Absalom wasn’t stupid.
He’d found his way here, and he planned to accomplish his goal. Wren stopped at the edge of the lot, turning to look at the building.
Honor’s room was three stories up, the curtains billowing out of the open window. Someone had turned on the light, and he could see a man standing with his back to the shattered glass.
“It’s a clear view,” he said.
“Yes, but he would have had to know what room to look at. I can’t see who’s standing in that window. Or, in any of the other ones.”
“Someone fed him information,” Radley muttered, disgusted by the thought.
“I wonder if he has any connections in the police department? We’ll do some digging and find out. For now, we need to stop the outflow of information.”
“It will be easier to do that when we’re on our own turf.”
“I agree,” Wren said, still staring at the blown-out window. “I’ve asked the state police to dust for prints in Absalom’s home. Specifically, his bathroom. His name isn’t in the system, but I have a feeling he hasn’t always been on the right side of the law. He was probably the last person to touch the sink and shower faucets. If he left clear prints, we might get a match to another name.”
“Prints would be good. Finding him would better.”
“Right,” she agreed.
Rain was still falling, splashing in puddles and seeping into cracked asphalt. There were no bullet casing that Radley could see, but someone had stuck a small flag in the grass nearby. He walked to it, eyed a depression in the soil next to the flag.
“It looks like an officer has been here.”
“And, flagged that for an evidence team.” Wren pulled out a Maglite and aimed it at the spot. “Someone was standing here for long enough to leave an impression.” The light swept across the grassy expanse that stretched from the asphalt to a line of trees. “Look.” She focused the light on a barren spot, the muddy earth tamped down by what looked like the heel of a shoe.
“He came through the trees,” Radley said. And, he’d left through them. Probably disappearing into the shadows of the forest before the first police officer ran across the parking lot.
Radley walked to the patch of mud, crouching near it, water dripping down his chin and splashing onto the ground. “It looks like a boot.”
“It’s definitely not a sandal,” Wren commented.
“Sandal?”
“I figured the leader of a spiritual sanctuary might be into sandals and robes.”
“His paramilitary guards weren’t.”
“So, maybe he was driven here by one of his devoted followers. He certainly didn’t walk to the hospital.”
“But, he walked through those trees to get to it. And, he could still be walking. How about we go take a look?” he suggested, already walking toward the trees.
This he knew how to do.
Hunt down bad guys. Bring them in. Assure their victims’ safety, sanity, peace of mind.
No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t change the past.
Not his. Certainly not anyone else’s.
But, he could change the future.
He could make it easier for those who’d suffered to move forward and live free of fear by finding the people who’d abused, hurt, taken advantage of them.
He couldn’t wipe out memories or make the pain of loss disappear, but he could make certain that justice was done, that victims had closure, that one less monster was loose on the world.
He’d do that now, and then he’d do what he’d promised Dotty. He’d bring Honor home.
EIGHT
An hour passed.
Two.
Honor sat in a chair, back to the wall, a file folder in her lap. Henry had handed it to her as soon as they’d found a safe room, telling her that Wren had gathered information about The Sanctuary and wanted her to read it.
She suspected they’d both wanted her occupied.
She didn’t do well sitting around waiting. She liked action. Even if that action was finding her way through computer systems and following cyber-trails.
So, she’d read the file through six times, attempting to find something that would help her understand what had happened to Mary Alice. Knowing that should be the key to figuring out Absalom’s motives.
There was nothing.
Just pages of information about the way Absalom’s community worked. His philosophy. His religion. His dogma. General estimates of the size of his followers, the numbers and demographics. Risk assessment.
None of it pointed at murder as high on Absalom’s agenda.
But he’d tried to kill her.
To keep Mary Alice from leaving?
Maybe, but murder was a huge risk, and Absalom seemed risk averse. If he’d wanted Honor dead, he could have killed her while she was unconscious in the yurt. He’d let her live, and she could only assume that was because he’d wanted her to die naturally, make her death look like a tragic result of the accident and resulting infection.
She shuddered, eying the IV bag, the fluid still dripping into her arm. She’d asked to have it removed. So far, the request hadn’t been granted.
“Staring at it won’t make it disappear,” Henry said, not looking up from a book he was reading.
He was just a few feet away, sitting to the right of the door. Facing the window even though heavy drapes covered it. He hadn’t left the room since they’d entered, hadn’t used his phone, hadn’t tried to contact Wren or Radley.
Honor was chomping at the bit to do both.
“I don’t know how you can be so calm,” she muttered, setting the file on the bed beside her.
“I’m not the one who was shot at,” he replied, closing the book and meeting her eyes. He had dark eyes, fair skin, black hair with a hint of gray at the temple. She’d seen photos of his daughters on his desk at work, both of them black-haired pixies with big blue eyes.
“Your wife must have had blue eyes,” she said without meaning to. His smile remained, but something shifted in his eyes, and she knew she’d crossed a professional line.
“I’m sorry. That’s really none of my business,” she said hurriedly.
“It’s okay.” He brushed off her apology. “She did have blue eyes. The girls inherited them. I guess you’ve seen the pictures I keep on my desk.”
“Yes, but like I said, not my business. Sorry. Again.”
“You apologize a lot, Honor.”
“I do?”
“It’s something I’ve noticed about you when you’re presenting your findings to the team. It always surprised me, because you are thorough and your presentations are well-organized and interesting.”
“I...have no idea how to respond to that,” she admitted. She didn’t think she was more prone to apology than anyone else, but she’d never listened to one of her presentations. She knew she’d spent a lot of her adolescent years apologizing for bumping into people, knocking things over, getting in the way. Her head had always been filled with questions, her mind teeming with thoughts. Even then, she’d been caught up in the cyber world, losing herself in technology because it had been easier to understand than her peers.
“It’s just an observation,” he replied, setting the book on a table and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “There’s no need to respond. I only noticed because my wife used to apologize all the time. She was a programmer, her head wrapped up in all kinds of things I couldn’t understand. I guess I just noticed your habit, because she had the same one. I wondered if it was something to do with being in the computer industry.”
“For me, it’s more to do with being in my own head too much. I tend to knock things over and bump into people unintentionally,” she admitted, and he smiled.
“My wife did, too.”
“I doubt she was any match for me. I must
have broken twenty glasses a year when I was a kid. It drove my uncle crazy.”
“Bennett Remington, right?” he asked, and she nodded, not surprised that he knew her uncle’s name.
“He’s good at what he does,” Henry commented, not even a hint of judgment in his face or his tone.
“Very.”
“How does he feel about what you do?”
“My father was a police officer, so my career path seemed like a natural choice. I’m sure my uncle would agree,” she said, because she had no idea how Bennett felt about what she did. He hadn’t been involved in helping her choose the right college or the right career path. As a matter of fact, since she’d graduated high school, he’d mostly stayed out of her life.
“But, you don’t know?”
“No, I don’t.”
He nodded, watching her with a steady gaze that made her wonder what he was seeing. “What?” she finally asked, and he shrugged.
“Just curious.”
“About?”
“A man who doesn’t have any say in the life of the woman he helped raise.”
“Bennett has a busy high-stress career. He doesn’t have time to worry about other people.”
“I’d hate for my girls to say that about me one day,” he commented, and she shrugged.
“Because you care about your daughters. Bennett cares about himself.”
The phone beside the bed rang, and she jumped about a foot, her heart nearly leaping from her chest.
“Who could that be?” she asked, as if Henry could possibly know.
He lifted the receiver, pressed it to his ear.
“Hello?” He waited, nodded. “Yes, she is. Can I ask who’s calling?” He listened, put his hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Mary Alice Stevenson.”
She nearly snatched the phone from his hands, her grip clumsy because of the bandages, her heart still pounding riotously as she pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Honor?” Mary Alice said.
“Yes! I can’t believe it’s you! I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks!” she nearly shouted, her voice trembling with relief and fear and joy.
“I know. I’m sorry. I should never have run away from my problems. I should have just sat down and talked to you and my parents.”
“What’s going on, Mary Alice? Whatever it is, I’ll help you find a way out of it.”
“It’s complicated and stupid. Just a dumb mistake I should have known better than to make.”
“Are you at home?” Honor jabbed the nurse’s call button on the bed rail. She was getting the IV out, she was finding a ride and she was going to wherever Mary Alice was.
“No, I’m calling from a training center in Saugus. It’s called—”
“The Spiritual Awakening Learning Center?”
“How did you know?”
“I told you, I’ve been trying to track you down. Your parents were worried when you said you weren’t returning from your retreat. They asked me to check it out.”
“I wish they hadn’t gotten you involved.”
“We grew up together. We’re best friends. Of course they got me involved.” She jabbed the call button again. “And, of course, I came looking for you. Even though you’ve barely spoken to me since you called off your wedding.”
“I’m sorry about that. I really am.”
“I don’t need an apology. I just want to know that you’re all right.”
“I am, and I’ll explain everything when we see each other, okay? I know it won’t make things better, but I owe you that.”
“We’ll be seeing each other as soon as I can hitch a ride to Saugus. I should be there in a few hours. Stay there until I arrive, okay?”
“I don’t have a choice. The FBI raided the facility a few hours ago. They’re keeping us all until we’ve been questioned.”
“Is that why you called?” Honor asked, some of her excitement fading. She’d hoped that Mary Alice had reached out because she’d missed their friendship.
“No! I’ve been wanting to call, but they take everything when you arrive, and the only phone in this place is in a locked office. I’ve been trying to get to it for a week. This has been my first chance. I called my parents, and they told me you’d been hospitalized. Your Uncle Bennett called Dotty to let her know, and she called the church prayer chain. You know how that works.”
“Yes. I do.”
“My parents called Bennett, and he was able to tell them what hospital you’d been admitted to. I’m so sorry, Honor. This is all my fault.”
“Of course, it’s not. I chose to come out here.” She reached for the button again, and Henry grabbed her wrist, his grip loose and gentle.
“I don’t think they’ll appreciate you hitting that button again,” he said.
Right. They wouldn’t, and she didn’t want to irritate the people she was hoping would hurry up and get to the room.
“I’ll make this up to you, Honor. I will. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t know why I didn’t just come to you at the beginning of all this.”
“Of all what?” she asked.
“I’ve got to go. Someone else wants to use the phone. I love you, sweetie.” She disconnected, and Honor stood with the phone still pressed to her ear, tethered by the IV pole and wondering just what her friend had been hiding.
“If you’re thinking of making a run for the door,” Henry said quietly. “Don’t. I’d feel compelled to stop you, and I don’t want there to be any hard feelings between us because of it.”
“Why would you think I would make a run for it?”
“Because you’re staring at the door and you look ready to sprint.”
“Ready, maybe. But probably not prepared to do it.” She tried to smile, easing back into the chair and telling herself to relax. There was nothing she could do until the IV was removed.
Except sit and fret about things she couldn’t change.
Like the fact that Mary Alice was in Saugus, and she wasn’t.
“I hope she’s okay,” she murmured, picking at the tape on her arm again, and telling herself not to push the nurse’s call button for the third or fourth or fifth time.
“Will it make you feel better if I make a few phone calls? See if I can get an agent involved in keeping an eye on her?” he asked, pulling a phone from his pocket.
“That sounds an awful lot like getting someone to spy on her.”
“And?”
“We’re best friends. It doesn’t seem right to sic the FBI on her. Besides, I trust her to do what she said she would.”
“You can’t have it both ways, Honor.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t trust her to do what she told you and worry about her not doing it at the same time.”
She thought about that for a minute.
Decided he was wrong, because she felt both those things—certain Mary Alice would stay at the facility and concerned that she wouldn’t.
“What may be impossible for other people has apparently proven very possible for me,” she finally said, and he grinned.
“I keep telling my daughters nothing is impossible if you believe. I guess you’ve just proven it. Wait here, I’ll find a nurse. Since, I can see that you’re almost overwhelmingly tempted to push that button again.”
“Thanks, Henry.”
“No problem.” He stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
And, she was alone, staring at the tape, wondering if she could pull out the IV without passing out.
She’d never been super wimpy about blood.
Then again, she’d never been overly brave about it either.
But, if she could get the IV out, she’d be one step closer to leaving the hospital and getting to Saugus.
She
was about to yank the tape off when the door swung open.
She expected Henry, and she didn’t bother looking up. She’d set her course, and she planned to follow through.
On three, she told herself.
One.
Two.
“Don’t even think about it,” Radley said, his voice so surprising she screamed. Only it sounded more like the high-pitched squeal Wilbur used when he wanted out of his pen. Maybe a little more frantic and a whole lot louder.
“You scared me half to death,” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest, because she was certain her heart was going to jump out of it.
“I scared you? You’re the one who’s trying to pull a needle out of your vein.” He crossed the room, pressed the tape back into place. “The nurse will be here in a minute. She’ll take this out, and then we’re hitting the road.”
Water dripped down his face, splashing onto the floor at his feet. He was soaked to the skin, his lips nearly blue from cold, and she forgot about Mary Alice, the IV, the need to hurry.
“You’re freezing. You shouldn’t have stayed out there so long,” she chided, grabbing a blanket and trying to toss it around his shoulders. The bandages and IV got in the way, but she finally managed, pulling the edges together in front of his chest and pressing them into his hand. “Hold this. I’ll get a towel from the bathroom.”
“Don’t bother. Some of Officer Wallace’s men found my duffel and your backpack at The Sanctuary. They’re bringing them here. I’ll dry off and change when they arrive.”
She ignored him, grabbing a towel and returning to his side. She used it to dab at his hair and his cheeks, wipe water from the back of his neck. His skin was cold to the touch, and if her hands hadn’t been bandaged, she’d have rubbed warmth into his arms and shoulders.
“Honor, stop,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear. He took the towel from her hands to emphasize the point, dropping it on the table, his expression grim and hard.
“What’s wrong? Did you find Absalom? Was Wren hurt? What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, searching his eyes, trying to find answers there.
“We didn’t find him, Wren is fine, and I’ve told you everything I know.”
Dangerous Sanctuary Page 10