An hour later, they sat at the kitchen table in their robes, eating toast and cereal. Luke thought of his mom and his good mood faded. He felt like he should feel guilty for enjoying some time with Macy, but deep down he knew she wouldn’t want him worrying and fretting for days on end.
“What are you thinking?” Macy asked.
“Maybe we should hand out more fliers today.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that, too. What do you think about going to a different town? By this point, I doubt there’s a single resident who doesn’t know.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll call the station and see if they still have stacks of fliers. Otherwise, we’ll have to get some printed off somewhere. We’re low on ink.”
“Already?”
He nodded and then sipped his coffee.
Macy picked up their plates and rose. “I’ll get in the shower so we can leave soon.”
Luke stood and kissed her. “I’ll call the station. Maybe they even have some news.”
“Let’s hope.” She took the plates to the sink and headed for the bedroom.
He finished his coffee and thought back to his time in the community and tried to picture his mom back there. It hadn’t been horrible, but he had always hoped to find a way out. The strict rules were a lot to deal with for anyone used to society. Shortly after arriving, he’d mistakenly broken their rules and been publicly shamed during a meeting. The entire assembly had chanted about what he’d done wrong, the words echoing all around him for what had felt like hours.
Then once all that stopped, none of the members had been allowed to speak to him for two whole days. It had been quite the shock, but he had never broken any of their rules after that. Not until Macy showed up, that was.
After they met and he saw her determination to escape, it lit a fire in him. By that point, he’d all but given up any hope of escape. He’d thought his only option was to take on the job of a supply runner or something else that would allow him outside the tall, thick spiked walls. But that wouldn’t have been possible until he was done with school.
He snorted. Their “school” had been a joke—merely learning about the commune’s rules, prophecies, and history. By the time he got out of the cult, he was so behind the state standards that he’d had to catch up at home. Luckily with Mom’s help, he was able to get through the material quickly and he managed to get his GED at nineteen.
Luke heard the shower start, and it brought him back to reality. He needed to call the station and find out what was going on. The captain was out, but he spoke with one of the officers from the day before who told him that they were still looking into the information he and Macy had given them, but there was nothing new besides some more missing homeless people.
“Wait,” Luke said, before the officer ended the call. “Do you have fliers we can hand out?”
“Plenty of stacks. Take what you need.”
“Thank you.” Luke ended the call and washed the dishes, thinking about where he and Macy should go to hand out fliers. There were several bigger towns nearby, and if they went farther, they could go to Seattle. They would have plenty of choices where they could hand out the papers to crowds. Or they could go closer to nature and hand them out in more rural areas, closer to wooded areas—where the new community was likely to be. They would surely return to a forest which provided so many opportunities to hide.
After he finished the dishes, someone outside caught his attention. A man wearing a black coat and gray beanie paused in front of the house.
Chills ran down Luke’s back. That was the second time that man had walked by just in the time he’d been doing the dishes. Luke leaned over the sink and studied him, trying to tell if he could recognize him. He was too far away to make out any details. It could have been a neighbor or someone from the community—there was no way to tell with the distance between them.
The man turned and looked straight at Luke.
Playing
Alex leaned back in the folding chair and breathed in the fresh beach air. The sun beat down on him and he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the kids play and the seagulls calling out as they flew overhead. He appreciated the warm spring day, knowing it could turn back to cold without warning—and probably would.
“It’s nice to get away from everything, isn’t it?” Nick asked.
Alex gave a nod, not wanting to open his eyes yet.
Nick pulled a can out of the cooler, spilling some ice onto the sand.
Tsst. “Want a pop?”
Alex sat up and opened his eyes. “Sure, why not?” He pulled a pop out and opened it while watching Ari help Nick’s youngest build a sandcastle. Nick’s oldest was off to the side of them, sunbathing. The only boy of the bunch was at the shore, skipping stones. Alex sipped the cherry soda. “This is nice.”
Nick held out his bottle, and they bumped them together. “That it is.”
“The kids warming up to you at all?”
“Parker keeps complaining about missing Disney World, and Ava’s been throwing me snooty looks ever since I picked them up.”
“I’m sure they’ll chill. They’re probably just testing you to see if everything your ex has been telling them is true.”
“Maybe.” Nick sipped his pop. “I’m beginning to wonder if it’ll take all week to win them over—and then they go right back into the enemy’s hands.”
Nick’s phone rang for the fifth time since they’d arrived.
“You gonna get that?”
He shook his head. “I told the station I’m unreachable for the afternoon and as far as Corrine goes, I’m returning the favor. I let her know the kids got in safely, which is more than she deserves after everything she’s pulled with me. She needs to leave me alone and let me have my time with the kids.”
A group of middle school kids ran by, kicking sand onto them. They shouted and laughed loudly at each other.
“Ava!” called a skinny girl with a big afro.
Nick’s oldest jumped up from her towel and ran over to the group, shrieking and hugging everyone. She followed the group down the beach, just barely in the line of sight without a word to her dad. The kids brought out a Frisbee.
“At least she’s finally having some fun.” Nick set his empty bottle down and opened bag of chips.
Alex nodded. “Looks like Ari and Hanna are, too.”
“Ariana’s so good with her.”
“She can’t wait to start babysitting. There’s a babysitting certification course at the Y she’s begging to take. I think it’s only a matter of time before Valerie and Kenji cave.”
“I’ve heard good things about it.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Alex’s mind wandered, and it only took a minute before he found himself mulling over Lottie’s disappearance. “I know we’re trying to get away from anything, but have you heard anything new on the case?”
Nick raked his hands through his hair. “There are some new missing homeless people, but nothing that points us to where the cult is, or any of the leaders.”
“Maybe we need to go in and talk with them. Somebody has to know something. I can’t believe that with all these missing people, no one else saw or heard anything.”
Nick opened a pop can. “Have you ever considered becoming a cop?”
Alex gave him a double-take. “Me?”
“Yeah. You were the one who made the connection between Lottie and the Meriwether—though you shouldn’t have gone there alone. Your detective work is impressive. We could use someone like you on the force.”
“You don’t want me.”
“Why not?”
Alex shook his head in disbelief. He was an unemployed roofer with no education beyond barely graduating high school. It was a miracle that his own dad had hired him as an assistant.
“You were also a big help when Ari was missing.”
“The only reason I’ve made any difference in either case is because I’m related to the missing people—I have t
he motivation. Why would you possibly want me as an officer? I haven’t been to college. Heck, I still live with my parents.” Alex looked down and ran his fingernail along the indents on the pop can.
“For one thing, you have street smarts. That can’t be taught in a classroom. You also care—your blog proves that much. None of those people are related to you, but you’re advocating for them.”
Alex shrugged. “I guess.”
“Think about it. I’d be proud to hire you.”
“I don’t have any experience.”
“Well, obviously you’d have to go to the academy, but that doesn’t take too long. A hundred bucks says you’d be the top student.”
“Right.” Alex snorted.
“Like I said, think about it.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m gonna go check on Ari.” He got up and helped the two girls with the sandcastle. He gave it enough time for Nick to forget about Alex being a cop.
When he sat back down, Nick was on the phone. He ended the call and turned to Alex. “Tomorrow I’m going to drop the kids off with my mom. She’s dying to see her grandkids.”
“What are you going to do?”
Nick didn’t answer right away. “I’m thinking about questioning Chester Woodran.”
Alex’s blood ran cold. “The psycho who kidnapped Macy? Why?”
“He’s the only former cult member still in custody. There’s a chance he knows something. I’d bet money they’ve been in contact with him.”
“What makes you think he’d tell you anything?”
“If he’s under the impression that it could reduce his sentence.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Alex exclaimed. “He needs to rot in there after what he did!”
Ariana and Hanna turned and stared at them.
“It’s okay,” Nick called. “Keep working on that castle. I’m going to take pictures in a few minutes.”
The girls turned back to their masterpiece.
Nick leaned closer to Alex. “I said Chester might talk if he was under the impression he could get out—he’s in there with no chance of parole, remember.”
“The dude has lawyers working on that, you know.”
“I do know. They’ve also had no luck whatsoever—nor are they going to.”
Alex scowled. “I don’t like it.”
“He’s not getting out.”
“What if he won’t talk unless his sentence is actually reduced? Or he lawyers up? This could just make everything worse. If he is in contact with the others, he’ll tell them you guys know they’re behind the kidnappings. What if they hurt Lottie? Or decide to make Macy their next target? What then?” Alex clenched his fists.
There was no way it could end well if Nick paid Chester Woodran a visit.
Desperate
Lottie crawled along the wall, looking up and down. She’d made it all around the perimeter of the building and had made it back to her spot without finding any hope of escape. No loose boards, nowhere to dig out, no unlocked doors. They had been sealed inside.
Not that she was surprised. Or that she had any energy to try and get out. She collapsed onto the hard ground—hard because the dirt was only there for show. The actual floor was made with wood, sealed tightly against the walls. The soil was only there to get the prisoners covered in filth, and possibly to lessen their morale.
She closed her eyes. Everything ached. It had taken what remained of her energy to pull herself around the building. If there had been a means of escape, she’d have found it. Instead, she was more exhausted and sleepy than ever.
It had been hours since the guards had come in with breakfast—not allowing her any since she’d made a mess of her dinner the night before. What made that even more ironic was that the man who had told her that was the same one who’d kicked the soup from her grasp.
Lottie’s mouth and throat cried out for something to drink. Her stomach had quit grumbling sometime over the night. She was still weak and in dire need of sustenance, but her body seemed to have given up hope that food would come anytime soon.
Tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t going to give into their mind games. They wanted her to give in and succumb to the community’s rules and way of life. If it came down to it, she might pretend to slip into old roles but it would be nothing more than a farce so she could get some food and water. She would pretend to be just about anything at this point. If they asked her to pretend to be a house cat, she’d muster the strength and do just that.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The others turned toward the door. Lottie didn’t so much as move her head. Instead, she focused on her tongue, which was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Footsteps and masculine voices sounded. The aroma of soup wafted over.
Lottie’s mouth watered, freeing her tongue. Her stomach tensed, but it didn’t growl. She kept her eyes closed, having no interest in watching the others eat.
Something pressed against her back. “Sit up.”
She tried, but nothing happened. Not even her eyes would open.
A hard shoe dug into her rib. “I said to get up.”
Lottie pushed on the floor and tried to force herself up. Every muscle in her body ached. A sharp pain shot through her temples. Her eyes fought to stay closed. Finally, she made it to a sitting position and leaned against the wall for support.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Her eyelids were as heavy as a car. She fought to open them. They fought against her.
A fist struck her cheek, the knuckles grazing her nose.
She managed to open her eyes. The man’s face wasn’t even a foot away from hers. His bushy brows furrowed together as he stared at her.
“You’d hit an old woman?” she asked.
His face contorted. “You’re no spring chicken, but you aren’t old enough to be given the respect of the elderly, woman.” He struck her again, making the back of her head hit the wall behind her. “And you know better than to speak to a brother without being given permission. Keep your trap shut.”
Lottie used what energy she had to keep from telling him off. How had she ever lived under their ridiculous rules? And for so long, no less?
He held her gaze for a minute before twisting his face and spinning around to join the other men. They passed out bowls of soup to everyone other than Lottie—again.
One of the other men came by. He stopped in front of her, holding a single bowl.
Lottie’s mouth watered and her stomach tried to growl but it failed miserably. She kept her gaze on his white shoes so as not to make eye contact and give him any indication of how badly she wanted the soup. Had she been younger and not depleted of energy, she may very well have reached for the bowl and tried to drink it before the man realized what had happened. As it was, she was certain her hands would be too slow and clumsy, and he would only slap them away—or worse.
“Look at me.” His tone wasn’t as harsh as the other man’s.
Slowly, she brought her gaze up to meet his. He had kind blue eyes, sand-papery skin, and a salt-and-pepper short beard.
He held out the bowl. “Take it.”
Lottie’s heart skipped a beat. Was he really giving her a chance to eat, or was it nothing more than a cruel joke?
He nudged it forward.
She reached for it with both hands. The ceramic bowl was warm in her hands. Barely. She stared at it in disbelief.
“Hurry,” he whispered and rose.
Lottie brought the bowl to her mouth and tipped it, allowing the miso soup to fill her mouth. She swallowed slowly, finding her stomach twisting. After having gone so long without food, she couldn’t rush this.
Everyone else had already finished their soup. Lottie could only swallow a little at a time. She worried the men would take the bowl—or kick it from her—before she could empty it. Her stomach twisted tighter. She started to choke.
&
nbsp; Lottie tried to cover the sounds. If the men heard her, they could take away the sustenance. Somehow she managed to regain control before anyone noticed. Well, not anyone. Sydney watched her, wide-eyed. The men were distracted in a huddle, whispering to one another.
Her eyes watering from the silent choking, Lottie continued sipping the soup until all that remained were a few tiny chunks of carrot.
The huddle broke apart and the men turned back toward the captives. Lottie tipped the bowl as high as it would go. The vegetable pieces fell into her mouth. She chewed on one slowly. The men made their way to the prisoners and gathered the bowls.
The man with the blue eyes took her bowl and gave a little nod. Though his kindness was small, it was enough to cause a lump in her throat.
Negotiation
Nick checked his texts as he sat in the little room, waiting to speak to Chester Woodran. The tiny room wasn’t all that different from some of the rooms at his station, but considering all the security he’d had to go through just to get there, it definitely was different. Chester was in the maximum security wing of the prison, housed with other mentally unstable criminals. The man deserved it—there was no doubt after all he’d done.
The door opened, and two officers came inside on either side of Woodran, who was clad in a dark orange jumpsuit and had chains connecting his wrists and ankles. His bald head shone in the bright florescent lights overhead, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at Nick through his thick glasses.
“Sit,” ordered the officer on the left.
Chester did, but not without muttering something obscene. The officer on the right shoved him and then attached his cuffs to a bar on the tabletop. He turned to Nick. “Do you need anything before we leave?”
Nick leaned back against the chair, sitting tall. “All I need is Mr. Woodran.”
“We’ll be right outside the door if he gives you any trouble.” The officer glared at Chester before they headed outside.
Nick and Chester stared each other down. His beard reached his chest and the man had gained some scars since Nick had last seen him. He also had a few light bruises around his eyes, and probably plenty hiding underneath his orange attire. People like him—people who abused and murdered women and children—didn’t tend to fare well in prison, and more often than not, guards would turn a blind eye. Even after more than a decade of that, Chester still hadn’t gotten what he deserved.
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