I gave an interview with the local paper about Sheriff Hancock, gushing over him like mad and even outright saying someone should look into my allegations. I intended to write an email to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette anonymously suggesting they investigate as well when I got back to my grandparents’ house. I also shook hands with all fifty-odd guests and signed as many autographs. Almost all the women, and quite a few of the men, asked about my “boyfriend,” and I managed to answer sweetly that Luke and I were just friends. Not a one hid their disappointment that he wasn’t in town. How I managed to keep my smile on when two women gave me their phone numbers to pass on to him, I do not know. If Luke ever came to town, I worried he’d need bodyguards to keep the women off him as if he were Harry Styles or something. Or I’d just rip them to shreds myself.
My father and his entourage fought valiantly to mitigate the damage I was doing to their candidate. When I’d move on to the next cluster, they’d swoop in on the people I left and perform their song and dance. We’d have to wait to see who they believed when the checks and votes began rolling in. I stayed past my allotted hour until everyone in that room was charmed. It was actually Hancock who suggested it was time to leave. As always, he was right. I was fading fast. Ever the good guy, he offered to walk me to my car. “You certainly were the belle of the ball,” Hancock said as we walked out of the club.
“I prefer ‘Prodigal Daughter’ or ‘Champion of Grey Mills.’ ”
“After tonight I’ll call you whatever you want,” Hancock chuckled. “You were amazing.”
“Always,” I said with a smirk.
“Really. Thank you, Nancy Drew. You’re…”
I touched his arm. “Hey, don’t get all sentimental on me. I just try to pay my debts and I still owe you like a million, sir. You ever need me again, I’m there.”
“I know.”
We said our goodbyes, and I pulled out of the parking lot with a smile. For some reason as I drove away from that den of elitism, my thoughts turned to all the people at The Temple and their stories. Even without talking to every member, I knew there wasn’t a person there without parental issues. Unstable mothers, absent fathers, neglect, emotional and physical abuse. As I contemplated that fact, I realized how lucky I’d been to have my grandparents. Sheriff Hancock. Even Joyce. Their acceptance and support helped fill that father-shaped hole inside me. Each in their own way bolstered me when they had no true reason to. They barely got anything out of it, but they still did it. Maybe it really did take a village to raise a child. And unfortunately, the village my brother and all those other lost souls currently inhabited was run by a vampire slowly sucking out whatever strength and soul they still possessed. Well, not on my watch. I was raised to be strong, to help even if I got precious little out of the exchange. I had to honor all the faith those amazing people in my life placed in me. It would be inhuman to do otherwise.
And no one was ever going to call me my father’s daughter.
—
Thanks to the coffee I’d practically mainlined before and during the cocktail party, I was too wired to sleep when I got home. Thankfully I had some heavy reading to lull me to sleep. The files Hancock gave me contained stories of lives ruined before they ever got a chance to begin. So much wasted potential. So much misery. There were often days on the job when I grew ashamed to be a member of the human race. The damage we do to ourselves and others for so little was mind boggling. Of course, this came from someone who’d recently spent two years at the bottom of various bottles after she flat-out executed a man.
All but two of the fingerprint samples I gave Hancock had produced an extensive police record, and all had drug or alcohol convictions. Dutch was the worst of the bunch, with a manslaughter conviction for beating a man to death in a bar fight when he was four times over the legal limit. Reading that, I was glad I’d gotten Mom to back down. But he wasn’t my main focus. That position belonged to Megan and Paul.
Paul was born Paul Roselli in Cleveland, Ohio. He was twenty-two years old and had been arrested four times for prostitution and heroin possession. I was sure there was more of the same in his juvie file, but Hancock couldn’t get access to those records. Paul had told me the truth. Every horror he’d endured was verified in his file. My stomach actually clenched in shame as I read. Beaten in his home and his group home, pimped out, running drugs. Tragic, but not helpful in finding Billy. I had to focus on that or I couldn’t get through this.
Megan’s rap sheet proved far more illuminating. Megan Amber Snyder was twenty-six, with quite the varied criminal career. There was one conviction for prostitution and OxyContin possession, but the identity theft, extortion, forging, and fraud charges were surprising. Per the file, she and her father, Hank Snyder, ran scams all around Philadelphia and Pittsburgh from at least the time she was fifteen to nineteen. Her prior bad acts had been admitted as evidence at her trial. Mostly honeypot cons or blackmailing a guy for sleeping with an underage girl. When her father was caught, he went down for twenty years and she for two. Hancock provided her parents’ rap sheets too, bless him. Between them they had over a dozen arrests for fraud, extortion, theft, forgery, identity theft, and drug running. Her mother, Lorelai, had gone down twice with her husband but OD’d when Megan was ten. Megan was literally born a grifter. Just maybe not a great one. She got out of prison and two months later was arrested again for fraud. She spent another year in prison, then six months later came the prostitution/drug conviction. Another six months in prison. Nothing since. If what she’d told me was true, she would have met Mathias a few months after getting released the last time. Was Mathias one of her father’s old friends? I made a mental note to look up all of Papa Snyder’s known associates in the morning. My eyes were growing heavy after a dozen files, so I closed Megan’s, shut off the light, and lay down.
Megan had to know what Mathias was up to. Yet I still felt she actually believed in his garbage. Or just in him. Maybe she knew she was conning people but thought it was for a good reason. To help people. To help create a family. To retire to Cabo. The fact that she was offered just probation if she turned on her father and refused the deal indicated she was loyal. As my brief stint in undercover work showed me, it was hard not to grow close to people even when you knew there was something rotten in the state of Denmark. It was easy to get lost in the fantasy. The way she defended Helen against Mom, ready to literally draw blood, led me to believe she genuinely cared for her. Of course, this protectiveness and loyalty made me nervous about their next move.
I needed to devise a new plan. Several were formulated, but none were that spectacular. I could stake out The Temple and tail a member to the farm, but I could end up following the wrong person, get caught, and then I’d be fucked. They could have me arrested for stalking or order everyone to avoid The Apex from then on. Plus it would mean I was stuck in a car for potentially days in the middle of summer. Not ideal. The only other option I could think of was to put pressure on the group. A few of the members were on parole, and consorting with other known criminals was a violation. I had their names. Anonymous calls to the parole office did happen. If I had to make those calls, I would do it, but only as a last resort. My pressure could endanger Billy, and it would make me feel guilty as hell for sending people attempting to get their lives together back to prison. Option three, and I actually was proud of myself for thinking of it, was to go to the county tax office and find every property in Niagaraville larger than fifty acres and check it out. “Thank you, brain,” I whispered to myself. A trip to the county assessor’s office. Oh, joy. Of course after the day I’d had, I could definitely stand a little boring.
Yeah. Right. You plan, God laughs.
After a few hours of blissful oblivion, my cellphone rang around six A.M. It was clear across the room, so I just let it ring. I half-dozed for a while before it began ringing again. “Fuck,” I muttered. It took all my reserve energy to force myself out of my semi-comfortable bed and get it off the charger. I didn’t reco
gnize the number, but I was still half asleep. “Hello?”
“Hello, Carol,” a familiar woman said on the other end.
It took me a second to connect the dots. “Megan?”
“How’s that gorgeous ass of yours this fine morning?” she asked seductively.
It was too early for games. “Uh, tired. What do you want?”
“Since you naked in my bed is apparently no longer in the cards, Agent Ballard, I have something else to brighten your day. Of course, since I’m in a generous mood this morning, you can have both.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please just get to why you’ve called.”
“Twenty-six seventy-nine Chariot Road, Niagaraville.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Apex. That’s the address.”
And I was suddenly wide awake. “What?”
“Mathias gave his permission. You’re expected at nine A.M. You’re welcome.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“After you left last night, I brought him your request. Apparently he meditated about it all night and the universe told him we should welcome you with open arms. That Billy needs closure before committing himself totally to his true path. He realized you are the universe’s instrument in doing that.”
Yeah. Right. And my threats had nothing to do with it, I thought. “And he’s just going to let me walk onto the farm?”
“Of course. We have nothing to hide,” she said, toeing the company line. “Really the only condition is that you respect Billy’s wishes. If he chooses to stay, you respect the decision. And since it is a sanctuary, you and only you are welcome. No police, no FBI or anyone else.”
“I told you, no one else is involved. No one else cares,” I lied.
“Forgive me, Carol, if we don’t trust much of what you say,” Megan said. “And know that when Billy does decide to stay, if you do persist in bothering us, we will have to get a restraining order. I’m sure the press would love to hear about the manipulation, the stalking, even the threesome you and I had with Paul yesterday afternoon all while you were lying about who you really were.”
“We didn’t—”
“Paul and I will swear you did. What will that do to the great hero’s reputation, I wonder?”
She was bluffing. The group would be thrust into the spotlight, and with the spotlight came attention and scrutiny. They didn’t want that. I hoped. “Dial it back, Megan. There’s no need for threats.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise, Carol. Twenty-six seventy-nine Chariot Road, Niagaraville. Nine A.M. You alone.” She hung up.
I quickly found a pen and wrote the address down. My breath was unsteady as I did. That whole conversation had gotten my adrenaline pumping. I’d done it. I was going to see my brother. Talk to him. Hug him. The happiness proved fleeting as I realized what I’d just agreed to. I was going to a desolate farm full of zealots with a leader I’d threatened. There was a real chance it was all a trap. That I’d arrive at the address to an ambush. I could be raped. Murdered. Buried in a field, never to be seen again. The chance was small, but there was still a chance. Was Billy worth it?
I instantly hated myself for even thinking of backing out.
I was being ridiculous. There were easy safety measures I could implement. Not to mention they’d be absolute morons to harm me. Of course, one should never underestimate the stupidity of human beings. But I was going. I had to go. For Gia. For Mom. For my grandparents. For Billy.
God, some days it really sucked being a good person.
Chapter 10
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I drove to The Apex. I had to focus on keeping them steady as I steered. I considered turning the car around several times but never acted on the impulse. I was being ridiculous; I was in no more danger than when I went to The Temple. And I had taken every precaution. I’d borrowed Grandpa’s gun and holster, making sure to wear baggy pants to hide the fact that I sported a gun on my ankle. I’d left a message for the sheriff with the address and instructions that if he hadn’t heard from me by noon, he should send in the cavalry. I even downloaded a program on my laptop that showed and recorded where the GPS on my phone was so there’d be a record just in case. I considered scheduling an email to Luke to go out at noon with everything I’d learned and information about the meet, but decided it should go to Hancock instead. If the shit did go down, I didn’t want Luke’s name in any way tied to my mess. And to be extra safe, I called the number Megan had used that morning and laid out some of my safety measures on a voicemail. She didn’t call back.
About ten minutes away from the farm, as I was trying to enjoy the rolling hills of farmland and grazing cows in the fields—okay, I was really concentrating on not shitting my pants—my phone rang. Not even the tranquil view did much to assuage my nerves. I gasped with the first ring. “Jesus,” I muttered after a sigh.
It was Hancock. Finally. “Hello, Sheriff.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“And good morning to you too.”
“You are not actually going to that farm alone, are you?”
“I absolutely am. In fact I’m almost there.”
“Iris…have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Not recently, no.”
“Now is not the time for sarcasm, Iris.”
“It’s always time for sarcasm.” That quip met with dead air. I sighed. “Look, I’ve taken every precaution. I know this is a risk, but it’s a calculated risk. They have far too much to lose if they harm me.”
“Yeah, cults are often known for their logic,” Hancock said.
He got me there. “This is what I came here to do, sir, and this is probably my one opportunity to do it.”
“And what, Iris? You think Mathias is just going to let you poke around? Interrogate his people? Waltz out with Billy? He doesn’t have some ulterior motive?”
“Of course I don’t think that. I’m not a moron, sir. He’s doing this to size me up. He probably thinks he can con me like the others. He has dozens of followers a little over a year in. He’s probably gotten cocky. He’s going to show me heaven on Earth and shiny, happy people, my brother included. But I’m going to see him too. Face-to-face. I may even find a way to get his fingerprints. Besides, I let his little henchwoman know that if they do harm me, they’re going to have the police and FBI on their doorstep within hours.”
“That won’t do you much good if they shoot you on sight,” he pointed out.
He was trying to scare me. It was working. “Then I expect you to avenge me. And I expect you to get Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans to help you.”
“Always with the sarcasm. That won’t save you from a bullet either.”
I wasn’t used to having someone worried about my safety. I’d forgotten how annoying it could be. “Don’t worry about me until noon, okay? I have to go. I’m doing this. I’ll keep my phone on and if the location changes, I’ll call the station, okay?”
“Just be careful. Please.”
“I always am. Talk to you later. Bye.”
I hung up before he could erode my sense of invulnerability further. It was nice of him to worry. I was just glad I hadn’t told Mom or my grandparents. Mom would have needed sedation, Grandma would have tried to convince me not to go, and Grandpa would have just tied me to the bed. If something did go sideways and Hancock had to tell them, especially Mom, he’d locate my corpse just to kick my ass.
But nothing was going to go wrong. At least not physically.
My real concern was what would happen when I saw my brother. After all of this, he might just spit in my face when he saw me. That was a real possibility, since I’d hurt his new family with my Carol routine. I knew there was no chance he’d miraculously see the light in one conversation and leave with his new bride, going back to a world where he had no job, no prospects, and the realization he’d put all his eggs in a corrupted basket. The most I could expect was to plant a few seeds of doubt and pray they grew.
I had enough information to assemble a preliminary profile on Mathias Morning. He was between fifty-five and seventy-five, of above-average intelligence, with no formal education. He came from a good home, a structured home with multiple siblings. He rebelled, probably due to his sexuality, and left the family unit. He drifted around committing petty crimes, most likely fraud, and he’d set up a cult before. New Morningism was too organized, too advanced, for a beginner. He enjoyed having complete control over people, and wouldn’t drink or do drugs as he couldn’t stand to lose that control for a moment. Power was his drug of choice. And with a desire for power came hubris. Every criminal suffered from a degree of hubris, of invincibility. It was always their downfall. I intended to make sure it was Mathias Morning’s as well.
The GPS instructed me to turn down a long dirt road in the heart of rural Niagaraville, and half a mile down a large house, a barn, and what looked like trailers and tents surrounded by a tall wooden fence came into view. From a distance, I could see that the fence wrapped around much of the fields surrounding the structures, possibly around all of their fifty-plus acres. I had a fence around my property too to keep people out. I wondered if that was this fence’s purpose. The closer I drove, the less I could see of the other structures. The fence had to be five feet tall. Eventually only the top of the white, three-story farmhouse and the white-painted roof of the red barn were visible. At least there is a farm, I thought as I reached the chain-link gate. I’m not at some field about to be ambushed. I hoped.
Darkness at the Edge of Town Page 18