by Toby Neal
“I did.” She nodded. “The other consorts and I all got along. We took turns in his bed and waited on him at his yurt. We got to have the children at our breast until they were one year old, then they went to the children’s care run by women elders. But we got to be with them every day when we had free time.”
“So no one else in the cult had children?”
“No one else was allowed to.”
“That seems tough to enforce.” Dunn flipped a sleek metal pen that looked like it could double as an assassination device between his fingers.
“Only single people are allowed at the compound, and sex is allowed as part of certain rites—but life at Waipio is a spiritual path. If people wanted to pair up or have children, they had to leave and go to one of the lesser group living situations. Sandoval’s compound was considered the apex of the Society. A utopia of sorts.” Blumfield’s mouth twisted.
“But what makes you think foul play befell these women?” Sophie asked. “Perhaps they simply left and went to these other compounds.”
Blumfield shook her head. “I guess it’s possible, but they were very devoted to Jackson, and their children were at the compound.” She licked thin lips. “There’s a ritual called the rooska. It is a voluntary suicide to help the group in some way. I believe they were asked to rooska. Maybe they agreed to it, maybe they were forced.”
“What does rooska involve?” Sophie typed as she talked, capturing Blumfield’s words for later analysis by DAVID.
“Poison. With oleander. Accompanied by some opiates to make you sleepy.”
“So have you witnessed it?” Dunn asked.
“Yes.” Blumfield looked down, fiddled with the tulsi bead bracelet on one wrist. “One of the people who did taxes for the Society had taken money from the group. There was a ceremony where he renounced his wrong, and we were all sworn to secrecy—a blood vow—and he took the oleander and died. He was buried in the garden to enrich it.”
“Is there a certain burial area?” Dunn pushed his legal pad toward Blumfield. “Draw us where it is within the compound. Being able to search for the body would really help us.”
“Bodies are buried right in the garden. We all come from the earth, and return to the earth.” Blumfield’s eyes gleamed with a strange light for a moment.
“We will need to go over all of this and form a plan,” Sophie said. “I hope you’re prepared for it to take some time and expense.”
“I am. Jake has provided me with a preliminary contract. I’m pledging a portion of my trust fund to stop Jackson’s activities,” Blumfield said. “I want my children’s siblings to have a future beyond those walls—and for my sister consorts to have some justice.”
Chapter Eleven
Sophie’s burner phone buzzed with an incoming text as she headed back to her office. It was a texting phone with a flip-open case, and she read the message. “This is Connor. Still up for a hike-run day after tomorrow?”
She already badly needed some sort of physical outlet. “Wish I could go today,” she texted back, reaching her office and shutting the door. “But Dunn has me working hard on the cult case. We are investigating three missing consorts of the cult leader on behalf of our client.”
“Sounds more fun than what I’m doing. Quarterly shareholder reports. Just kill me now.”
Sophie smiled as she read. Connor had been left in charge of the growing security company by its departed CEO Sheldon Hamilton, and clearly some parts of the CEO job suited the breezy Australian better than others.
She plugged her laptop back in and was organizing her notes and files when Dunn reappeared from escorting the women to the elevator. “So. We gonna do some investigating today?”
“Yes. Let’s divide up some of the tasks. I want to run a deep background on Sandoval Jackson using DAVID. I no longer have official access to VICAP and the other FBI databases, but I can still get into them using DAVID and search keywords. I will also build a background as much as possible on these victims. But we can find their parents easily enough. Why don’t you do phone interviews with the parents, find out their attitudes about their daughters’ involvement with the cult, and what they know about the women’s whereabouts?”
Dunn gave her a level look out of those gray eyes. “You trying to give me orders?” He quirked a brow. “You know I’m in charge of this case, right?”
“Really?” The back of Sophie’s neck got hot. “You can’t have a simple talk about who’s doing what without throwing your weight around?”
Dunn lifted his hands. “Hey. We’re new at working together. I just thought I’d remind you of the lay of the land. And it so happens I agree with your plan. What I don’t like is this separate office deal. If I could make these phone calls in here, you could listen to them and I wouldn’t have to recap everything I just said.”
“And if you think I can do highly complicated computer inputting and calculations with you talking in the background, putting your feet on my desk and thinking I’m hanging on your every word, you’re unfamiliar with tech work. I need cool. Quiet. Dim light. No ambient noise but my music.” Sophie lowered the shiny metal blind to shut out the bright Honolulu day. She rotated the blind and the room plunged into twilight. “So no. I don’t think sharing an office would work.”
Dunn stood up, offense in every line of his big body. “Sorry to cramp your style.” He took three long strides and was out the door, shutting it hard enough to rattle the blinds.
Sophie blew out a breath. Clearly neither of them was used to having a partner. At least they’d worked well together on the raid and the interview.
She checked the thermostat on the wall and turned it down to sixty, then took her headphones out of her bag and plugged them in. She put on a padded Bose headset, settled back in her chair, and sank into the oblivion of being wired in.
Some hours later her phone buzzed again, interrupting the spell of her background building with DAVID. She picked it up and read a text from Dunn. “Sorry I was an ass. I haven’t worked with a partner before, only a unit I commanded. So we’re going to have a few adjustments. Can we confab?”
Sophie stored her latest input and texted back. “Yes. You can come in now.”
She hardly had time to take off her headphones when Dunn appeared at the door. “Got some good stuff from the parents. Mind if I hit the light?”
“I prefer natural light if at all possible.” Sophie swiveled the blinds halfway open.
“You really are a delicate flower, aren’t you? Brr. It’s cold in here.” Dunn’s buoyancy was back.
“I’m more like a finely calibrated machine that needs certain conditions for optimal performance,” Sophie said stiffly. His energy might just be a good balance for her, especially when the depression was bad.
“Whatever.” Dunn flopped in the chair next to the table that he seemed to have chosen. “So. All the parents have concerns about how long their daughters have been missing, and about not being allowed to see their grandchildren. Jennifer Roberts’s parents hadn’t heard from their daughter in ten years and didn’t know where she was at all. The grandchildren and the cult were news to them. We may get more contributions to this op than just Blumfield and her money. The women’s parents who knew about it hated the Society of Light.” Dunn had brought in two water bottles along with his legal pad, and he tossed her one. “You need to hydrate, for that finely tuned brain to be properly calibrated.”
Sophie took the lid off the bottle and drank deep as he continued. “So Mandy Newburt’s parents, the first woman who disappeared, have been the most active. They filed a missing person report, but they did that in their hometown in California, not with Hilo PD. So it seems that the message never got through to Hilo. Amy Fillmore’s parents are also concerned that they hadn’t heard from their daughter, but chalked it up to her being ‘so involved with that sick guru of hers.’” He air quoted his words. “And as I said, Jennifer’s parents hadn’t heard from her in ten years, but they were estranged from th
eir daughter.”
“Did anyone suspect foul play?” Sophie got up and came around the desk. “We need to get a murder board going. Okay if we do it in my office? That way if we need something on the computer I can pop over and look it up.”
“Fine. Use the whiteboard on the wall.”
Sophie began a timeline at the top of the board with the month and year of each woman’s disappearance, according to Blumfield. She turned to Dunn, frowning. “Is it possible that any of these women might have fled, like Sharon did, and just be hiding?”
“Blumfield didn’t think so, if you recall. But I suppose that’s a possibility. I bet that’s what Jackson will say if we confront him about these disappearances.”
“And that brings up an interesting question.” Sophie capped her marker. “Is it murder if the victim voluntarily committed suicide?”
“How voluntary could it be in a setting like that?” Dunn said. His sleek metal pen had reappeared. He spun it helicopter-style around his fingers. “I’d say it’s inherently coercive, but we don’t have to determine that—we can let the district attorney and Hilo PD figure that out. At the very least they have an illegally buried body under the vegetables, the accountant whose rooska suicide was witnessed by the cult. We find that body, and we can boost it as evidence to Hilo PD. Once they have a search warrant, they could bring in ground-penetrating radar and scent dogs and look for the other bodies.”
“But how are we going to get back in there and look for the body?”
“You leave that to me.” Dunn winked. “Now, what did you come up with on Jackson?”
“Interesting background. He is the son of a pair of medical doctors who spent their lives overseas, working in hot spots doing humanitarian aid. They were killed during a coup in Africa when he was twelve. An impressionable age, it turns out. He was shipped back to the United States to an aunt and uncle, where he had his revelation about accelerated reincarnation and began his spiritual quest.” Sophie went back behind her computer and read off her notes. “Jackson studied in ashrams in India and Nepal. He mastered many forms of yoga and other spiritual practice, and began to gain followers. He has a group of six “elders,” and they seem to do the main running of the Society of Light empire—which is quite lucrative.” She read off some statistics. “Their tax return revenue last year as a nonprofit was ten million.”
Dunn whistled. “And where does that money come from?”
“Franchises of his Society of Light yoga studios, curriculum, workshops, swag, and merchandise—and from donations from the Society’s members. All members living in the group settings turn over their income to the cult for the duration.”
“Any malcontents out there we can talk to? Preferably in Hawaii?”
“As a matter of fact, there are. Several members who left Waipio have started blogs. There’s one here in Honolulu. Peter Corbett.” Sophie swung her monitor, and Dunn got up to lean in and look. “Seems a bit angry.”
“I’ll say.” The website featured a pulsing skull and a rambling rant against both the Society of Light and law enforcement, for not taking Corbett’s numerous complaints seriously. “Seems like someone we can talk to in person. Ready for a field trip?”
Sophie stood. Stretched. Locked eyes with Dunn. “What I really need is an exercise break. Ever done any mixed martial arts?”
Chapter Twelve
The gym at Security Solutions was state-of-the-art. Nautilus machines lined the walls along with treadmills, stairclimbers, ellipticals, and bikes. A free weights section filled one corner, and in the middle of the room was a roped-off sparring ring. The space was empty in the late afternoon, sunlight pouring in through the windows.
Sophie came out of the women’s locker room in her fight gear: tight-fitting shorts, an exercise bra, a padded helmet similar to what bikers wear, and split-fingered, padded gloves.
Dunn was already up in the ring, jumping to loosen his muscles and moving with nervous energy. He was an impressive sight in a tight tank and loose nylon shorts, his chiseled frame moving with the restless grace that was such a part of him.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His gunmetal eyes were worried and sincere as Sophie climbed into the ring.
Sophie smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that.” If he hadn’t heard about her fighting, she wasn’t about to tell him. She’d have the women’s middleweight MMA title for Oahu right now if the FBI had allowed her to compete, having trounced the champion several times in non-competition bouts.
“Well, like I said, I haven’t done MMA officially. But I’ve done some jiu-jitsu and boxing. And of course, hand-to-hand.”
“We’ll use all that. Basically, you want to get me on the mat and hold me there until I thump. And vice versa. Ready?” Sophie bent her knees, smiling, her arms loosely spread.
“Ready.” And he came at her like a hurricane.
Sophie dodged, getting a sense of his style, which was much like his personality: a lot of force upfront, easy to see coming. She bobbed and weaved as he continued to swing and try to grab, while she sneaked in body blows that stole his breath and turned him red with unspent frustration.
Done toying with him, Sophie swept his legs out from under him and straddled him from the side, her powerful thighs twisting back his arm. He writhed and cursed in impotent fury, trying to get loose, but she tightened her grip, going very still.
She could keep this up all day while he burned energy. He thrashed and struggled, but contorted on the padded mat in a hold he couldn’t break, he eventually thumped.
Sophie immediately let him up and sprang to her feet, and it was a good thing because he lashed out a kick from the mat right where her head would have been, catching her hard in the side. She flew backward as he shot to his feet and followed up with a series of jabs. She evaded them and sneaked in another kick to the back of his knee, knocking him to a kneeling position—and then she jumped on his back and slammed him face-first into the mat.
Dunn filled the room with a rich stream of creative curses, and dug his fingers into her thigh. “Let me up, woman, damn it!”
“Not until you thump.”
He punched her thigh, hard. It was going to leave a bruise. “Unacceptable, Dunn.” She wrenched his arms harder, and twisted. He yelled, an inarticulate howl of pain, and she let go and leapt back out of range.
Dunn didn’t get up this time, though. He just lay there, face down, arms twisted in the position she’d left him in. His muscled back heaved with his hard breathing. Had she hurt him? It should have been painful—that arms-back restraint hold was a bitch—but not injuring. Not tearing anything essential.
“Jake.” Sophie bent over, touched his shoulder. “You okay?”
She didn’t even have time to suck a breath before she was slammed onto her back. He jumped up and came down above her, his bent arm at her throat.
“Do you give?” Dunn rasped, his face red. His gray eyes glowed with fury. Sophie nodded, and touched her throat reflexively as her diaphragm got going.
Dunn was a dirty fighter, and he didn’t like losing. It was something to keep in mind.
Pulling up in front of cult malcontent Peter Corbett’s address the next morning in the tan Security Solutions SUV, Dunn slanted Sophie a glance. “You sore today? Cause I sure as hell am.”
“A little.” Sophie smiled. “Especially where you punched me in the thigh. Not a gentleman move, Dunn.”
“You could have warned me you were one of the top MMA fighters in the state, which I found out when I searched you and found out you’re the reigning champ at Fight Club. Not a gentlewoman, Ang. I needed every sneaky trick I could come up with just to reclaim my manhood.” Dunn’s dark mood was gone—in fact, it had been gone within minutes of their bout in the ring. He was like weather in Hawaii—blowing in fierce at times, but usually sunny.
“Like it would have mattered. I’d have beat you the same.”
“But I wouldn’t have been as surprised at how good you are. Or as piss
ed off when I lost.” Dunn grinned. “I totally get why Remarkian pounced on you the minute he heard you left the FBI.”
“Took you long enough to appreciate my skills.”
“That’s not the only thing I appreciate.” Dunn kept his eyes front as he put the SUV in park in front of a beige apartment building on a seedy street in west Honolulu. Last night’s rainfall had knocked plumerias off the trees at the entrance, and flowers dotted the damp asphalt, browning pinwheels that scented the air. “I’ve never seen you so much as glance at yourself in the mirror, let alone fuss with lipstick like a normal woman—and you always look amazing.”
“I thought I told you no more of that kind of talk,” Sophie said.
“What, now I can’t even give my partner an honest compliment?” Dunn threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll never say another nice thing to you. Wart-ridden hag.”
Sophie laughed and got out of her side of the vehicle.
Corbett’s building had a trashed-looking old elevator so they took the stairs. Sophie followed Dunn. She could have reciprocated the compliment he’d given her: Dunn looked incredible too, and while aware of his charm, didn’t seem vain. She certainly didn’t mind the view ahead as she followed him up the stairs.
She’d slept wonderfully well the night before, the depression beaten further back by an exchange with the Ghost.
He’d sent an encrypted email. “Hear you’re no longer with the FBI. Dare I hope you join me someday in dealing justice to those who won’t ever be caught by normal means? I’ll be on at the usual place at nine p.m. your time.”
She’d felt a noticeable mood lift as she logged into the anonymous chat room at nine p.m., relieved to be distracted from how bare and ugly her new apartment was even after her trip to Target. Ginger, curled at her feet, was the best thing about it.
“You making me a job offer?” Sophie typed, smiling. The sunset was long gone, but ambient light from the city lit the sky with a warm glow, her only illumination besides the glowing screen.