by Sylvia Sarno
Now, Ann was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to hide her thoughts from Chet. She wasn’t sure why, but in her mind there was something that she needed to keep from him. She stepped into the hall. She could hear Chet and Richard’s voices in the kitchen. Chet was probably wondering where she was. Ann passed her trembling hands over her hair, took a deep breath, and pushed the kitchen door open.
Distracted, the pastor kept looking around as if he were expecting someone other than Ann and Richard to suddenly appear. There was something new in Chet’s eyes that made Ann start. His tone, too, was more urgent than usual. Chet accepted a shot of whiskey from Richard, downing it in one gulp. He talked about his mother’s letters and her will, still angry that he was denied the bulk of his mother’s estate.
Ann was grateful she’d had a chance to fill Richard in on her conversation with Kika. Her husband was doing his best to make Chet feel welcome in their home—a first for him—in the hopes, Ann realized, of getting Chet to open up about Pastor Todd.
When Chet’s gaze settled on her, Ann caught a glimpse of something sinister in his eyes—a small but real hint of evil. She remembered how Nora had blamed religion for robbing her son of his objectivity. His reason.
Ann quickly reproached herself for thinking mean things about Chet; no person had done more for her and her family than he had. Yet, there was something different about the pastor. Ann found herself looking at him with detachment as her mind furiously sorted through a jumble of facts. And then, as if a veil had been stripped from her eyes, she realized that she had taken everything Chet had said as truth. From the start, Richard had warned her that it was all wrong. Good people didn’t use your tragedy to draw you into a way of life that was the very opposite of who you are.
Praying for Travis’s safe return was not only useless because there is no God, it was destructive. After discovering that Kika hadn’t kidnapped Travis, Ann could have retrenched and looked at the situation in a different light. Prayer and Chet’s incessant talk about Jesus and salvation had encouraged her to be passive.
Ann felt a sudden urge to be alone, to think of what needed to be done next. She stood up. “Chet, I’m sorry. But Richard and I have some things to do this afternoon. Let’s talk tomorrow. Okay?”
Chet frowned. “I’ll be out of town this weekend.”
“New Way’s annual retreat, right?” Ann hoped that he wouldn’t detect the falseness in her voice. “You know. I think it would be a good experience for me and Richard. I really do. Would it be okay if we came?”
Chet looked uncomfortable. “We’re having a hard time fitting everyone who did sign up. Maybe next year.”
She hid her disappointment behind a big smile. “No worries. I understand.” Linking her arm through the pastor’s, Ann accompanied him to the front door and hugged him goodbye.
She walked back to the kitchen, feeling puzzled. “I wonder why Chet changed his mind,” she said to her husband. “He was so eager to get me to the retreat. Now he doesn’t seem to want me anywhere near the place.”
“It’s fine with me,” Richard said. “I don’t want to spend any more time with him than I have to.”
Ann felt a tightness in her throat. “I’m afraid for Travis, Richard. What his kidnappers will do. The thought of him being hurt…”
“Remember,” Richard said his voice reassuring. “Given that Travis had the freedom to call us it’s unlikely they would suddenly harm him. And who knows. Maybe he hung up the phone himself. Remember our kid’s no dummy. His mischievous ways have probably served him well by keeping him one step ahead of his captors.”
“You’re right,” Ann said. “If I think too much about things, I’ll get so scared I won’t be able to function. Richard, about Chet. I saw something scary in his eyes today. I think he’s up to something, but I can’t figure out what.” She grew more anxious thinking of her new friend. “Kika hasn’t called me back. I think I’ll go check on her.”
Richard pulled her close. “Let me kiss you first.”
When they separated, Ann’s voice was low against her husband’s chest. “Without Chet and the church, I know we’ll have to go it alone. In a way that’s scary, but as long as I know Travis is alive, I feel hopeful.”
She looked up into her husband’s clear eyes. For the first time in more than a month, Richard looked young again. “You had lost touch with your inner strength,” he said. “You blamed yourself for Travis’s disappearance. But it wasn’t your fault. The unearned guilt that you felt undercut your ability to see the situation clearly. You took on needless risk, nearly getting yourself killed. Twice.”
Ann’s voice was small. “At the first sign of trouble I went nuts.”
“You just didn’t think things through,” Richard said. “You were driven by a kind of manic need to prove you’re not a bad mother. That’s why you took such crazy risks and jumped to wild conclusions. Truth is you’re a wonderful mother and wife, Annie. But for some reason you don’t see it.”
Her eyes misted. “When I couldn’t live up to my super mom, super wife, super everything standards, I felt like a failure.”
“You just need to slow down,” Richard said. “Take a deep breath, and look at things as they really are. When you do, you’ll see that you’re pretty much wonderful.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.
“You know me better than I know myself, sometimes,” Ann said, smiling through her tears. She was worried about her friend. “Kika said she would call me as soon as she talked to Pastor Todd. I left so many messages, but I haven’t heard from her.”
“Why don’t you go check on her. It’ll put your mind at ease,” Richard said. He thought for a moment. “You know. As much as I loathe the idea of seeing any more of Chet March, maybe we should go to that retreat to see if we can’t figure out what he’s up to. We’ll head out when you get back from Kika’s. Meanwhile, I’ll pack a few things. What do you say?”
“You’re concerned about Chet too, aren’t you?”
“Things aren’t adding up,” Richard said. “You see the way he gulped that whiskey?”
“Do you think maybe you feel this way about Chet because he’s so religious?” Ann asked, remembering her husband’s hostile comments about Chet’s faith.
Richard shook his head. “I don’t think so. Look at Kika. She’s pretty devout herself and she’s fine.”
Ann kissed her husband on the lips. “Thanks for agreeing to go to the retreat. I really didn’t want to go there alone.” She started for the door. “As soon as I get back we’ll head out. I’m dying to hear from Kika what happened with Pastor Todd.”
Ann stepped onto Kika’s front porch and rang the door bell. The window shades were drawn. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Glancing around, Ann noticed that the ashtray on the porch table overflowed with butts. She hadn’t known Kika smoked.
The door opened and Kika appeared. “I got your messages, Ann. Sorry I didn’t call you back. Come in.”
3:30 P.M.
Richard clenched the steering wheel. “Call Tom now!”
“Being Kika’s father’s not a crime,” Ann said. “Besides, I want to talk to Pannikin and see what he has to say for himself.”
Her husband glanced at the car’s GPS map and then at the clock. “We should be in Pine Wood in forty-five minutes. Look. I’m calling Tom the minute I see things even hinting in the wrong direction.”
“What do you expect to happen?”
“I’m not sure. Something.”
“Can you be more specific?” Ann asked.
“Look. We just learned that Nora’s supposedly dead daughter is in fact Kika Garcia and that Pannikin is her father. Not only that, Todd kidnapped his own daughter because Nora had different ideas from his on how to raise their child. Todd Pannikin is a kidnapper and a liar. And maybe a killer. And Chet’s his partner.”
Richard’s right. Something’s terribly wrong. Her hands to her temple, Ann tried to connect what she knew to what she just learned from
Kika. Chet had tried so hard to convince Ann that God was the key to happiness. And he had badgered his mother about her salvation, insisting that Nora would go to hell because she didn’t believe in God.
The bathtub full of water… Nora’s swollen face….
A cold sweat crept along Ann’s neck. Things were starting to make sense... She pulled her husband’s arm. “I think Chet killed his mother!”
The car swerved. “What the hell, Ann! I almost hit that truck.”
“I’m sorry. Listen, Richard. I think Chet killed his mother.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“It makes sense,” Ann said. “Pannikin gave his daughter away to ensure she’d be raised as a Christian. Nora left all those messages about Travis. She must have figured out that Chet took Travis to raise him as a Christian. Chet strangled his own mother to keep her from revealing his plan. Then he put her in a tub of water. That part never made any sense to me, until now. Why did the killer go to the trouble of putting his victim in a tub of water after he killed her? Chet tried to baptize Nora—to wash away her sins. That’s why!”
Ann’s mind raced over the pile of facts she’d been collecting for weeks about Travis and the other missing kids. Mrs. Aziz had had words with a family whose teenager she had counseled. The parents had complained to the Ridgeview High principal that Mrs. Aziz’s advice to their child about his church commitments was not in keeping with their Christian beliefs. Could it be that the family belonged to New Way?
Dr. Aziz had broken the news to the family of a car accident victim that their teenager was brain dead. He had told the parents that there was zero chance their child would recover, explaining that many people in their situation would disconnect life support. When asked what he would do in their situation, Dr. Aziz admitted that he would do the same. Could it be that the parents of this accident victim had somehow believed that Dr. Aziz was advocating killing their son? Were these people members of Chet’s church?
Ann gave voice to her thoughts. “Don’t you see?” she said to her husband. “The Villarreals didn’t baptize their daughter. Their in-laws made a huge fuss about it. Reyna said her in-laws were devout Christians. Are you following me? And then there’s Dr. and Mrs. Aziz. If the parents of this student she had counseled were New Way members, that would explain how Mrs. Aziz came to Chet’s attention. The parents must have complained to their pastors that this Muslim woman was trying to turn their son away from Christianity. Todd and Chet probably wanted to save Hanna from her “Jesus-hating” parents.
“And then Dr. Aziz and the parents of the brain dead teenager,” Ann continued. “And we’re atheists—” She stopped to catch her breath. “Chet said that if I accept Jesus we’d get Travis back. He meant it literally, Richard. He kidnapped Travis because we’re not Christians!”
The speedometer climbed to ninety.
“Listen, Ann. Pannikin’s bound to realize that in telling Kika the reason he gave her up, he’s revealed his and Chet’s secret. Especially since he knows you helped Kika find him out.”
“Do you realize what this means?” Ann said. “We’ll see Travis again!”
Richard’s face was grim. “Look. If they did take him—we’re not even sure that they did—there’s no telling what they’ll do once Pannikin realizes he’s disclosed their motive. We’ll need the police.”
“If they see law enforcement they’ll freak out,” Ann countered. “Our best bet is to play along with them. If they think we’ll convert to Christianity then we’ll get Travis back.”
“There’s one wrinkle in all this. In fact two. If Chet killed Nora, that makes him more dangerous. And more desperate. No wonder they don’t want us at the retreat! Travis could be in danger, Ann.”
“That’s my point,” she cried. “If they get wind the police are involved they’ll know their game is up and then Travis is really in danger.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the police already suspect Chet killed Nora,” Richard said, shaking his head. “Tom asked a lot of questions about their relationship, and Chet’s work at the church. The more I think about it, maybe we should tell Tom. But call Kika first. She deserves to know what’s going on.”
“Good idea.” Ann tried Kika’s number, but her friend wasn’t answering. She left Kika a message, urging her to barricade herself in the house. Next, Ann tried Tom Long’s number. No answer there. Same for Julian Fox.
4:00 P.M.
Todd Pannikin pulled into the dirt parking space and shut off the car engine. His home for the next three days looked just as it had a year ago—the same peeling paint and the plain wooden door blanched by summer heats and winter snows. The narrow, rectangular window close to the roof of the small dwelling reminded him of a prison cell.
Before arriving at the cabin, Pastor Todd had stopped by the wooded retreat site to check on the security details, the food arrangements, and the family tents, home—for the duration of the retreat—to New Way’s most devout. New Way’s ministry leaders and their army of volunteers had done a great job. The sound system was in place, the barbecues ready to go, the food trucks were unloaded, and the long picnic tables were covered in red and white checkered tablecloths.
Pastor Todd had stopped to shake hands with attendees eager for some personal attention from their leader. Greeting, welcoming, and waving as fast as he could, he had walked swiftly from spot to spot checking on all the arrangements. His review complete, Todd headed back to his cabin for a few moments of rest and a shower before the opening banquet.
Now, Todd sat at the wooden table inside the cabin door, phone in hand. Chet should have called by now. He stood up and moved to the bed. The mattress on the twin bed sagged ominously under a nubby, tan blanket. Groaning, Todd lifted his legs up. He was seventy, but these days he felt much older.
Joining his hands together, Todd closed his eyes. His mind began to drift. He recalled his youth all those years ago, in Mexico. He and Nora had been so happy. But things changed when she got pregnant. Their baby daughter was born so tiny and defenseless; she would have been lost forever, if Nora had had her way. And now Cristina was beautiful and scornful. A single tear slipped onto the blanket. Todd didn’t bother wiping it. There would be others.
Todd’s thoughts drifted to the situation at hand. He had been rash. In telling Cristina the truth about why he had given her up, he had jeopardized their entire operation. He prayed Chet had been careful and thorough.
His phone’s shrill tones jarred the silence. Todd struggled to his feet. “Chet!” he cried. “Where are you?”
5:00 P.M.
Ann stepped into Room 3 at the Pine Wood Victorian Bed and Breakfast and flicked on the light. “Do you believe what the manager told us?” she said to her husband as she shut the door. “The town’s bracing for a lot of visitors this weekend. The retreat’s gonna be packed.”
Richard swung his bag onto the double bed. “We’re lucky they had a last minute cancellation.”
“This place is Victorian all right. It’s so musty in here.” Ann walked to the window and pushed the lace curtains aside. A wave of dust drifted onto the white painted table propped against the window. The inn’s parking lot was jammed with cars. “We’ll need more information on the campsite.”
While Richard drove, Ann had used her phone to book their room. She mapped out the retreat site, the police, and fire stations. In Pine Wood, they drove past the wooded camp and by the police station. They wanted to be prepared for what lay ahead.
“I’ll pick up some dinner,” Richard said. “Then we’ll make our plans.”
Ann lay down on the double bed and nursed her thoughts. According to New Way’s website, the kick-off dinner would start at six this evening. She glanced at her watch. In one hour. From their reconnaissance, they had discovered that the retreat site was surrounded by a twelve-foot-high chain link fence as far as they could see. Large signs posted at the entrance notified retreat participants that identification was required to enter. Two burly men
with German Shepherds were stopping arrivals and checking identification. A self-storage facility, a bait and tackle shop, and a car repair business, in a small strip mall across the street from the compound, were all shuttered.
Richard had stopped the car a few yards past the entrance to the compound and pretended to consult a map while Ann craned her neck to see what was going on at the gates. Minutes later, Richard pulled into the gravel driveway and signaled for one of the guards to come to the car. The beefier of the two men had sidled over.
Richard had insisted the fake name he gave the guard was mistakenly left off the guest list. The guard refused them entry. Richard had pulled away, but not before learning some important facts about the site. There were cabins scattered throughout the wooded property. Big tents at the back of the property housed the larger families. There were several buildings used for meetings, a few fields, and a small lake. A second entrance to the compound was located on the main plaza in the center of town. This pedestrian-only entrance, the guard explained, was also manned. “To keep out the townies,” he had said with a toothy smile.
Richard entered their hotel room, carrying bags filled with food. “I bring Chinese food and great news,” he said, smiling.
Ann scooted off the bed. “What?”
“They found Sabela Villarreal alive.”
“How did you find out?”
Richard placed the food on the table by the window. Then he pulled the table and two chairs away from the wall, so they would have room to sit. “It’s all over the radio,” he said, lifting take-out boxes from the bags. “I’ll tell you while we eat. I’m starving.”
Buoyed by the news that Sabela Villarreal had been found, Ann’s appetite exploded. Twice piling her paper plate with food, she listened to Richard recount the details. Sabela was found in a wooded area in the rural community of Ramona, thirty miles east of San Diego. A group of hikers had spotted Sabela lying unconscious, on the ground, near a trail. She was dressed in a dirty sweater, pants, and muddy sneakers. Unable to rouse the child, the hikers called 911. The child was airlifted to Hillcrest Hospital where it was determined she was in a coma.