13
Amy Kemp froze as she watched the policewoman walk back towards the entrance of the farm, accompanied by one of Father Joseph’s henchmen. At least, that was the name she used to refer to them. Not out loud, of course. In a place like this, you never knew who you could trust. But it was obvious the woman was from the police. They’d been here before. It might have been yesterday, or the day before. They all tended to blur into one after a while.
This could be her chance. She’d long dreamed of the time she could get out of here, get away from the repression and subjugation, get away from all the despicable acts she’d been subjected to.
The first time, she was too young to understand what was happening. Her parents were overjoyed that she had been invited to a private audience with Fathe
