by Lowe, Sheila
“Okay then, let’s start with the daily activities, how people are treated. The children, for instance, are they being well cared for?”
“Everyone I met at the Ark seemed pretty happy—more than average, in fact. They were well fed; everyone has work assignments in the garden or the kitchen or the bookbindery, and so on. They have a school, so there must be teachers. I know there were classes for new members because they put Kelly in some of them. I expect Joel has told you that she was drugged and hypnotized.”
He nodded. “We’ll want to interview Ms. Brennan about that later. Why don’t you tell me about the work Harold Stedman asked you to do for him at the Ark. I’d like to hear in detail what it was that he wanted from you.”
She explained Stedman’s suspicions that some members might be disloyal and that he had given her the handwriting of about twenty Ark members to analyze during her stay.
“What did you find out?” Oziel asked, curiosity pushing through his bureau reserve.
“A couple of the samples had signs of possible deception on specific items, but there were no obvious red flags. No major problems, no pathology. As far as integrity, most of them were in the normal range. The essay that had the most glaring indications of a lie was written by the head of security. How’s that for irony?”
Oziel got up from the table, took his mug over to the Mr. Coffee on the kitchen counter, and poured himself a refill. “I agree that’s a tad ironic. You’re referring to a woman named Lynn Ryder, I believe?”
Claudia nodded. “From the little time I spent with her, she seemed to be a devout member. But from the point of view of a handwriting analyst, it was clear to me that her motivation for being at the Ark wasn’t precisely what she wrote in her application essay. And, by the way, the only reason why I knew it was Lynn’s handwriting was because she walked in on me while it was lying on Rodney’s desk. The fact that it was there really shook her up. I think she was afraid of what I was doing with it. Stedman didn’t tell her why I was there, and that bothered her, too.”
As she spoke, Oziel continued to make notes. “What about the other one? You said there were a couple of them with signs of deception.”
“Someone who identified himself as a dentist. It wasn’t that he was directly lying so much as he wasn’t telling everything. I believe he was leaving out parts of his story—probably facts that he thought would be detrimental to getting his application approved. The identifying information had been removed, so I couldn’t tell you who the guy was. Maybe you have enough information to figure it out.” She couldn’t think of anything else to tell him.
“From what you observed, who would you say are Stedman’s most trusted cohorts? The Ryder woman?”
“He put her in charge of the Ark’s security, so she has to be high on his list. Erin told us it was because she used to be a security specialist before she joined TBL. Still, if Stedman wanted me to examine her handwriting, he must have had some concerns or suspicions about her. Unless he was testing me, but I have no way of knowing that. I think he gave me Erin Powers’s handwriting, too. He could have been using me to double-check the people closest to him. He’s suspicious of just about everyone. His own handwriting certainly had indications of paranoia.”
Claudia closed her eyes for a moment while she pondered the question. Opening them she said, “The members of the governing board would have to be at the top of his most-trusted list. They write the literature for all the members—not just for the people who live at the Ark but for those at the satellite branches, too. They write books and pamphlets with all the rules—even what married members can do in bed. It seems to be the governing board who makes the final decisions about what’s going to be taught and who gets excommunicated when they break the rules.” She paused, remembering the stunned reaction of the members when Stedman made his announcement at lunch.
“Someone was excommunicated yesterday while I was there. Joel probably told you about the people I saw in the yard last night, dressed up in robes, like monks? Some of them went in the direction of the main house. I followed a few minutes later, and when I went up to my room, Harold Stedman stopped me on the landing. He would have had just about enough time to change out of the robe.”
“What do you think they were doing out there?” Oziel asked, writing furiously. He was on the other side of the table, which made it hard to see his handwriting, but Claudia could see his hand move fast across the page, which meant he was a fast thinker, too.
“Looked like some sort of secret meeting. I’m pretty sure they came from the bomb shelter Stedman showed me today. The person they excommunicated was a man named John Talbot. I thought they might have been meeting about that.”
More scribbling. Finally, Oziel’s pen halted and he glanced up, waiting. “What else?”
She told him about the note Rodney had left for her the previous evening and he asked her to produce it.
“The handwriting is different from a note his wife showed me.” Claudia showed him the note from her briefcase, along with the one that James had given her. She had already placed them separately in acid-free plastic protective sleeves that she kept in her briefcase. She could hear Jovanic in the living room, talking on his cell phone.
“The writing is also different from the writing on the card James gave me,” she went on. “But the handwriting in the note James gave me does match some other writing that I came across in a file cabinet in Rodney Powers’s office. What I would like to do before giving a firm opinion is to put them all side by side and compare them. Preliminarily, though, it’s my belief that Erin herself wrote the note she claimed was from her husband. She wanted Kelly and me to think he was the bad guy in all this.”
“It makes you wonder what motive she might have had,” Oziel said.
Claudia refused to speculate on that question. “I don’t know her motive, but for some reason she wanted Kelly and me to believe Rodney had written that note. I’d say she was trying to protect herself.”
“And you’re sure about it being her handwriting?”
“As sure as I can be without physically examining the notes side by side. I’m working from memory, but I’m as reasonably certain as I can be that the handwritings are as I’ve said. The only way for me to be more conclusive is to get the writing in the thank-you note James Miller gave me authenticated by Erin, and that’s not likely to happen.” She paused again, asking herself if she was crazy for what she was thinking. “I believe Rodney told the truth: Erin’s working with Harold Stedman. She used Kelly and me as pawns to help her get the information they needed to get Kylie back.”
One eyebrow twitched. “She set you and Ms. Brennan up?”
“Well, she sent us to the rally, where someone ‘just happened’ to overhear our conversation. Then, voilà! Stedman invites me back to the Ark to work for him.”
“That means Stedman knew all along about you and Ms. Brennan.”
Claudia felt like a fool for allowing herself to get drawn in the way she had. “I should have charged him more for my services, the bastard. Erin must have told him I’m a handwriting analyst and they used that to get us to the Ark. I suppose if I hadn’t given them that excuse there would have been some other pretext to get us there.”
“Well, it’s not illegal for Mrs. Powers to send her child to the Colorado temple.” Agent Oziel clasped his hands together on the table, giving her a serious look that made her queasy. She wished Jovanic would return. What was taking him so long?
“I hadn’t planned to share this with you, Ms. Rose, but I’m going to because it may be more efficient this way. But I’m warning you not to divulge this information to anyone.” He waited until she gave her assent.
“The bureau has been investigating the disappearances of female juveniles who have gone missing from the welfare system in several states over the past few years. We have reason to believe that some of these juveniles ended up at the TBL facility in Colorado. We have recently obtained the location of that facility
and have evidence that ties these disappearances to the Temple of Brighter Light and Harold Stedman.”
Claudia cleared the mugs from the table and rinsed them at the sink, then went through the motions of making a fresh pot of coffee. The small activity gave her time to think. “I didn’t see anything close to child abuse at the Ark, if that’s what you’re implying. The children I saw there were all well behaved and happy. They didn’t look ill treated in any way.”
“There doesn’t have to be child abuse; we’re talking about kidnapping,” Oziel said in his dry way.
“They took Erin in from a shelter and raised her; gave her a much better home than she had, which is why she’s so loyal to Stedman. If they took the children you’re investigating, they must have been rescuing them from a bad situation.”
“If they took the children, they broke the law.”
Jovanic returned to the kitchen then and took his place at the table. “MVPD sent a deputy over to the Barton girl’s place. Someone came to the door and said there was no problem. No sounds of a child in distress. Nothing for them to investigate.”
“ ‘Someone’ answered? But who? Tabby? Rodney?” Claudia asked, frustrated.
“The deputy didn’t say, but he felt everything was okay there.” Jovanic turned to Oziel. “You said on the phone that you’re close to moving on the Jephthah house in Colorado?”
“Yes, Ms. Rose and I were just discussing that. That’s why we wanted her and Ms. Brennan clear of the Ark compound.”
Claudia figured she knew what he meant, but said it aloud anyway. “You mean in case there’s violence, don’t you?”
Oziel turned to her, his expression as bland as vanilla yogurt. “In case there are any problems. Now, one more question: Who would you guess might be the most vulnerable person there? Someone we might be able to turn?”
“What about Rodney? He might be willing to talk now that he’s left the Ark. Or Talbot, if you could track him down—the man who was just excommunicated.”
“We will be making an attempt to talk to Mr. Powers, but he hasn’t broken any laws that we’re aware of, so his cooperation would be strictly voluntary. His disagreement with his wife is not our concern. What does concern us is the Colorado temple and those missing children.”
Jovanic said, “Powers had planned for his daughter to go there; he might know something more about it.”
Claudia shook her head. “Every time someone started to mention it to me, they got cut off. It’s supposed to be secret from outsiders.”
Agent Oziel stood and picked up his briefcase, signaling an end to the meeting. “At least we can question Powers.”
Claudia followed him to the door. “Seems like Erin would have to have had a pretty compelling reason to lie to get us into the compound.”
“Being instructed by Harold Stedman would probably be reason enough,” Jovanic suggested.
Oziel turned, his hand on the doorknob. “These people are under the total influence and control of their leaders. You saw what happened to Ms. Brennan. They’ll go to great lengths to get what they want.”
“There’s an elderly woman at the Ark you might want to talk to. She was complaining about the Jephthah program. Her name is Oka Diehl and I can tell you, she wanted to talk.”
The two men exchanged a glance. Jovanic said, “Agent Oziel got word this afternoon that Mrs. Diehl passed away during the night.”
The news hit her like a sucker punch.“Oh God.It didn’t have anything to do with her talking to me, did it?”
“There was a kink in her oxygen tube,” Oziel said. “It’s a fairly rare occurrence, but it happens. The doctor wrote emphysema as the cause of death.”
“She was worried about something; she believed something odd was going on.” Claudia pictured the wizened little woman, dwarfed in her La-Z-Boy, and felt sad. Oka Diehl had been a character, but she was a smart woman.
As she told them about George Diehl’s involvement with the elders and his wife’s concern about the Ark’s food supply, Claudia caught Agent Oziel staring at her intently. She knew he was judging every word she said, making a determination about her credibility, and she had no doubt that he would check with his undercover operative to corroborate her statement.
Chapter 24
When the door closed behind Oziel, Jovanic’s arms went around Claudia, drawing her to him. He cupped her face in his hands. “I missed you, baby.”
“I missed you, too.”
They shared a long, deep kiss, and it would have been so easy to just give herself over to the moment. But she knew her thoughts would be far from where they should be, where she wanted them to be. He released her and she stepped away. “Where does Tabby live, Joel? We have to go there. Right now.”
He rolled his eyes and gave a resigned sigh. “I knew that was on your mind.”
“We don’t know who it was that came to the door at her house.”
“It was probably Powers.”
“Or not. The sheriff didn’t even say whether the person was male or female, did he? And I bet you didn’t ask. Jeez.”
“If it wasn’t Powers, it was probably Tabby. It’s her house.”
“Tabby would have been unmistakable with that purple streak. The deputy would have mentioned if it had been her.”
“Okay, who else?”
“Erin could have called someone when she left Kelly’s. She might have got Tabby’s address from Rita or Stedman.” Claudia went over to the small table by the front door where she had left her purse and keys. “Everything might be fine, but I just have an intuition about it. . . .”
“And your intuition is never wrong?” Jovanic’s cop skepticism wasn’t even thinly veiled.
She opened the door. “You don’t have to come, but I’m going. Just give me the address.”
He took the keys from her hand. “Not so fast, Grapho Lady. I’ll drive.”
Claudia smiled back at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
They were speeding along the Pomona Freeway when Claudia’s cell phone rang.
Kelly’s voice, pitched high, furious. “Erin left some stuff behind in her room. I found a note in the trash signed by Rodney; completely different writing style from the one she showed us—I didn’t have to be a handwriting expert to see that. The little bitch was lying to us all along. It was a goodbye note—”
“I know,” Claudia interrupted. She told Kelly about her conversation with Rodney, and that they were on their way to Moreno Valley, where Tabby Barton lived.
“Where is it?” Kelly demanded. “I’ll meet you over there.”
“Stay home, Kel, I’ll call you when—”
“Are you crazy? This is my sister; I’m the one who got the most screwed in this whole deal. I’m gonna throttle her. In fact, that girl’s gonna experience some holy terror.”
“That’s exactly why you need to stay home.”
“Listen to me, Claudia. Thanks to Erin’s little scheme I slept the whole damned day away and I don’t know what’s been put in my head. But I’m wide awake now, and in case you couldn’t tell, I’m pissed as hell. I’m in my car and if you don’t give me Tabby’s address, I’m going to the fucking Ark—I’m already halfway there—and I promise you, I will find out where she is. Now, give me the fucking address.”
“Where are you?”
“On the 210. I just passed the Sunflower exit.”
That meant Kelly was fast approaching the Orange Freeway, the 57. They were driving parallel, Kelly about ten miles to the north and a few miles east. She would soon be headed south and would arrive at a point where Claudia and Jovanic would pass about ten minutes later.
Claudia looked at the paper in her hand where Jovanic had scribbled the address. She recited it with reluctance. “Promise you won’t go in by yourself. Promise you’ll wait for us.”
“Bye-bye, Claudia.”
The call disconnected and Claudia looked over at Jovanic in dismay. It wasn’t hard to inject urgency into her tone. “We’ve
got to get there first. I think she’s been drinking. There’s no telling what she might do.”
The speedometer was already at ninety and Jovanic was weaving through traffic with the skill of Steve Mc-Queen in Bullitt. “Too bad we don’t have lights and a siren,” he said. “Hang on, babe, and watch for the CHP.”
She could hear enjoyment in his voice as his foot mashed down on the accelerator. The old XJ6 flew; 170 horsepower handling like a brand-new machine. They were passing University Avenue in Riverside when a sea of red taillights ahead was a good reason to hit the brakes.
“Damn it! What’s going on?” Claudia switched on the radio. “Traffic and Weather together on the Fives . . . Fender-bender on the Pomona has traffic backed up past Central. All lanes blocked, CHP responding. Expect fifteen- to twenty-minute delays.”
“Hell. I wonder if Kelly got ahead of that mess.”
Jovanic made a derisive noise. “I just hope she didn’t cause it.”
Claudia had privately been thinking the same thing, but hearing him say it out loud knotted her stomach with anxiety. “Damn it,” she said again. She had programmed Tabitha Barton’s address into her GPS and she now checked the display screen. “We exit at Perris Boulevard. It’s only another ten miles.”
“Right now we’re doing about five miles an hour. You do the math.”
By the time they had inched up to the accident, two Highway Patrol cars and a fire engine were in the fast lane. An SUV was on its side in the center divider. Three people talking with the cops and no ambulance at the scene—no injuries. Claudia gave a sigh of relief as they passed. No red Mustang meant no Kelly.
Once Jovanic was able to fully accelerate again, the Perris Boulevard exit came up fast. They went south and followed the GPS directions through a middle-class neighborhood that deteriorated as soon as they turned the first corner. Even in the darkness, Claudia could tell that the homes on this block were smaller and not as well kept.