“You can’t imagine the amount of change,” she told Zennia. “I pictured my golden years quilting and enjoying the great outdoors. You and Dana must feel the same way, what with you both working at an organic farm. But if Ryan gets his way, we’ll all have to work shifts filling orders. I’m not cut out for that kind of life.”
A woman I hadn’t met leaned across Zennia toward Pearl. “You know the rules. Everyone has to contribute or else they get kicked out.”
I wondered how the less tech-savvy members of the group would be affected if Ryan’s changes were implemented. Surely there were plenty of other ways to help at the commune. “Has that always been the rule?” I asked.
The woman nodded emphatically. “Since the beginning. Everyone has to help out, no matter how little. We kicked out a member a few years ago, because he wasn’t pulling his weight. What was his name? George?”
Frank started coughing. The woman offered him her water, but he waved her offer away.
His coughing subsided, and the woman said, “Anyway, you need structure and organization. Otherwise the whole plan falls apart. Ever read Lord of the Flies?”
“No, but I’ve heard a bit about it.”
“Same thing. Bunch of kids get stranded on an island with no adults and no guidance. Oh sure, everything’s swell in the beginning, but soon after, the group splinters, and what little organization they have collapses, leading to tragedy.”
“But that book’s fiction,” I said, slightly alarmed at her grim picture of the future.
“Yes, but it’s based on human behavior.” She tapped her temple. “I know this commune can’t stay together if we allow ourselves to split like those kids on that island. We need to make a decision, and everyone who stays needs to accept and embrace it.”
Pearl shoved her plate away. “I don’t know if that can happen. I’m worried.”
Zennia patted her hand. I glanced over and saw Frank eyeing the four of us. I wasn’t sure if he was listening to the conversation, but if he was, he didn’t join in.
He scooped up another forkful of stew, but then let it fall back on his plate. The fork made a clanking sound as it hit the side of the dish. Several diced vegetables spilled off, but Frank didn’t seem to notice. I followed his gaze toward the other side of the room and almost dropped my own fork.
Detective Palmer stood at the door. He surveyed the occupants one by one, clearly looking for someone in particular.
“What’s he doing here?” Frank growled.
Good question.
Chapter 22
I sensed a ripple effect as people became aware of the detective’s arrival. First, the ones closest to the door stopped talking, followed by the tables farther in. As those diners quieted down, others on my side of the room noticed the change until eventually everyone was staring at Detective Palmer. He must have visited the commune on a previous occasion, because they all seemed to know who he was.
He gave a bemused smile. “Now that I have everyone’s attention, I need to speak with a few of you in private.” He consulted a piece of paper in his hand. “Frank Hamilton, I’ll start with you.” An audible sigh of relief seemed to rise up from the diners.
Frank let out an expletive under his breath, rose from his place at the table, and threw down his napkin. He crossed the now-silent room to join the detective while everyone else watched his progress. Detective Palmer said a few words to him, and they made their way toward the hall. I assumed they were heading to the office where Zennia and I had spoken to Frank on our first visit.
As soon as they went out the door, the room erupted into loud talking.
At my table, Pearl laid a hand on her chest. “Phew, I’m glad he didn’t call my name.”
“I wonder who else is on his list besides Frank,” I said.
She fanned her face, as if she might faint. “Not me, I hope. I couldn’t possibly handle a real-life police detective asking me questions. Besides, I don’t know anything.”
“You’d be surprised how much people know without realizing it.”
Pearl didn’t reply. I looked around the room and noticed Ryan come in the door. He headed straight to the buffet table, where he filled his plate. He scanned the nearby tables, most likely for an empty seat. When his gaze landed on our table, I gave a small wave. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment but looked longingly at an empty chair at the next table, where two children were squabbling over a spoon.
I wasn’t sure if Ryan was more worried that I might harass him about not calling Ashlee or that I might ask him questions about his increasing role at the commune. Either way, he must have decided that facing me was easier than dealing with the kids, because he headed over to my table.
The moment Ryan set his plate down next to Frank’s empty spot, a woman across the table glared at him, grabbed her own plate with its half-eaten meal, and stalked away. I could guess which side of the online sales fight she was on.
I saw a flush creep up Ryan’s neck. “I’m starting to feel like a social pariah these days,” he said.
“Some residents obviously feel strongly about keeping the commune in its current state,” I said.
Ryan’s phone chimed. He tapped a few buttons but kept talking. “What state is that? Broke? If we’re going to survive, they need to accept the change and move forward.”
“Change is hard. A lot of people find it unsettling,” I said. “If that weren’t bad enough, having the detective here is only reminding everyone of Birch’s death.”
Ryan’s head whipped up, and his eyes searched the room. “The detective is here? Now?”
I’d swear I heard a tremor in his voice and wondered at the sudden anxiety. Was there something Ryan didn’t want Detective Palmer to know?
“He’s talking to Frank, but I think he had a list of people to speak with.”
Ryan’s phone chimed again. He read the screen, and then said to me, “I don’t know if I have time to talk to the good detective. I’m a busy guy.” As if to prove his point, he picked up his phone and began texting. After a moment, he put his phone down and checked around his plate. “Forgot my fork.”
He walked away, and I heard the now-familiar chime coming from his phone, which lay on the table. I looked at Ryan’s retreating back. He wasn’t even halfway to the silverware caddy. Beside me, Pearl and Zennia were deep in conversation with the Lord of the Flies lady and paying no attention to me.
Without giving it another thought, I shifted over to Frank’s vacant chair and stretched my neck until I could read the screen on Ryan’s phone. The message said, Count me in. It’s going to be huge. I’ll take the first available cabin.
My head swirled with questions. Was whoever had sent the text talking about a cabin here at the commune? How could Ryan secure one when he was such a newbie? And what was going to be huge?
I reached for the phone to scroll up to the previous messages, but just then, I sensed someone moving closer to me. I glanced up to find Ryan glaring down.
Oops.
I moved back to my own seat and pointed at the phone. “It kept chiming. I thought the message might be important.” Not the best excuse, but it’d have to do.
Ryan snatched up the phone to read the screen, and I’d swear he paled a little. He placed the phone facedown on the table and muttered, “Everything’s fine.” He sat down and took a bite of stew, not looking at me as he ate.
I turned toward Pearl and Zennia and was surprised to see that Pearl was now alone. “Where’s Zennia?”
She motioned to a corner of the room. “Over there. I think she knows someone.”
Across the room, Zennia was surrounded by five or six people I didn’t recognize. She was talking and waving her hands, more animated than I’d seen her in days.
“I think those photos really helped,” I said.
Pearl beamed, reminding me of Esther when anyone praised her. “It was pure luck that I uncovered them. I’ve been collecting old photos for years with the idea that I’d make a giant s
crapbook to record the commune’s history, but I’ve never gotten around to it. I was digging around for an old tea set when I came across a shoebox with the photos. That one where they’re rowing across the pond is my absolute favorite.”
I searched my memory. “I don’t think she showed me that picture.”
“It’s absolutely adorable. I hope I didn’t . . .” Pearl pressed her hand to her cheek. “Oh no, I forgot to bring it. I must have left it on the desk somehow when I was putting the others in the envelope. I’m such a dumb bunny.”
The last sentence flew out of her mouth so casually that I knew she must berate herself on a regular basis. “It could happen to anyone. You can get the photograph now, can’t you?”
“I suppose. Only with my arthritis, it’s becoming such a burden to walk to my cabin. When I moved in all those years ago, I absolutely loved the place, with its seclusion and immersion in nature. But I may need to move to a cabin closer to this building, with all the trouble I’ve had walking lately.” She bit her lip. “Do you think it would be all right if I gave Zennia the picture the next time she’s out here? I know she would love to have it.”
“I’m not sure if she’s coming back. Besides, it seems like a waste not to get it now when we’re already here.” I looked back at Zennia, who was still talking. These photos could be that final bit of closure she needed. “I can get it. I know where your cabin is, and it shouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes to get there and back.”
“I couldn’t ask you to go to all that trouble. I’m the nincompoop who forgot it.”
“I don’t mind. You say it’s on the desk? Do I need a key?”
Pearl shook her head. “Heavens, no. I never bother to lock up.”
“All right. I’ll be back shortly. Do me a favor and let Zennia know where I’ve gone. I don’t want her to worry.” I grabbed my empty plate and silverware and carried them over to the pass-through window where stacks of dirty dinner dishes waited. I glanced back at Pearl on my way out the door. She was poking at her food and frowning, probably giving herself a mental lecture for forgetting the photo. Nearby, Ryan had finished eating and was standing up, plate in hand. I headed out the door.
The temperature outside was considerably cooler than inside the main hall. The breeze hadn’t died down any, and I wished once more that I’d thought to bring a jacket. Maybe the walk to Pearl’s cabin and back would warm me up.
I started across the field at a quick pace, noticing how the sun was much lower in the sky now. The barn where they stored all the jams, quilts, and other goods the commune members sold cast a long shadow across the meadow. When I reached the other side, I hurried up the small slope and turned toward the beehives. The area was eerily quiet.
At the fork in the trail, I paused. Which one had we taken before? The middle one or the one next to it? With Zennia leading the way, I hadn’t paid much attention. Now, in the dim light of dusk, the paths all looked the same.
I considered going back to ask Pearl, but that would waste a lot of time, and the woods would only be getting darker. I decided to forge ahead. If nothing seemed familiar, I’d know that I’d picked the wrong trail. Besides, they all probably met up near the same place. I’d be able to spot Pearl’s cabin easily.
I picked the middle trail and started down the path, noticing how much darker it was here among the trees. Why hadn’t I thought to ask for a flashlight before I’d so gallantly volunteered to retrieve the photo? At least I had a flashlight app on my phone.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I opened the app. Instantly, the surrounding trees and ground lit up under the glare. I resumed my errand.
The ground beneath my feet was bumpy, and I had to keep my phone and my eyes trained downward, while glancing up now and again to see where I was going. After a few minutes, I admitted to myself that I didn’t recognize anything. Surely I would have remembered that fallen tree leaning against that redwood, wouldn’t I?
Quickening my pace, I doubled back to the start and picked another path, positive it was the correct one this time.
A noise in the bushes made me gasp, and I swung the beam of my phone in that direction. I heard what sounded like a small animal scamper away, probably more scared of me than I was of it.
Zennia told me there were most likely no dangerous animals to worry about in these woods.
Still, what if she was mistaken?
I resumed walking and ducked under a low-hanging branch that covered the path. I immediately stopped. I definitely hadn’t encountered this branch on the way to Pearl’s cabin earlier.
With a sigh, I retraced my steps back to the start. At any rate, only one path remained. It had to be the correct one.
A little less confident and a lot more spooked, I headed out, shivering as a bird flew overhead and let out a screech. As I trudged along, following the trail before me, doubt crept in my shoes and crawled up my legs. Had it taken Zennia and me this long to reach the cabin before? Had we walked by this massive tree that blocked out the rapidly dwindling light?
Just as I was thinking about going back to the dining hall empty-handed, I spotted Pearl’s cabin up ahead. Relief made my fingers and toes tingle as I practically skipped to the porch. I bounded up the steps and turned the knob.
As promised, the door was unlocked. A gust of icy wind swept up the porch behind me, and I quickly went in, closing the door.
The inside of the cabin was pitch-black. I kept a firm grip on my phone as I used it to look around the room. A desk sat next to the door, and I spotted the photograph sitting on top. I picked it up. Pearl was right to declare it her favorite. Zennia sat in one end of a rowboat, holding an umbrella, while Birch rowed from the other end. The pond was covered in lily pads, and the whole scene looked like a painting.
A soft thump outside made me freeze. It sounded like a footstep on one of the porch risers. Maybe Pearl had noticed how long I’d been gone and decided to come out here after all.
“Hello?” I called out. My voice squeaked, and I cleared my throat. “Pearl? Is that you?”
Silence.
“Pearl?” I called a little louder.
My heart raced. I could almost sense a presence on the other side of the door, waiting.
The seconds ticked by, while I held my breath. When I didn’t hear anything more, I started to wonder if I’d imagined the sound. God knew I let my imagination run wild at the worst times.
I closed the flashlight app on my phone. The blackness was immediate, save for the tiny dots of light as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I strained to hear, but was only met with more silence. I inched over to the door, eased it open, and peered out.
Nothing but trees. The steps were clear, and the porch was empty. Whatever had made that noise was long gone. Much like I wanted to be.
I carefully slid the photo into my jeans pocket and pulled the door shut. With a last look around the porch, I trotted down the steps and hurried over to the path, which was barely discernible now. I started to work myself up to a jog, knowing I’d been gone way too long. It was a slow jog, though, since I could barely see and didn’t want to risk falling down and spraining an ankle. Then I might be stuck in these woods all night, unless Pearl came looking for me. I forced myself to slow to a brisk walk, my gaze glued to the path.
I heard a sound off in the trees. For a half second, I almost stopped, but I told myself it was a little rabbit, no scarier than Peter Cottontail himself. I didn’t have time to entertain more crazy ideas if I wanted to reach the main building before the sky was completely dark.
Another sound, this one of snapping twigs, did make me halt. Unless that rabbit was exceptionally large, the noise I heard wasn’t coming from a rabbit. I was suddenly aware of how alone I was out here. How close was I to the bees in the meadow? How much time had passed since I’d left Pearl?
A crunch came from almost directly behind me, like someone stepping on a pile of twigs and leaves. A shard of fear pierced my heart. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I tho
ught.
I started to run.
Chapter 23
I careened down the path, half blind with terror. Crashing sounds came from behind me, and I realized that for once, my overactive imagination wasn’t to blame. Someone was chasing me through the woods.
I glanced behind me as I ran, but all I could see were trees. I turned my attention to what was in front of me. Surely I was close to the end of the path by now.
The tip of a branch smacked me on the cheek with a sharp sting. I sensed the path growing narrower, but that couldn’t be right. Had I wandered off the main trail?
The pressure in my chest grew as I blundered ahead, knocking branches out of the way. Twigs clawed at my arms and tried to hold me back.
When my lungs felt like they might explode, I stopped. I strained to listen, but the only sound I could hear was my own gasping. I struggled to breathe deeper and slower, knowing I needed to steady myself before I could run again.
Finally, my breathing started to return to normal. I took a moment to listen again, but the woods were now silent. Maybe whoever was after me had lost track and given up.
Even so, I didn’t know where I was. I needed to find the main building, or a cabin, or anything else that might help me figure out my location. With my ears at the ready for any suspicious sounds, I started walking in what I hoped was the right direction.
Far off to my left, I heard a shout that sent what felt like an electric current through my chest.
Someone was still out there.
I started to trot in the opposite direction from the sound. Could I find my way back to Pearl’s cabin?
Another shout.
I must have been hallucinating, because this time, I recognized my name. There it came again. A man was definitely yelling, “Dana!”
Murder Most Wholesome Page 16