Fight Dirty

by CJ Lyons

  Sean disengaged from her and stepped away. Deidre stood, still with her arms wrapped around her chest, staring at the floor. “I won’t mess up again. I’m sorry.”

  “Good.” He opened the door. “Go. Get ready for him.” She shuffled to the door, still looking down at her feet. “Remember. Whatever he wants, whatever it takes. Make him happy. Our future depends on it.”

  She nodded and left. Sean stood in the open door, watching, a scowl on his face. He glanced inside the room as if debating returning inside, but then turned toward the administrative offices and let the door bang shut behind him.

  Morgan waited a few minutes before crawling out of her hiding place in the cabinet. She opened the door and scanned the hallway. All clear.

  She resumed her progress down the hall, heading away from the main offices. There was nothing on the ReNew blueprints specifically labeled as a file or records room, but it was obvious that Benjamin and his people cared little about what a room’s original intended purpose was.

  The corridor ended in front of the main doors to the school’s chapel. To the right was a narrow passage that led behind the administrative offices. The only major landmark in that direction that she could remember from the floor plan was a door at the very end, which was a side door that led into the back of the chapel. Inside the chapel there was another door on the opposite side leading into the classroom area, no doubt locked.

  She doubted the Rev would use a chapel to house his computer storage, but that still left the rooms lining the corridor as possibilities. The first was a storage closet for office supplies. It was pretty much just empty shelves and a few reams of paper—of course, since there was no actual classroom instruction going on here, not much need for many office supplies.

  The next was stacked with more of the lightweight plastic chairs and tables that she’d seen beyond the locked doors in the student area. Across the hall, though, she hit pay dirt: a windowless room containing several desks with computers and hard drives. No paper files, but given the audio and video recordings the Rev and Chapman collected, why would they need them?

  She settled into one of the workstations and accessed the computer. No security to speak of, her main obstacle was finding Bree’s files scattered among seven years’ worth of folders. They were coded by date and time stamps, so Morgan chose the date BreeAnna arrived at ReNew.

  Even for that date there were thirty-four separate recordings. She remembered seeing cameras in the Rev’s counseling room, the intake room, and the commons room. Who knew where else he was eavesdropping on the students’ secrets? She clicked on one, hoping it wouldn’t be bathroom porn.

  A woman’s cries pierced the air. Morgan stabbed the “Mute” button and held her breath, pivoting to watch the door. She left the chair and checked the hall. Empty. When she returned to the computer, she saw who the woman was—Deidre.

  She was naked, kneeling on some kind of single-person pew, flogging herself so hard that Morgan winced with each stroke even though she couldn’t hear it. Pacing around her, gesturing to a large cross hanging above them, his mouth open as he screamed at Deidre, urging her to hit harder, to purge her sins, was Reverend Benjamin.

  Morgan didn’t need the sound on to know what he was yelling at her—Deidre’s tortured expression of self-loathing was enough. Finally she slumped over the railing, exhausted, the flail dangling from her hand. The Reverend snatched it from her and took over, striking her so hard that he drew blood. His hand slid to his crotch as he smiled at the camera. The camera panned to a table beneath the cross. It held a variety of whips, scourges, and other instruments of torture, as well as large containers of salt and vinegar.

  No wonder Deidre was so screwed up. She’d been here seven years, since she was twelve—had the Rev been using her as his whipping girl all that time? Brainwashing her into truly believing she was evil, probably the same bullshit that had made Deidre feel responsible for the sins of the other students as well. Anything to twist her mind and keep her compliant.

  Morgan knew the routine all too well—it was what her father did with his fish. He’d play games, turning them on each other, would even make them hold each other down while he or another fish tortured them. Survival of the fittest, he’d tell them. Only, of course, none of them survived. He didn’t care; he had his fun. Just like the Rev.

  Carrier of the blood, salvation through pain, sacrificial lamb. Now Morgan understood why Deidre had been so desperate to convince Bree to take her place. And when that failed, she’d now fixated on Morgan as a possible replacement.

  Morgan clicked on another file from the same date. The intake room. Bree was shoved inside, the door closed behind her, leaving her in the dark. She’d pounded against the door, calling for her mother, until the doors behind her opened and Deidre and the Red Shirts appeared.

  Morgan knew what happened next, so she opened the folder for the next day and found a file from the Rev’s first session with Bree. The girl sat in her flimsy plastic chair, eyes sunken and glazed over, as he interrogated her, tearing her life apart, trying to get her to admit to the transgressions her mother had accused her of.

  But Bree appeared more stunned than guilty. She said nothing, merely shaking her head in denial with each accusation. The Rev stormed and yelled, showering down eternal damnation on her and her family, until tears streamed down Bree’s face, but still she said nothing.

  Morgan noted the code for the Reverend’s sessions and flicked through the next several days. Same shouting and screaming, but Bree simply sat, never saying a word. Toward the end she no longer appeared stunned. Rather a shy smile crossed her face. Triumphant in her silence.

  Whatever Greene was afraid his daughter had disclosed, he need not have worried. From what Morgan could tell, Bree never confessed to anything.

  She pulled the stem from her glasses, revealing the USB plug. Greene had loaded his scrubber program, but it wouldn’t run until she activated it. Morgan plugged her glasses into the computer, which read it as an external drive. First, she deleted Greene’s program—no way in hell was she erasing the pain and suffering these kids went through. With this evidence, she could close ReNew for good and finally get some measure of justice for Bree.

  Her glasses didn’t hold enough memory for all the files, so she copied most of Bree’s and a few of Deidre’s onto the drive and uploaded the rest into a cloud account. It would take several hours for all of the material to be saved—after all, the Rev and Chapman had been doing this for over seven years—but there was no reason for her to stick around that long; the program could run automatically.

  Using a voice over Internet protocol, she called Greene. “It’s done. Come get me.”

  “Really? Already?” Greene seemed surprised.

  “You aren’t paying me by the hour. How long before you get here?”

  “You made sure the program uploaded properly? Everything is erased?”

  “All the digital files. I haven’t found any hard copies yet.”

  There was a long pause. “Have you spoken to Jenna Galloway since you arrived?”

  Jenna? How the heck would she talk with Jenna? “No. Why?”

  “Never mind, if you’ve done your job, then I can handle any loose ends.”

  What the hell did that mean? “Are you coming to get me?”

  “Don’t worry.” His voice turned warm, soothing. “I’m on my way.”

  He hung up. Morgan frowned at the screen. Then she called Andre. “It’s me.”

  “Morgan. Is everything okay?”

  He sounded worried. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Nick discovered that BreeAnna was home alone the night she died. And she had a visitor. Someone rang the doorbell, and she let them inside the house, right around the time the medical examiner said she died.”

  “Bree was murdered?” That explained so much. But who killed her? And why? “You�
�re sure it wasn’t her parents?”

  “No. They have an alibi.”

  “Greene’s on his way to get me out of here. But I’d appreciate it if one of you came as well. I don’t trust him.”

  “I’ll grab Jenna and head right out. Are you safe?”

  Footsteps sounded from the hall outside. Morgan hung up without answering his question and turned the lights off, hiding beside the door.

  “Did you see what your sister did to that new girl?” Reverend Benjamin’s voice came. Sounded like they were right outside the door. “You need to man up as head of the family and control her.”

  “Like you do?” Sean Chapman answered. “You’ve got her so twisted, she believes your crap. Thinks she’s saving souls.”

  “What goes on between us is none of your business. Your job is to make sure things run smoothly around here. Which means no more lawyers, no more parents raising hell, no more curious eyes prying into our business.”

  “Then we might have a problem. The release papers came through on Micah Chase. We can’t stall any longer. He’s out of here tomorrow.”

  There was a pause. Micah was being released? Morgan was torn. It was a strange feeling. She wanted him out of this cesspool. But she wanted him here. With her. Good thing she was leaving as well.

  “Exactly my point. If you kept your sister in line like I told you, stopped all this Purge crap, he wouldn’t have seen anything and we could have pocketed the county’s money, sent him on his way.”

  “So you want me to let him go?”

  “I want you to do your job and take care of the problem. I don’t care what it takes. Make sure he doesn’t talk.” The two men continued down the hall, out of range of her hearing.

  Make sure he doesn’t talk. What did that mean? Didn’t matter. She was on the wrong side of the locked doors to help Micah.

  She could finish her job, wait for Jenna and Andre or Greene to arrive, and hope they were in time to save Micah.

  Or she could forget about her own escape and go back and save him.

  Save herself or save a sheep? No-brainer. At least it should be. Yet, she hesitated.

  With the evidence she had to shut down ReNew, she’d save not only Micah but all the kids held here if she stuck with her plan.

  Weird. She couldn’t remember ever needing to talk herself into doing anything before. Usually she did what she wanted, dealt with any consequences later. Second-guessing wasn’t in her nature.

  She shook her head. Micah would be fine.

  Another set of footsteps passed the door, this time headed down to the end of the hall where the door to the chapel was.

  When the hall went quiet again, she eased the door open. The corridor was empty. She stepped out and sidled down the hall, away from the chapel. The office supply closet would be a good place to hide and wait—it was obvious no one had been there in a long time. No. Better to sneak out of the building and catch her ride beyond the security perimeter.

  She glanced down at her bare feet. Maybe a quick stop at Chapman’s room to steal a pair of socks and a coat first. She’d almost made it to the end of the corridor when Reverend Benjamin came barreling around the corner, colliding with her.

  CHAPTER 42

  The good Reverend Doctor may have been a self-proclaimed man of God, but somewhere along the line, Morgan would bet good money that he’d worked as a bouncer in a not-so-nice bar.

  Her first instinct was to dodge past him, make a run for it. For most men caught off guard, that would have worked and she would have had a nice head start.

  Not the Rev. As Morgan moved one way—playing the odds and going for his presumed weak side, his left side—he pivoted with her, lunging and grabbing her shoulder and elbow, twisting her arm behind her so that her own momentum worked against her.

  She didn’t try to resist—there was a damn good reason moves like that were called compliance holds. Fighting it would only lead to a lot of pain and a dislocated shoulder. Instead she played the sheep and went limp, faking a whimper.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Morgan thought fast, putting together the pieces Deidre and her brother had dropped like bread crumbs, and bluffed, “Deidre told me to come to the chapel. Said you wanted to see me for a special counseling session?”

  The Rev straightened, pulling Morgan along with him. “She did, did she? We’ll just see about that. Come along.” He dragged her down the hall to the side door leading into the chapel.

  It didn’t look much like a place of worship on the inside. Other than a small single-person kneeler in front of the altar, there were no pews. Instead there were fancy lights, like what professional photographers used, and two cameras on tripods. Which spoke volumes. Morgan remembered the clip of Deidre she’d seen earlier. The Rev had had his hands full, whipping her, yet the camera had panned in.

  Deidre’s brother, Sean? And she thought her family was sick.

  Keeping her head low and her posture submissive, hiding behind her hair as it fell over her face, she scanned the room. Above the kneeler, chains hung from the ceiling, ending in thick manacles. In the far corner, near the door leading into the locked student area, was a dog bed. Hanging from hooks on the walls near it were several dresses. So this was Deidre’s home when she left the students.

  But what most attracted Morgan’s attention was the table between the kneeler and the altar. It was covered with a white cloth, and arranged on top were a variety of torture instruments, including one of Morgan’s own favorites: a curved-blade fillet knife.

  If she could get close to that . . . But the Rev didn’t give her a chance. Keeping a tight grip on her, he hauled her to the center of the room near the kneeler.

  “Deidre!” he bellowed. “Get out here!”

  A door beside the main doors opened. There was a tile-walled bathroom behind it. Deidre appeared, wiping her face with a paper towel. Her color was pale, and one hand rubbed her belly. Morgan had a feeling she had a pretty good idea why Deidre was so desperate to escape ReNew.

  She almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost. Except Morgan made it a rule to never feel anything for fish, and that’s what Deidre really was.

  Deidre didn’t want to save herself. Deidre wanted to save them all. She was a true believer. And someone along the line—probably her brother or the Rev, or both—had convinced her that the only path to salvation lay through pain and suffering. Through being broken.

  All those “confessions” she’d purged from the kids at ReNew, Deidre truly believed them. Because her own world was so twisted and corrupt, she imagined all of the other kids at ReNew were also sinners, deserving of punishment.

  “I came like you asked,” Morgan told Deidre, hoping the other girl would play along. “I came to carry the burden.”

  “Is it true?” the Rev asked. “You asked her to come here?”

  Deidre looked from Morgan to the Rev and back, still wiping her face with the paper towel. Then, she slowly nodded, her gaze locked with Morgan’s, not the Rev’s.

  Morgan knew she’d won. Her first impression had been so wrong. Deidre wasn’t like Morgan’s father, not at all. She was more like one of his victims—no, he’d never been able to warp any of his victims’ minds so completely, except one: the woman he’d married, his ultimate accomplice.

  Deidre’s mind had been warped by two men: the Reverend and her brother. Morgan suspected Bree had begun to sow seeds of doubt—could Morgan capitalize on those now?

  The girl dropped the paper towel and stumbled across the space separating them. She reached a hand to stroke Morgan’s arm as if overcome and beyond words. Then she took Morgan’s hand in hers, and the Rev released Morgan.

  “Well, now,” he said, moving to set up the cameras. “This is an unexpected present.” His tone was one of a man totally focused on his task—a task that unfortunately put
him between Morgan and the knife.

  “I only ask one thing, Deidre,” Morgan said. She’d have a better chance taking down the Rev if she didn’t have to worry about Deidre—the girl was too unstable to rely upon. “He sent your brother to kill Micah. You can’t let that happen.”

  The Rev scoffed. “I sent Sean to counsel him. Deidre knows there’s a price to be paid by the wicked. Micah Chase refuses to repent. He can’t leave here until he does.”

  “He’s done nothing wrong except refuse to let you break him.”

  “Of course, that’s what a sinner like yourself would say. Deidre knows better.”

  Doubt crossed Deidre’s face. “Please,” Morgan whispered. “Save him.”

  “I can’t do that,” she whispered back, her voice filled with fear rather than condemnation. Then she straightened and said in a loud voice, “Micah must finish his penance before he can leave. We can’t let sinners like you loose on the outside world.” Deidre’s words emerged like the recitation of an automaton. The Rev grinned in victory and turned to face them both, hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face.

  Morgan could almost see him relishing the possibilities. Two girls, his to break. She needed him focused on her and her alone.

  “Micah’s not who you should worry about,” Morgan said. Time to act the wolf rather than the sheep. As a wolf, she had something of value to offer the Rev. If she could convince Deidre to give her something in return.

  “There’s only one sinner here worthy of your attention.” Morgan focused on breathing in time with the Rev, blinking at the same slow speed, mirroring his posture, until he finally began to nod in time with her. She knew what he wanted, and it had nothing to do with salvation or forgiveness, but she needed to keep up the act for Deidre’s sake. And to buy time. How long would it take Jenna and Andre to get here? Or Greene? “The greatest sinner of all. Me.”