by Lowe, Sheila
Claudia wondered how he would react if he knew that Rodney Powers, who wanted to be a TBL elder, had bolted with his daughter, leaving his young wife desperate to find their child. In light of the emotional fragility she saw in Stedman’s writing, Erin probably had the right idea about not informing him about what was going on. She glanced up from the notebook.
He was watching her, his chin resting on his fists again, waiting with anticipation for what she had to say. She chose her words with care.
“Your mind moves so fast that you can hardly form whole thoughts. It’s more like you soak up information rather than think things through logically. It’s not easy for you to trust on an emotional level, but you have a very well-honed ability to know what somebody is going to say or do, almost before they say or do it. Being able to tune in to people that way gives you a big advantage.” She considered him, hoping he wasn’t tuning in to her. Hidden microphones were one thing; mind reading took invasion of privacy to another level.
He withheld comment as she continued. “Your handwriting suggests to me that you’re currently functioning under a tremendous amount of emotional strain. Maybe that’s why you tend to skim the surface of emotion, and don’t allow anything to touch you too deeply, because . . .” Because you’re afraid it could send you over the edge. Because you’re paranoid. “Because you feel as if you have so much on your shoulders, you may wonder if you can take on any more. Yet, at the same time, it’s as if there were no barriers between you and the environment. You leave yourself wide open to everything.” She stopped again to gauge his reaction.
Harold Stedman looked thoughtful. He nodded. “That’s quite astonishing. Are you sure you got all that out of my handwriting?”
“As I see you now, and as you were on the podium, you don’t project an image of being stressed to the max. So, where else would I have gotten it? I don’t have a hidden microphone.” She couldn’t resist that jab. Looking back at what he had written, Claudia let herself read the words now.
“Now I’m tired and I can tell the creative juices have subsided temporarily, but I’m optimistic about rejuvenation, my own and this earth’s. No matter what happens, I have traveled a hundred thousand miles, and no one can take that away from me. Harold Stedman”
Claudia thought about the confessions they had viewed earlier in the evening. What would Brother Harold have written if he had been tasked with that assignment?
“You’re quite right about me reacting quickly,” he said. “And I’m going to prove it. I would like you to come and spend some time at the Ark. I want you to examine some handwritten statements and tell me what you think about the people who wrote them—whether what they wrote is the truth, whether they’re loyal, and so on. I want to know whether they’re being honest about what motivated them to join us.”
Claudia’s mind raced. If Rodney had indeed confided in James Miller, being on site at the Ark could provide opportunities that they otherwise wouldn’t have to question him on the whereabouts of Erin’s husband. It was the only lead they had and they needed to move fast. She glanced at Kelly, whose expression told her she was thinking the same thing.
As if he thought she was taking too long to answer, Stedman added, “I know it’s a long way from here, so you’re welcome to stay over for as long as it takes for you to do these analyses.”
“I’d love to come too,” Kelly chimed in. “I thought what you were talking about tonight was fascinating.”
Stedman considered her for a moment. “Aren’t you afraid of being humiliated?”
Kelly leaned into his space and gazed into his eyes. “It’s true, I didn’t like that part of the program so much. But what you said about the earth being destroyed got me thinking about the future and I want to learn more about how I can get saved. I don’t want to die in the end of times.”
That seemed to convince him. He beamed at her, nodding with approval. “That can definitely be worked out. You can both come right away, tonight, and we’ll get started first thing tomorrow.”
“If we’re spending a couple of days, we’ll have to get some clothes,” Claudia said, refusing to be bulldozed into the arrangement by Stedman’s need to be in control. “I’ll also want to pick up some equipment for the work you want me to do. We can drive out in the morning and be there by noon.”
For a moment, Harold Stedman looked nonplussed. “What kind of equipment could a handwriting analyst need?”
“Magnifying glass, measuring tools, things like that. I’ll also need to print out a copy of my standard retainer agreement and ask you to sign it. Since we’re staying over, I’ll be charging my day rate.”
When she him told her rate he looked taken aback, but he merely said, “All right, tomorrow then.”
Claudia said, “As it happens, I’m scheduled to give a lecture later in the week at UC Riverside. If the work you have for me lasts that long, I can conceivably leave from your location on Thursday evening and return there afterward.”
“That’s fine,” Stedman said. “The university is only about thirty miles from us, which is a lot closer than it would be for you to return here to the Valley.”
“Your Ark is in Hemet, isn’t it?” Kelly asked.
He shot a quick look at her and Claudia could see Kelly wishing that she hadn’t revealed that she already knew the location of their compound.
“We’re in the hills above Hemet,” Stedman said. “I’ll give you directions; it’s easy to get lost up there. May I have your notebook back, sister? You know, I’ve just realized, I don’t even know your names.”
They introduced themselves and Claudia wondered how quickly he would dig up some intel on them. Considering the electronic eavesdropping, and the paranoia she had noted in his handwriting, she was fairly certain that he would want to check them out before actually bringing them into the Ark. As long as he didn’t dig into family background and discover Kelly’s connection to Erin, they should be okay.
Stedman spoke as he wrote the directions. “Our property is about a hundred miles east of here.”
“Isn’t there another big religious compound in that area?” Claudia asked.
“The Scientology people have a place there; you’ll recognize it by the blue tiled roofs. It’s quite an impressive piece of real estate. I’m afraid you won’t find the Ark nearly as large or elaborate. We’re a little more remote and at a slightly higher elevation. You’ll take the San Bernardino Freeway east, past Riverside.” He scribbled a few lines on the paper. “Here are some directions and the phone number at the Ark in case you have any problems.”
They had a quick and easy drive back to Kelly’s place. Most of the commuters had gone home to their dinner and other evening activities, leaving traffic blessedly thinner on the 5. As they drove, Kelly and Claudia chewed over what they had seen during the evening, and Harold Stedman’s invitation to the Ark.
“How much do you know about cults?” Kelly asked.
“I had a case a couple of years ago. Mayor’s wife in a small town up north near Yreka got involved with a satanic cult. He tried to go in by himself and get her out, got beat up pretty badly; broken bones. Then they framed him for something—I forget exactly what, but there was handwriting involved—an anonymous note. He hired me to prove he hadn’t written it. That was an easy one. It’s really hard to forge someone’s handwriting and he had an interesting way of forming some of his numbers that the forgers totally got wrong. People don’t think about changing the numbers when they’re forging. Anyway, to answer your question, I did some Internet research and learned a little bit about cults in general.”
“And you weren’t scared to go up against them?”
“Well, yeah, of course I was. But it pissed me off, what they were doing to him. It wasn’t right.”
Kelly honked the horn a couple of times, oblivious to the SUV in front of her. “Claudia Rose to the rescue! Were you Sir Lancelot in a past life, or what?”
“Yeah, that was me, the knight in shining armor
saving damsels in distress. Which brings me back to our situation. What do you think our chances are of finding out where Rodney and Kylie are?”
“We’ve got to turn every minute of this visit to our advantage,” Kelly said. “The first thing we’ll have to do is track down James and make him tell us where that damn Rodney Powers has my niece stashed.”
Claudia doubted it would be as easy as Kelly made it sound, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
Back at Kelly’s house, Erin gave them a crash course in TBL culture.
When she’d heard they were invited to the Ark, her eyes had grown large the way Magdalena’s had when she heard that Harold Stedman had invited them backstage.
“That’s fantastic! You’ll probably be assigned to a guest room in the main house, which means you’ll be close to the computer room where James works. It’s right next to Rod’s office, downstairs. Everyone eats meals together, so that should be another chance to talk to James. You’ll have to watch out for Sister Ryder, though. Don’t let her get near you. If you give her an inch, she’ll sniff out that you’re not for real.”
Kelly asked, “Who’s that?”
“Lynn Ryder. She’s the head of security.”
“Hidden microphones aren’t enough? You need a head of security, too?”
“It’s an unusual position for a female to hold in our church, but Lynn had a lot of experience on the outside before she joined TBL. She was a top security specialist at a Fortune One-Hundred corporation. That’s why Brother Stedman gave her the job. We have to make sure that the people who come to the Ark have pure motives.” She had the grace to look sheepish as she said that.
“So, tell me, Erin,” Kelly said. “Are you guys keeping people out, or in?”
“Neither one,” Erin answered defensively. “We sometimes have guests—obviously; you’ve been invited, haven’t you? So there’s nothing to hide. And we’re free to come and go as we please, but . . .”
“But you just don’t choose to,” Kelly finished for her. “You’ve got everything you need there, right?”
Claudia jumped in. “Erin, do you have any ideas on how we should approach James?”
Erin sat down on the couch and seemed to ponder the question for a long time, until Claudia began to feel as itchy as Kelly looked.
“Come on, Erin,” Kelly urged, sitting down beside her. “You’ve got to have thought about this already. What the hell were you doing while we were at that meeting tonight?”
“Of course I’ve been thinking about it, but I didn’t know you were going to actually get inside the Ark. Okay, here’s what I think: don’t both of you rush James at the same time. If you act like you’re ganging up on him, he’ll be suspicious.”
“Well, duh. I think we could have figured that out. What else have you got?”
“Quit pressuring me, Kelly, this is really hard for me. I hate being deceptive, and Brother Stedman—” She stopped, seemed to rethink what she was going to say. “If one of you sits at James’s table in the dining hall, that should make him more comfortable. He’ll get to know you a little, so his guard will be let down.”
“Where’s his table?” Claudia asked.
“Each table has an elder or a minister—that’s the step before you become an elder—assigned to be the table captain. James’s is the table closest to the kitchen at the back of the room. You’ll see when you get in the dining hall. It’s to the left of the head table where Brother Harold sits with the governing board.”
“I’ll take James on in the dining hall,” Kelly volunteered. “Claudia can go after him in the computer room since I assume she’ll be working in the office while I’m getting edjumacated in TBL teachings.”
Erin shot her an annoyed look, presumably at her levity. “Please be subtle. And don’t take too long, okay? We’ve only got a few days before Rod will come back and want to turn Kylie over to Jephthah’s Daughters.”
Chapter 6
Joel Jovanic shook his head, pretending despair. “Are you ever going to be just a handwriting analyst?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m saying. In the two years I’ve known you, you’ve gotten yourself into more dangerous situations than I have in twenty years as a cop.” He put on a radio announcer voice: “Got a weird-ass job? Call Claudia Rose, handwriting expert. She’s your gal.”
Claudia turned from the fridge, a bottle of Heineken in hand. She poked around in the junk drawer for the bottle opener, popped the cap and held it out to him. “I don’t go looking for weird-ass jobs, Columbo. They find me.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
She took the seat across from him in the breakfast nook. Jovanic was looking pale and thin, as he had ever since a second surgery to take care of an infected wound. He’d been shot twice in the gut a couple of months earlier and was still recovering from the last hospital stay. The surgeries had adequately repaired the damaged organs, but left him with a serious intra-abdominal infection that had given them a big scare. He’d come away from the experience missing his spleen and six inches of intestines, but his surgeon had insisted he was lucky he hadn’t lost his life.
It wasn’t the way they had planned for Claudia to meet his mother and sister, who had flown in from northern California to hold a vigil at his bedside, but the women had formed a bond in the hospital waiting room. Claudia admired the strength she saw in his mother, who had lost her husband many years ago to a street thug. Her children had inherited that strength.
Once he was lucid enough to receive instructions, Jovanic’s surgeon had warned him that full recovery would take another two to three months—if he behaved himself.
He had proved not to be a good patient. He was chomping at the bit to get back to work, but he was at the mercy of his body, which currently was being a stern taskmaster. He still hadn’t got his appetite back and the general weakness was driving him crazy. Until the last week or two, even walking across the room made him tired. He’d flat out refused to get on the scale, but Claudia was convinced he’d lost at least twenty pounds.
She was aware that Jovanic knew how much she worried about him, but they didn’t talk about it anymore. He just became exasperated when the subject came up, so for the peace of mind of both of them she had decided to let it go.
Claudia got up again and moved behind his chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned down to press her warm cheek against his cool one. “Are you jealous, Columbo?” she said into his ear, teasing. “I get all the good cases?”
He took a swallow of beer, then bent his head and kissed her bare arm with moist lips. “You know you worry me, babe. You never take these things seriously enough, and then you end up in trouble.”
“This is serious, Joel. There’s a three-year-old at stake.”
“I know that, but do you really want to get between the unhappy couple? You know what happens in domestics most of the time: the Good Samaritan who intervenes ends up with the short end of the stick. That’s why cops hate taking those calls. I’m telling you, Claudia, the parents won’t thank you. They’ll end up ganging up on you and you and Kelly’ll be the bad guys.”
She returned to her seat across from him. “Of course I know there’s that possibility, but Kelly’s got this crazy wild hair about making up for Erin’s past, and I don’t want her to go into it on her own. Besides, I’m really worried about little Kylie. Who knows what’s happened to her? What if—”
“So you’re, what—going undercover in a cult? Come on, honey, is that really a wise thing to do?”
“It’s not undercover. I have a legitimate reason for being there. Harold Stedman is hiring me to do a job. If Kelly gets some information about Rodney while we’re there, so much the better.”
The skeptical look he gave her told her he wasn’t buying it. Claudia glanced back at him sidelong. “Okay, detective, would it make you happy if I called you and reported in every hour on the hour?”
“Sarcasm doesn
’t suit you, babe. Every four hours will be fine.”
She had to laugh at that. She said, “It’s only a two-hour drive if you need me. I can jump right in the car and come home.” She measured his drawn face and saw the pain shadowing his eyes. “Honey, if you’re not feeling good, I’ll . . .”
He waved her off and took aim at the trash can with the Heinie bottle. “I’m fine. Go, do your thing, save the little girl. Just call or send me a text message, let me know you got there.” The bottle made a smooth arc across the kitchen and landed neatly atop the Domino’s Pizza box he had folded and stuffed into the trash earlier in the evening. “If I don’t hear from you by eleven, I’ll be sending the Hemet cops out there to check on you. Call if you need me; if anything gets weird. . . .”
Claudia couldn’t miss the frustration in his voice. “Holy shit, Joel, these people are fundamentalists. They believe the world’s coming to an end through environmental disasters. They’re not Branch Davidians. It’s not Waco. I’d be surprised if they had weapons or anything like that.”
“They’re a cult. Their weapon is mind control. So humor me and call, okay?”
That night, she heard Jovanic groan under his breath, as he often did when he thought she was asleep. He rolled carefully out of bed so as not to disturb her. She heard him rummaging in the medicine cabinet for his pain meds. She didn’t offer help, having learned that once he was able to walk on his own following the surgeries, he had resisted what he called being dependent on her.