by Larry Enmon
After the sermon, Annabelle had gone into the children’s room and breastfed her baby while Katrina waited in their room for her return. Katrina needed to know more about the house and the people to formulate a good escape plan. But by the time Annabelle returned, she had become so depressed she refused to discuss anything. Katrina had lain awake most of the night, trying to figure the whole thing out. Had they even made a ransom demand? Was anyone looking for her? Doubt crept in around the edges of her confidence. If no knew where she was, how could they find her?
The next morning, after breakfast, Katrina and Annabelle were assigned housecleaning chores by Sister Ruth. When they finished lunch, Sister Judy sent them to the garden. The tomatoes, peas, and squash needed hoeing. On the way to the barn, Annabelle drifted into an excited babble. In whispered tones, she explained how she’d been kidnapped from Lake Charles the year before and raped by Brother John in the basement. She had given birth to a daughter. Her confession was heartfelt, as if she were finally admitting to a great sin and at last ridding herself of the shame. They found two hoes and hiked toward the garden. One of the pit bulls followed in the shadows of the tree line.
Katrina leaned closer and whispered, “How many others?”
Annabelle must have been deep in thought, because she said, “Pardon?”
“How many other girls?” Katrina asked. “I’ve heard several children in the house.”
Annabelle glanced in all directions as she walked. She kept her head low and mumbled from the corner of her mouth. “Four others that we know of.”
“We? Who’s we?” Katrina asked.
Annabelle lowered her head again and spoke just above a whisper. “Each girl passes on the names of the ones who came before to the next girl. Sooner or later one might make it out to tell what’s happened to us.”
Katrina’s stomach flipped. What the hell? So where are the other girls? What happened to them?
Annabelle opened the gate to the garden, and Katrina followed her to the rows of vegetables. Weeds sprouted in the rich loam soil.
“Have you ever used a hoe?” Annabelle asked.
Katrina shook her head.
“Watch me. It’s easy.” Annabelle chopped at the edges of the vegetables, hoeing the weeds to the side. “See?”
Katrina followed her example. “So, where are the other girls—the ones who came before you?” Katrina asked.
Annabelle’s lips pressed into a thin line and she didn’t make eye contact. She paused before saying, “Everyone says they release them, but I can’t believe that.”
Katrina took a breath, unable to speak for a moment. Annabelle’s earlier statement, “Welcome to hell,” had just taken on a new level of horror. “Each has a child by the Freak?” Katrina asked.
Annabelle nodded and whispered, “A few months after giving birth, after the child’s breastfed for a while, the mother disappears.” Her last words were choked with emotion.
“What are you going to do?” Katrina asked.
If Annabelle intended to make a break, Katrina didn’t want to be left behind.
Annabelle swung her head in all directions and answered, “I have to try. My time’s almost up. If I don’t leave soon, they’ll come for me.” Annabelle glared at the dog in the woods. “I’ll have to take my chances.”
Katrina edged closer. “I’m coming too.”
Annabelle shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re safe for the time being. I’ll go alone.”
Katrina’s voice rose higher than she intended. “Safe? I don’t call waiting to be raped and murdered safe.”
When she said murdered, Annabelle leaned on the hoe. Tears dripped from her cheeks, and her shoulders heaved from silent weeping.
Katrina moved closer and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said…” Katrina held Annabelle a minute longer.
Annabelle raked her eyes with the back of her hand. “I overheard the men talking this morning. They’re going after another girl tonight. Be gone until well after midnight. That’s the best chance I’m going to get. I have a plan.” Annabelle eyed Katrina. “You have to stay. The time will come for you as well. Perhaps between now and then you’ll be rescued, or escape. If I make it, I’ll bring help.” Annabelle paused before saying, “If I don’t, at least you’ll have a chance later.”
Katrina fought the emotion. Of all the anxiety she’d known since being taken, this was the worst. The knowledge that this might be her only friend’s last day filled her with dread. How could she stay in this insane asylum without Annabelle? She had no doubt that sooner or later the Freak would rape her every night until he impregnated her. After that, it was only a matter of time until she’d be in Annabelle’s predicament. Could she just stand by and wait for that to happen? Did she have that kind of courage?
Katrina took a breath and looked at Annabelle, who was still fighting back tears. No, definitely not! Katrina would make a break before then. But that’s probably what Annabelle and the others had also thought. Once you were with child, what happened to your strength and energy?
Annabelle swiveled her head again and caught Katrina’s eye. “Before I leave, I have to show you something. And you must show it to the next girl.”
Katrina stopped hoeing. “What?”
Annabelle opened her mouth to speak as a voice yelled from the barn.
“Get back to work.” Sister Ruth pointed at them with an accusatory finger.
Katrina made a decision—a promise she’d keep no matter what. Before she left, she intended to bitch-slap that woman.
* * *
Frank spent the rest of Monday afternoon amassing all the information he could on Warren, which wasn’t much. Given that he had no criminal record or recent work history, Frank was reduced to Google and Facebook to catch a glimpse of the guy’s past. Warren had no social media presence. No accounts meant no inside information. The Texas Department of State Health Services offered nothing. No birth certificate, no census information. The guy must have been born outside the state. But Frank had one thing he could use: the Social Security number from the lease.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number he seldom contacted. When the man answered, Frank asked the question.
“Yes, is this the person who posted a reward for the lost dog?”
The familiar voice hesitated a second before saying, “You have the wrong number.”
Frank hung up and thumbed through some paperwork, waiting for the call. Five minutes later, his cell rang.
“Hey, Frank. How’s things?” Chet asked.
Chet had been a Dallas detective until about eight years before when he’d gone fed and gotten assigned to the Dallas Social Security Office working for the Office of the Inspector General. He owed Frank more favors than could ever be repaid. Best fed contact he had. There was one problem, though. Chet couldn’t officially release information on a Social Security number.
“All’s good, buddy. Working the missing mayor’s daughter case,” Frank said.
“No shit? Any leads?”
“Yeah, and that’s why I’m calling. Got a number I need checked out.”
“Let me have it,” Chet said.
Frank read the number and Chet repeated it for conformation before saying, “Give me till tomorrow and I’ll call you.”
Frank stood and did a quick yoga stretch. Too many questions and not enough answers. How much time did she have? He dropped into his chair, and when his butt hit the cushion, it was as if something shook loose in his brain. Of course. Why had it taken him so long? He began typing.
Fifteen minutes later he stood in front of Terry’s desk watching his boss read the paper he’d handed him.
“Can’t say we’ve ever done this before,” Terry said, “but I don’t see why not.” Terry initialed the bottom of the page and handed it back to Frank. “Walk it over to Edna for final approval, and have them send it out today,” Terry said.
Frank snatched the paper from Terry’s fingers on his w
ay out the door. “Halfway there already,” Frank said.
23
Katrina and Annabelle worked in the garden until Sister Judy called them in to help with supper. The afternoon had cooled, and the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle floated through the air. A whippoorwill called in the distance. In the shadows of the trees, the rustling of grass signaled the dog’s presence.
That thing scared Katrina more than she let on. She’d been attacked by a dog as a young girl. It had latched on to her right knee and wouldn’t let go. Her dad had come to her rescue, beating the thing off with a rolled-up newspaper. The attack had frightened her to the point of hysteria. She still had the physical scars, but the mental ones were worse. The thought of an attack sent waves of fear through her, and she knew she’d never be able to escape as long as the dogs watched her.
Annabelle had worked in near silence since telling Katrina about her escape plans, as if she were making peace, or coming to terms with a situation she had no control over. She was calm as she strolled in the lush grass beside Katrina.
Katrina whispered, “I don’t want you to leave.”
A crooked grin crossed Annabelle’s lips. “I’ll be leaving one way or another. Either I’ll wait for them to come get me, or I’ll take my chances tonight.” She lowered her head and mumbled, “You’ll have the company of another girl, anyway.” She shifted her gaze to Katrina and a tear raced down her cheek. Annabelle wiped it away as they neared the porch door. A low growl from under the house greeted them.
After washing up, Katrina received a lesson in the preparation of turnip greens. Sisters Judy and Ruth worked on the roasted chicken and sweet potatoes. Field peas and cornbread were Sister Karen’s job. Men’s voices echoed from the dining room as the women finished preparing the meal and served the food.
Katrina paid careful attention to everyone at the table that evening. During their time alone in the garden, Annabelle had given her the skinny on the group. Brother Turner and Brother Lee were literally brothers. The tall, hard-faced men seldom smiled, or even spoke. They appeared to be completely devoted to the Freak. What hold he had on them she couldn’t imagine.
Brother Luther, on the other hand, had somewhat of a personality and a cherub look. He had convinced her to come out of the basement, but he was also the same one who had fondled her in the truck that night. He had allowed the dogs to kill the rabbit and issued her a warning against escaping. He seemed a bit Forrest Gumpish with his shy, disarming smile, but he was as dangerous as the rest.
Sisters Ruth, Judy, and Karen were pretty much alike. They could be charming one minute and vicious the next. Their devotion to Brother John was total. Sister Karen, being the youngest, showed deference to the two older women.
As for Brother John, the Freak, he almost never talked except when giving his marathon nightly sermons. His alpha-male status seemed to give him the confidence to control with just a look or motion of his head. His intense stares froze Katrina. A man with eyes like that could just as easily kill you as look at you.
She stole a glimpse at Annabelle halfway through the meal. This was her last supper. Katrina would have given anything to go with her, but Annabelle had forbidden it. After eating, Katrina and Annabelle were sent to the basement to put sheets on the bed and tidy things up for “the new guest.”
Twenty minutes later, they sat side by side on their bed and talked.
“When do you plan to make your break?” Katrina asked.
Annabelle took a deep breath. “As soon as they leave to kidnap the next girl. Everyone will be at the rear of the house, and I’ll slip out the front.”
“I have a question,” Katrina said.
“What?”
“Why are they doing this? What possible reason could they have?”
Annabelle’s eyes drifted to the nightstand and she picked up the Bible. She dropped it into Katrina’s lap. “Here, read Revelation. It’s hidden in there somewhere, according to Brother John. You see, he considers himself a new age prophet. He believes he is the manifestation of the death star, Wormwood.” She tapped the Bible. “Described in Revelation. According to John, God instructed him to know seven girls, who would bear him seven children. Once the last is born, John will ascend to heaven and return to earth as Wormwood. That will signal the end of the world. The only survivors will be the people in this house—his followers and children.”
“What a bunch of bullshit,” Katrina said, a little too loudly.
“Of course it is, but to answer your question, the reason we’re here is to provide the children,” Annabelle said.
“How many are there now?” Katrina asked.
“Counting my baby, five.”
Katrina shook her head. “I’m not staying here, Annabelle. Not with these nuts.”
Annabelle grabbed Katrina by the shoulders. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? You’re safe until you give them a child. They may threaten and be mean to you, but they won’t dare harm you until well after your baby’s born.”
“No, I can’t do it … I won’t do it. I’m coming with you.” Katrina said.
“One person has twice the chance of escaping as two. If you go, neither of us will make it. I need you to stay and cover for me. Give me a little extra time. Please, I can’t do this alone,” Annabelle pleaded. Her eyes were sorrowful as she begged for Katrina’s help.
Poor Katrina had never done a courageous thing in her pampered life. She’d never had to. Annabelle’s plea hit her hard, like a slap across the face. She swallowed her fear and held Annabelle’s hands in hers. “Okay, I’ll stay and buy you as much time as I can.” Tears filled the corners of Annabelle’s eyes, and she picked up a small flashlight off the nightstand.
“I told you I’d show you something. Are you ready?” Annabelle asked.
Katrina licked dry lips. “I hope so.”
* * *
Frank sat on his balcony and stared into the darkness. It was late, but he knew it was going to be one of those nights. Sometimes investigations stuck in his head and he couldn’t sleep. He sipped the red wine and thought. Since interviewing Eddie under the overpass, Frank had held a suspicion that the Brother John character played a major part in the case, but it wasn’t until his interview with Grace Fellman that he was sure of it. But why?
Edna had liked his idea of sending a NCIC/TCIC query to all criminal justice agencies regarding the Wormwood tattoo. That might shake things up. And then tomorrow Rob would return, and they could reinterview Eddie. With the new information from Mrs. Fellman, Frank wanted to clarify a few things. There wasn’t much else they could do.
Frank rolled his wrist and checked the time. Got to get some sleep. The Rangers, FBI, and Missing Persons were batting zero for zero. Frank didn’t have much confidence in that bunch. He and Rob were leading the pack; everyone else only followed. Frank dropped his fingers inside his shirt pocket, touching Trina’s photo.
“Hold on a little longer,” he whispered.
* * *
Annabelle slid a small pair of scissors from the nightstand drawer. She got on her knees by the bed as if she intended to pray and motioned for Katrina to do the same. Lying on her back, Annabelle eased her head and shoulders under the edge of the bed and clicked on the flashlight. Katrina followed.
“Hold the light right here,” Annabelle said, passing the flashlight to Katrina. It illuminated the inside of the wooden bed frame, well out of sight of anyone changing the sheets.
Annabelle began scratching the wood with a scissor point. Katrina’s eyes widened. Not at her friend’s strange behavior, but at the other scratches. In a neat list were the names and hometowns of the others: “Donna Willis—Houston, TX. Cindy Pullman—Alexandra, LA. Mary Billings—Beaumont, TX. Janet Farmer—Austin, TX.” Annabelle finished inscribing her name and added “Lake Charles, LA.” She brushed off the loose shavings and dabbed a tissue on her tongue before wiping them up. Annabelle and Katrina scooted from under the bed.
Katrina’s stomach twisted, and s
he leaned against the wall.
Annabelle raked her hair into place and reached under the bed frame. After a moment, she pulled out a gold ring with a small emerald in the center.
“They stole this from me the day I arrived,” Annabelle said. She slipped it on her finger and held it out, admiring it. “But I found where they hid it in the women’s bedroom and stole it back. They’ve never missed it.”
“So, how are they all connected?” Katrina asked.
“From what I can see, they’re all married to each other. It’s a commune in the truest sense,” Annabelle replied.
Katrina’s mind kicked into overdrive. “You mean they all sleep with each other?”
Annabelle shrugged. “Best I can tell. John takes one of the women each night. He likes Karen the best. He considers them his spiritual wives.”
“Ugh. He is a freak.” Katrina said. “Do any of them have children by him?”
Annabelle shook her head. “No, but I don’t know why.”
They stood and wandered to the door. Annabelle swallowed hard and hugged Katrina. “I’ll spend the last few minutes with my baby.” She broke the embrace and wiped her eyes.
“Good luck,” Katrina said.
Annabelle’s lips stretched with just the hint of a grin. “Good luck to you.” She slipped out the door, and Katrina closed it without a sound. She drew slow, deep breaths. Annabelle wouldn’t be around for her anymore. How could she stand this place without her? Katrina’s eyes misted and she choked off a sob. Everything needed to look normal until tomorrow.
Katrina leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer for Annabelle. Katrina had never felt so alone. Before she opened her eyes again, she added a prayer for herself.
* * *
Emilie Moore wiped sweat from her brow and pushed the button on the treadmill. The elevation increased five degrees. She had another three minutes before the cool-down cycle. The eight-mile pace and elevation increase gave her the burn she enjoyed at the end of a long run. A warm, satisfied feeling rushed through her.