

With that, Harrison let out a deep sigh of realization and dropped his head. "Joseph Seed", he said, "Your sister joined Eden's Gate, didn't she?"

Deveraux nodded as he started to cry. "Marcie Jean was only sixteen years old", he said through more tears, "Those fuckers had no right to her, but by the time we realized what had actually happened, I lost track of her. I took the job here at DCI and realized all I could do was pray and hope for the best."

Harrison sat down on the couch and put a comforting hand on Deveraux's back. "I'm so sorry, Noah", he said.

"Thank you", Deveraux said, "And now that I've told you that, I have a request."

Harrison put the pieces together. "You want to help us take down what's left of the cult, don't you?" he inquired.

"It'd mean the world to me", Deveraux replied, "and I wouldn't have to leave my post at DCI to do it. Since my inquiry into the deputies' shooting is all but closed, I can ask the Attorney General to detail me and a few of my agents to Hope County and help you guys out. If you'll have us, that is."

Harrison nodded. "Make the call", he said, "Pending the AG's approval, welcome aboard, Chief." He extended a hand to Deveraux.

Deveraux shook the sheriff's hand firmly. "Thanks again, Sheriff." With that, he took out his cell phone and dialed the Attorney General's Office.

While Deveraux was busy making his call, Harrison set the Chief's coffee cup in front of him and was met with a grateful nod. He went back into the kitchen to give him some privacy, sitting at his small dining table and taking a moment to check his own cell phone. He noted a "Missed Call" and subsequent voicemail from Sergeant Asher from an hour earlier, which he promptly played back.

"Hey Troy it's Abby", he heard Asher's filtered voice begin the message, "Sorry to be leaving you this info over a stupid voicemail, but first off, I called Chicago and Detective Lenny Marks from District Thirty-Four is going to overnight the whole 'Baby Augustine' file out to us. All the written reports, scene photos, hospital reports, everything will be here by tomorrow morning. Second, I called your buddy Donovan at the FBI and asked him to run the Henbane girl's prints. As of an hour ago, he's still waiting for any matches, but he said he'll fax any results he gets to my office at the jail. Hit me back, thanks, bye."

With that, Harrison texted a thankful message to Asher acknowledging what she had informed him in the message. Deveraux soon came into the kitchen and sat down in the chair facing Harrison.

"It's all set", Deveraux happily told him, "two of my agents will be here by this evening."

Harrison nodded. "Bring them to our office when they arrive", he said, "I'll introduce you to the rest of my department, we'll put all our heads together, and figure out our next plan of attack against these Peggie dickheads."

A chance for Deveraux to reply was cut short by the sudden singing of the late Amy Winehouse. Sheriff Harrison had the chorus of Winehouse's infamous song "Back to Black" set as the general ringtone for his cell phone.

"Harrison", the sheriff punctually answered.

"Hey, boss", Asher replied from her end of the line, "It's Abby again. Agent Donovan got a match on the fingerprints from the girl we picked up over here in Henbane last night. She's apparently been missing from a small town in Texas for about a year."

"Got it", Harrison replied, "I'm coming in right away. I'm bringing a guy from the State Division of Criminal Investigation with me. He and his agents will be joining up with us to help out with the cult case."

"Okay", Asher said from her end of the line, "I'll let everybody know."

"Thanks Abby", Harrison replied, "Great work, kid."

"Thanks Troy", Asher said, "Your confidence in me to run things here today means a lot. See you in a bit."

Hope County Jail & Sheriff's Office
Henbane River

Harrison and Deveraux made their way through the lobby of the Sheriff's Office and into the Dispatch Center, where they ran into nightshift dispatcher Evan Adams getting his messages and mail out of his interoffice mailbox. Evan Adams was a heavyset 21-year-old of medium height with short curly dark hair.

"Hi Sheriff!" Evan warmly greeted

"Well hey there, Evan" Harrison said, "Coming into work a little early, aren't you, bud?"

Evan chuckled. "I stayed later because of the Whitehorse shooting", he replied, "I figured Mom could use some help getting things back to normal."

Harrison nodded. "I appreciate that, bud", he said, "and you did an excellent job handling the radio during Mike's crisis."

"Thank you, sir", Evan said, "How is Deputy Whitehorse?"

"He's doing great", Harrison said, "he's taking a few days to rest up on the Blackfeet Reservation where he grew up. Earl's taking good care of him."

Evan sighed with relief. "That's good to hear", he said, "I'll see you later on tonight, Sheriff." He then gave a goodbye wave to his mother, dayshift dispatcher Betty Adams, who was now manning the main dispatch console, before heading out the side door.

"Good morning Sheriff", Betty Adams said as she turned further around in her wheeled office chair to face him, "I thought you were taking the day off."

"I got called in by Sergeant Asher", Harrison replied as he motioned to Deveraux. "Betty, this is Chief Noah Deveraux with Montana DCI", he said, "can you get him a jail pass, please? We have to go meet up with Abby in her office."

Betty nodded and handed Deveraux a numbered clip-on magnetic keycard with the words "ALL ACCESS" stamped on the front of it before handing him a clipboard. "Sign the log if you would please, Chief", she humbly requested.

Noah Deveraux complied with her request, signing his name and allotted pass number on the log before pinning the jail pass to the breast pocket of his jacket.

Harrison used his keycard to pass through the door which separated the Sheriff's Office from the back side of the Hope County Jail. He and Deveraux then crossed into the Communications Room, which also doubled as Sergeant Asher's office. Asher stood up from her desk as soon as she saw them come in.

"Sorry to have you come in on your day off, Troy", Asher said with a tone of regret in her voice, "I just didn't think this could wait." She handed the sheriff a large file folder with the FBI seal on the front.

"That's okay, Sarge", Harrison said as he opened the folder and started to read its contents, "Have you met Chief Deveraux?" he asked Asher.

Asher extended a hand to Deveraux. "In a manner of speaking", she said, "We spoke on the phone early this morning. It's nice to meet you in person, sir."

Deveraux warmly shook the Sergeant's hand. "You as well, ma'am", he said kindly, "your sheriff speaks highly of you."

Asher turned her attention to Harrison. "I thought the inquiry into Mike's shooting was closed", she said.

"It is", Harrison replied without looking up from reading the contents of the folder. "As it turns out", he continued, "Chief Deveraux here has what you would call a 'vested interest' in the Eden's Gate case. I've asked him to avail himself and the DCI to assist us, and he's agreed."

Asher nodded before changing the subject. "What do you think of what Donovan found out about our girl from Tanami Island?" she asked Harrison.

Harrison began reading the contents of the girl's background check out loud so Deveraux could hear. "Jessica Marie Wyley" he read, "seventeen years old. Born January tenth nineteen-eighty-nine in Fort Worth, Texas to James and Bonnie Wyley of the nearby city of Blue Mound, Texas. They apparently reported as a runaway to the Blue Mound Police Department last July and hasn't been seen since, according to this."

"How did she wind up here in little old Hope County, Montana?" Deveraux asked.

"I spoke to the Chief of Police in Blue Mound, Texas while you guys were on your way here", Asher chimed in, "He told me that witnesses saw her board a bus in Dallas the day after her parents reported her as a runaway, and it turned out that bus was headed for Billings, Montana."

With that, Deveraux cleverly put the pieces of Jessica Wyley's presumed story together. "So, your girl boards a bus in Dallas", he began, "Gets to Billings, and either hitchhikes here or meets up with someone from the cult who gives her a lift. How'd you guys come across her?"

"Last night", Harrison explained, "Just before Mike Whitehorse and Kevin Dodd were shot at, Abby and I responded to a trespassing call on an abandoned island just off Drubman Marina here in Henbane. We detained three teenage kids and singled out Jessica when I noticed she had an Eden's Gate tattoo on her lower back."

"All she kept saying to us over and over again was 'It's too late'", Asher added, "All the way until the park rangers came to help us take the kids in. Then, we got sidetracked when the shooting in Holland Valley went down and Mike was hit."

Harrison took a moment to think. "I think I should go into 'Profiler' mode and try and just do an in-depth interview with this girl", he said, "Try and coax information out of her without her even realizing that she's actually admitting anything."

Deveraux gave the sheriff a puzzled look. "And, if I may ask", he inquired, "what exactly is 'Profiler mode'?"

"I spent five out of my ten years at the FBI as a behavioral profiler working organized and serial crime cases around the country and sometimes even overseas", Harrison replied, "Before that, I earned my Bachelor's Degree in Criminal Justice with a minor in Forensic Psychology. Let's just say that these Eden's Gate shitheads haven't exactly been my first experience in dealing with whacko religious cults."

Asher motioned to the surveillance camera positioned over the door to the Communications Room. "We'll be watching you", she said, "And, as you know, there's an emergency call button in the Infirmary. It rings in here, so press it should you run into trouble."

Harrison nodded and went out the door, down the hall, and into the small Infirmary. Four of the small room's five beds were empty with the exception of the final one, which sat in the far corner of the room right near the unoccupied jail physician's office.

17-year-old Jessica Marie Wyley sat in a seemingly very awkward position on the bed, tightly hugging her knees and looking down at the footboard. The expression on her face seemed to be a blank, cold stare. This was very unlike the vivacious, energetic expressions average teenagers seemed to be able to show. She was clad only in a bland white and blue polka-dotted medical gown and tattered lime green wool socks.

Harrison grabbed a wheeled stool and moved it in front of Jessica's bed, sitting down and holding the case folder in his lap. He did his best to make eye contact with her, even though Jessica herself didn't seem too keen on reciprocating the gesture. "Hello", he said in a very kindly tone of voice, "My name is Troy Harrison. I'm the Sheriff here in Hope County, Montana. Could you tell me your name, please, dear?"

Jessica lifting her head and stretching her legs out in front of her were the first signs of animation she had shown since being taken into custody. "My…" She said in an uneasy and almost rasping tone in her voice, "My name is Delilah."

With that, Harrison sat there confused for a split second, but then it dawned on him the ploy that the cult must've conditioned the young girl to use when being questioned. "Delilah, huh?" he said, "Okay then, Delilah. How old are you?"

"Seventeen", Jessica replied, "I'm a junior at the new Hope County Unified School right here in Henbane River."

Harrison skimmed through the contents of the case folder. "That's interesting", he said, "Because I have a list of the most recent enrollments to Hope County Unified School right here in this folder. There's no 'Delilah' anywhere. You want to try that again, honey?"

Jessica tried to look away after catching the sheriff's knowing look. "No", she coldly replied, "My name is Delilah. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm a junior at the Hope County Unified School."

Hoping to crack the conditioning, Harrison took out a picture taken of Jessica before she had run away from home back in Texas. He took the opportunity to sit on the side of the bed and address the young girl more up close. "We know that's not your name, honey", Harrison said with a warm but very matter-of-fact tone, "Look at this picture, please. Just look, okay?"

Jessica finally took a decent look at her own picture, realizing who she actually was for the first time in a year. "Your name is Jessica Marie Wyley", Harrison continued very matter-of-factly, "You're seventeen years old, you're from Blue Mound, Texas, and you're the only daughter of James and Bonnie Wyley. Your dad rebuilds engines for big rig trucks and your mom is Blue Mound's town secretary. Do you remember?"

Jessica's eyes welled up with tears. "We used to fight a lot", she said with a quiver in her voice.

A relieved Harrison nodded. "Yes, I know, dear" he replied, "You had a really bad fight the day you ran away from home. But that doesn't mean that your parents haven't spent a year's worth of worried, sleepless nights wondering where the hell their baby girl went off to. Your mom calls the Blue Mound Police Department twice a week like clockwork, Jessica. My Sergeant spoke to the Police Chief there earlier today. He told her how much his heart broke having to tell your mom about the lack of leads they've had in finding you."

Jessica began to cry even more. "They're still looking for me?" she asked.

Harrison embraced the girl in a heartfelt hug. "Yes, Jessica", he replied, "Oh sweetheart, of course they are. They've never given up on you, honey."

Harrison eyed the surveillance camera positioned above the Infirmary door as he continued trying to comfort the young girl, knowing that Asher and Deveraux were watching. He made a sign with his free hand, pantomiming a telephone receiver. Viewing the surveillance feed from the Communications Room, Asher knew it was a silent request for her to call the Blue Mound Police down in Texas and update them.

A few minutes later, Harrison came back into the Communications Room as Asher was finishing up her telephone call with the Blue Mound Police. She graciously thanked and said goodbye to whomever was on the other end of the line before putting the receiver back on its cradle.

"That was Chief Walker from the Blue Mound PD down in Texas", Asher said, "He's going to call the Wyleys ASAP and get them on the first plane here."

Harrison nodded. "Good work Abby", he said, "I think I started to break through whatever conditioning the cult had her under, but she's going to need a ton of therapy to try and learn how to reestablish the emotional connection she had with her parents."

Asher sat back in the wheeled leather office chair behind her desk and looked to Noah Deveraux. "Speaking of connections", she said, "You mind filling me in on what exactly your interest is in the Eden's Gate case, Chief? I mean, I thought you were here just to do the state's inquiry into the Whitehorse and Dodd thing."

Noah Deveraux sat down on the wheeled stool in front of the Main Housing Unit's control board and sighed deeply, bowing his head with repentance. "Thirteen years ago," he began, "My baby sister, Marcie Jean, ran away from our home in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina. She was sixteen then. I was with the New Orleans Police Department at the time, and because of all the commotion with the storm, they weren't able to do much as far as investigating what happened to her. I found out later she had apparently left on her own steam to join Project Eden's Gate. I left the NOPD after the storm subsided, my mama and I relocated to Montana, I took this job with Montana DCI, and I've been working behind the scenes to try and get a solid lead on Marcie Jean's whereabouts ever since."

"Noah has asked to help us out, Abby" Harrison added, "Two of his agents will be here later this evening to provide further assistance. Whatever they need from, they get. That's an order."

Asher nodded. "Yes sir", she said before turning back to Deveraux. "I'm so sorry, Chief", she said with a remorseful tone in her voice, "I had no idea. I'll make sure we can do whatever we can to help you."

Deveraux shook his head. "There's no need for apologies, Sergeant", he said reassuringly, "and thank you in advance for the help, ma'am."

Just then, Harrison's cell phone rang, and he saw Adam Xander's name on the caller ID. "Hey Adam!" he promptly answered.

"Hey Troy", Xander replied from his end of the line, "Dakota and I have eyes on the pickup truck involved Mike Whitehorse's shooting."

"Where?" Harrison anxiously asked.

"Horned Serpent Cave", he said.