When they were finished, Krieger tapped his pen against the pad of paper. “So, you personally saw the Crawfords and Gerald Evans and Luisa Cox.”
“Yes,” said Wren.
“And you were told that Annabelle Tucker and Martin Hicks were off in their own house somewhere, having already had their superbaby?”
“Yeah.”
“Why wouldn’t we have found that they owned property when we were looking for them?” said Krieger, getting up off the bed. “Do you think he puts the houses in his own name?”
“Maybe,” said Reilly. “We didn’t get into that.”
“What about Scott Irving and Hanna Gomez?”
“Oh, yeah, they were there too,” said Reilly. “They were at breakfast.”
“Right, Scott called him,” said Krieger, pacing in front of the bed. “Okay, um, Johnny Riviera?”
“No, no mention of him.”
“And Harmony Peterson? The person who started all this?”
“No mention of her either,” said Wren.
“Hmm.” Krieger sat back down on the bed.
They were all quiet.
“Well, we can’t just take his word for it,” said Wren. “He seems wildly unstable, and I don’t know if we can trust anything that the people are saying who are in that house. He could be forcing them to lie. It’s typical for people in cults to give answers that sound more palatable to outsiders. They’re taught that people who aren’t within the fold can’t understand, and that lying is the best thing they can do. So, for all we know, he’s not artificially inseminating anyone. For all we know, it’s a harem.”
“Not illegal,” said Krieger. “We can’t bust him for that.”
“As long as it’s consensual,” said Wren, “and if they’re lying for him, I’d warrant it’s not.”
“Even still, that’s going to be hard,” said Krieger. “I don’t know what we’re indicting him for. Sex trafficking, maybe? But… even that… hard to make it stick.”
“I don’t think we should give up,” said Wren.
“No,” said Reilly. “No, we’ve come too far at this point. Just because there’s no bodies—”
“Harmony Peterson called the police because she was in fear for her life,” said Krieger. “So, there’s more going on here. We’ll hunt this down. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Absolutely,” said Wren.
“I’m going to look into this Jim and Anna they were talking about,” said Krieger. “I bet I can cross reference the names amongst people who were at Love Over Want and track them down.”
“Great,” said Reilly.
“Once I do, we’ll go out and talk to them,” said Krieger. “You two up for that?”
“Absolutely,” said Wren.
“Definitely,” said Reilly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“YES, I’m Jim McDonald,” said the man on the other side of the door. He was probably in his mid-thirties, a little soft around the middle. He had a goatee and he was wearing a Star Wars t-shirt.
“Clive Krieger, FBI,” said Krieger, showing him his badge. “These are my associates, Wren Delacroix and Caius Reilly. We have some questions for you. Can we come in?”
“Uh… okay.” Jim moved away from the door, looking bewildered.
Krieger walked inside and Wren and Reilly brought up the rear.
Jim shut the door behind them. “Can I ask you what this is about?”
“Paul Watkins,” said Krieger.
“Oh,” said Jim. “Okay.”
They had entered into a small hallway. It opened onto a kitchen, which was messy—sink full of dishes, stove needing cleaning.
There was a baby in a high chair, face smeared with food, and a woman leaning against the counter, clothes smeared with similar food to what was on the baby’s face. She was clutching a cup of coffee. “Um… Jim?”
“It’s the FBI, baby,” said Jim’s voice, reedy and thin.
“The… the what?” said the woman.
“You Anna McDonald?” said Krieger.
“They’re here about Paul,” said Jim.
“Oh, God.” Anna set down the coffee cup, leaped across the kitchen, and got the baby out of the high chair. She clutched the child close. “You’re not taking our baby. I don’t care what you think you need to do—”
“No, of course not,” said Krieger. “We only want to ask a few questions, that’s all.”
“It’s important you tell us everything,” said Wren. “Tell us the truth, no matter what Paul may have told you to do.”
“What do you want to know?” Anna was not letting go of the baby.
“That child is the biological offspring of Paul Watkins?” said Krieger.
“Well… yes,” said Jim. “But my name is on the birth certificate, so he has no legal claim on the child, and he’s promised not to attempt to exercise any paternal rights. We needed a way to have a baby, and this was free.”
“You have no idea how difficult and expensive infertility can be,” said Anna.
“Did you have intercourse with Paul?” said Wren.
“Absolutely not!” said Jim, his voice finding strength at last.
“Anna?” said Wren. “Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true,” said Anna. “He never touched me. I never touched him. Honestly, we weren’t pleased at the stipulation that we live with him during the pregnancy. We thought the whole thing was really weird.”
“Super weird,” said Jim. “But we talked to the other couples who’d gone through it, and they hadn’t had any issues. So, we figured we had to give it a shot, anyway.”
“And it did work out,” said Anna. “It was just like he said.”
“Really?” said Wren. “You can tell us, you know. You won’t be in any trouble, and your child won’t be in any trouble.”
“Really,” said Anna.
“Did you ever feel as though your lives were in danger?” said Krieger.
“Did he ever threaten you?” said Reilly.
“No, and no,” said Jim. “In fact, we negotiated with him. He wanted to buy us this house and put it in his name, but we didn’t want that, so we actually took a down payment from him as a gift, and we financed it ourselves. We obviously don’t believe that his offspring are special in any way—”
“No,” said Anna. “That was really weird.”
“At the same time, there didn’t seem to be anything, you know, wrong with his sperm,” said Jim.
“No,” said Anna. “It was an amazing opportunity for us, because not only would we be able to have a free solution to our infertility issues but we’d also be financially compensated. It almost seemed too good to be true. And maybe it was, because now you’re here. Did we do something wrong?”
Krieger hesitated. He looked at Wren.
Reilly stepped forward. “We’re doing an investigation is all. If there is wrongdoing, we want to uncover it.”
“And it’s not you we’re investigating,” said Wren. “It’s Paul Watkins.”
“Well, he was weird,” said Anna, shrugging. “But overall, pretty harmless.”
“Completely harmless,” agreed Jim. “A few screws loose upstairs, I think, but not a bad guy.”
THE rest of the weekend, they checked into aspects of what Watkins had told them. They found out that Martin Hicks and Annabelle Tucker were, indeed, alive and well, but they had not been discoverable before because they hadn’t been working and their house was in Watkins’s name. The couple would not speak to them, but they were observed leaving their house (along with their child) to go to the grocery store.
It was becoming very clear that no one was dead.
Well, except Harmony Peterson.
No one knew anything about her.
With no new leads to pursue, they began to regret outing themselves as FBI agents to the McDonalds. Surely, they would have spoken to Watkins about it, and everyone would know now.
It probably wasn’t even worth it to try to go to Love Over Wan
t come Monday. They’d be barred from entry for sure.
And sure enough, when they got off the bus, Doug was waiting for them, arms crossed over his chest.
But what he said was, “I don’t think we want journalists on the property. I’m very sorry, but we’ve worked hard to keep certain things quiet here, and if you intend to ruin that, we can’t abide your presence here.”
So, they were still journalists. Wren smiled brightly. “We only want to get to the truth of the story here. We’re happy to provide positive press for the Order of the West Temple if we discover positive aspects about the place.”
“Which we have,” spoke up Reilly.
“Yes, but you’ve been with Paul,” said Doug. “And I want you to know, first of all, whatever he’s doing, it’s not affiliated with us. When he called me to let me know about you two, that was the first I’d heard of this weird scheme he’s got going on. I don’t condone it, and I told him that he’s not allowed to use Love Over Want as his hunting grounds anymore. I’ve also told him that he’s no longer welcome to volunteer for the staff here.”
“Well, we’ll report that,” said Wren. “What Paul is doing… it’s unorthodox and it’s a little strange, but it’s not… well, we haven’t found any real evidence of true wrongdoing.”
“We’re trying to be fair here,” said Krieger.
Doug looked them over. “But you came out here because you were investigating people who went missing.”
“Yes, but most of them are fine,” said Krieger. “Actually, do you have any memory of a woman named Harmony Peterson?”
“There are so many people who pass through these doors,” said Doug. “I couldn’t possibly remember them all.”
“This one brought the police to your door because she called for help.”
“Oh,” said Doug, nodding slowly. “Yes, I do remember. That was very upsetting, all of that. Obviously, I have no idea what happened to her. I know the police looked everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found. And I know that she did make a call that originated in our facility. And yet… poof.” He shuddered. “That actually still haunts me to this day. I know that she had problems with an ex-husband, however. I fear he could have tracked her out here, done something with her.”
Wren wasn’t sure what to make of that. Up until now, she had not been suspicious of Doug, but she had to admit that the fact that he was offering up some other solution to the disappearance of Harmony Peterson, it set off alarms inside her head.
Furthermore, if he knew all about her ex-husband, if he were really so haunted, what were the odds he actually didn’t remember her name?
Wren cocked her head to one side. “Well, who else was in the facility at the time?”
“I couldn’t say. It was a long time ago,” said Doug.
“Was Paul in the facility?” said Wren. “Did Paul want Harmony to have one of his superbabies?”
“I couldn’t tell you that either,” said Doug. “I suppose you’d have to ask Paul that.” He sighed. “Well, the bus has left. You’ll have to call a taxi or something, I guess.”
“You won’t answer any more questions for us?” said Krieger.
“I don’t think I have anything to tell you,” said Doug.
“It’s hot out here,” said Reilly. “Couldn’t we wait for the taxi inside the air conditioning?”
Doug sighed heavily. Then he shrugged. “Why not? You can even have a final breakfast in the cafeteria, I suppose. But you can’t come back.”
“Thanks,” said Wren, happy to be accepted back into the building.
“I’ll escort you in,” he said.
THEY sat together in a corner, heads together.
“What if this is an isolated murder?” said Krieger. “I never investigated it that way. I mean, the local police opened a file on it, and they did a little legwork, but not even enough to uncover this ex-husband. There was nothing there when I showed up.”
“If there really is an ex-husband,” said Wren.
“You think Doug’s making it up?” said Krieger. “You suspect Doug of something?”
“I don’t know,” said Wren. “But the way he reacted, pulling out that nice and tidy answer to what happened to Harmony Peterson, it just… it rubbed me the wrong way.”
“She’s got good instincts about this stuff,” said Reilly.
“Well, what are we going to do?” said Krieger. “Our cover is practically blown. We can’t come back, at any rate.”
“You’re right,” said Wren. “We need to get back in.”
“We pull our badges and demand he lets us talk to people,” said Reilly.
“Can’t we get a warrant?” said Wren. “If you’re here undercover, then there’s enough belief that something’s going on here, at any rate, to make someone think it’s worth looking into.”
“What are we going to find with a warrant?” said Krieger. “You guys worked the laundry here. You’ve been all over this place. There’s nothing to find.”
They were all quiet.
“You know, as much as I hate to admit it,” said Krieger, “we might be grasping at straws here. I think we’ve invested a lot of time and effort and we want something to be here, but… in the end… there’s nothing.”
“You saying we should go home?” said Reilly.
“Maybe,” said Krieger.
Wren took a bite of her vegetarian sausage—which was surprisingly tasty. She chewed, thinking it over. It was true that they had been all over the place. They’d found the robes and then they— “The robes,” she breathed.
“What?” said Krieger.
“If they’re so intent on keeping it a secret that this place is associated with the Order of the West Temple, why do they have those robes hanging in that closet?” said Wren.
Both of the men regarded her, furrowing their brows.
“They must have rituals here,” said Reilly.
“Exactly,” said Wren. “Something is not adding up.”
The cafeteria was emptying out as the other workers left go to their various jobs.
Doug reappeared, coming over to stand over their table. “Did you call a taxi?”
“A Lyft,” said Reilly, holding up his phone to show him the app. “It’s going to be another thirty minutes or so, looks like.”
“Thirty minutes?” said Doug.
“We know you do rituals here on site,” said Wren.
Doug bent over the table, resting his palms so that he could be eye-level with Wren. “What are you talking about?”
“Those robes,” said Wren. “We know what you use them for.”
“Oh, do you?” said Doug.
“We want to attend,” said Wren. “When’s the next time you’re doing one?”
“You can’t attend,” said Doug. “That’s the last thing we want getting out to the press.”
“We’ll participate,” said Wren.
“Um, what?” said Krieger.
“Well, Cai and I,” said Wren.
Reilly’s eyebrows shot up.
“I mean, it’s all consensual, right, so there’s no way we’d be required to have partners besides each other, is there?”
Doug sat down at the table. “You want to participate in one of our rites? Truly, fully participate?”
Wren nodded. “We do.”
Doug eyed her. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“I think it would allow us to get a certain perspective for our article,” said Wren. “And if we participate, then we’ll be subjected to whatever ridicule you’re frightened that your organization would receive. Besides, I hear that there’s nothing all that shocking about it, not in the end, and if that’s true, then why would you be ashamed?”
“It’s not about shame,” said Doug. He stroked his chin. “You know, I’ve just remembered something about Harmony Peterson. The night she called the police, there was a rite.”
“There was?” said Wren.
“Yes,” said Doug. “Perhaps it was someone involved in the organizat
ion who did her harm. Perhaps that might help with your investigation, having access to those people.”
“I hardly think people are going to want to be interviewed during a, um, a… rite,” said Reilly. Wren noted that his voice had gotten a little strained.
“Oh, they’ll all be much more comfortable that you will be, I’m sure,” said Doug, laughing. “Yes, as a matter of fact, there will be one tonight.”
“Tonight? Really?” said Wren. “That’s… wow, what a coincidence.”
“You may come and participate,” said Doug, “but only if all of you come, Clive included.”
“Me?” said Krieger, touching his chest. “I don’t even… who am I supposed to participate with?”
“You don’t have to engage in any… activity that you don’t wish to engage in,” said Doug. He turned to Wren. “That goes for both of you as well. But you will dress the part, and you will be among the others. You will be with us.”
“Excellent,” said Wren.
Krieger made a noise of disbelief in the back of this throat.
She turned on him. “What? He said you don’t have to have sex with anyone. What’s the problem?”
Krieger just shook his head. “No, no problem. We’ll be back tonight, apparently.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“OKAY, so you’re not comfortable,” Wren was saying. She was in the front seat of the Lyft, leaning back between the seats to talk to Krieger, who was in the back with Reilly. “So, what we’ll do, is Cai and I will come back tonight, and we’ll say you weren’t feeling well.”
“He said we all have to be there,” said Krieger.
“Wren, can we talk about this later?” said Reilly, gesturing to the driver.
“Do you want to back out of doing it?” She turned her gaze onto Reilly, blinking. “In an ideal world I would have asked you before I committed, but you heard what he said. We don’t really have to do anything.”
“Later,” said Reilly. He turned to look out the window.
“Do we need this?” said Krieger. “What do we think we’re going to find from this?”
“Maybe everything,” said Wren. “You heard him. Harmony disappeared after one of their rituals. Maybe when we arrive—”
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