By Laura K. Curtis
The Harp Security series
Twisted
Lost
Echoes
Mind Games
The Goody’s Goodies series
Toying with His Affections
Gaming the System
For all the everyday heroes who go out of their way to help others without hope of remuneration.
Contents
Cover
By Laura K. Curtis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Landmarks
Title Page
Dedication
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Copyright Page
Cover
Chapter One
THE DINNER HORN blew while Tara was literally mending fences. After five weeks with the Chosen, she was allowed to work alone, though always in sight of others. The various areas of the twenty-nine-hundred-acre compound were divided by a multitude of different types of fencing, all of which needed regular maintenance. Plain white pickets created a welcoming atmosphere at the front, despite the guards on duty. Eight-foot chain-link surrounded the buildings where group activities took place. Critter fencing protected the gardens, nets covered the fruit trees, and a hefty, wrought-iron barrier kept the unwelcome out of the Leader’s private domain.
At the sound of the air horn, Tara put down the wood-handled saw she’d been using to cut away the oak tree limb that had pushed its way through the chain-link on the northeast side of the complex and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She rolled her shoulders to relieve the ache that had settled in about half an hour before. What she wouldn’t give for a long, hot shower. But she had only twenty minutes to put her tools away, splash some water on her hands and face, and get to the mess hall before dinner was served. She’d learned the hard way that if you missed pre-dinner prayers, you missed dinner.
She slid inside the cavernous dining hall just before the sentries shut the door and took her place at one of the long trestle tables next to a woman named Joy, who had been assigned to show her around her first day at the compound. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Joy’s broad face gave her a vaguely Mexican look, but she spoke with a typical Texas drawl.
“Thanks for saving me a spot,” Tara said as she settled in beside the older woman. “I was out on the northern edge and I wasn’t sure I’d make it!”
“Is the fence repaired?”
“Not yet. I’m still getting the tree cut away. Then I can patch it.”
“One of the men should help you.”
Tara thought so, too, but she wasn’t about to complain. A chance to be alone among the Chosen was too valuable to squander. “They have their work. I can manage, even if I can’t go as quickly.”
Joy might have replied, but the sound of chimes indicated that the Leader was about to take the stage for the blessing of the meal. And this was no “Good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat” prayer, like the ones Tara had grown up with. No, the Leader usually droned on for a good fifteen minutes about the Powers and their importance and their great beneficence before shutting up and letting his followers eat. This was also the time he introduced any newcomers to the group.
Tara glanced at the small table at the front where those who were taking their first meal with the Chosen sat. She remembered her own dinner at that table. Having spent the day with Joy, she had been distressed to find herself left alone. The analytical part of her mind had understood: separating her from the woman who had been her guide left her vulnerable, more likely to look for security in the group dynamic. But men like the Leader used those techniques because they worked and, despite her recognition of the manipulation, they’d worked on her. She had appreciated it when the Leader sat with her, when he introduced her and everyone made her feel welcome.
At the table tonight were a man and three women, the most people Tara had ever seen at one time coming into the group. But then, the holidays were approaching, and the lost and lonely became needier when the leaves started to fall.
After the Leader finished his mumbo jumbo about not polluting the bodies that housed the eternal souls granted us by the Powers, he asked the newcomers to join him on the stage, leaning down to offer a hand to each of the three women as they climbed the stairs. The man followed behind them, shoulders stooped, with a slight hitch in his gait.
It wasn’t until all four faced the audience that Tara recognized him. All the blood rushed out of her head, and a wave of dizziness assailed her.
“Are you all right?” Joy whispered in her ear, a hand on Tara’s arm.
“I just . . . low blood sugar or something,” Tara choked out.
Good God, what was Jacob Nolan doing there? Did the FBI have something on the Chosen? But last she’d heard, Nolan had left the Bureau and was working full-time at computer programming. Of course, it had been months since she’d been in touch with anyone from her past. Perhaps he’d gone back to work.
If the FBI had sent Jake, what did that mean for Andrea, the girl whose disappearance had prompted Tara’s involvement with the Chosen? She blinked back the dizziness and concentrated on the Leader’s words.
“As you know, we welcome all who come to us seeking refuge from the troubles of the world outside. Here you will find the peace that comes with the acceptance of the Powers’ rule, and when you accept them into your heart, you will be accepted in turn.”
He put a hand on the first woman’s head. “This was Eloise. She has visited us off and on for almost three months, so many of you may recognize her. Today, she joins us and becomes Rachel.”
“Hello, Rachel, and welcome,” said the crowd.
“You may also recognize Janet, who has helped us with the harvest for several days. Today she joins our community as Mary.”
“Hello, Mary, and welcome.” Tara wondered how many of the members of the Chosen had been to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and whether the greetings sounded familiar to them.
“This was Suzanne. She heard about us and came from Louisiana to join us. Today, as a member of the Chosen, she becomes Charity.” Suzanne was petite, blonde, and curvy, and the Leader’s hand lingered on her head.
Then he turned to Jake. “Jason has also sought us out. Today, he is Chosen and becomes Jacob.” Neat trick. How had Jake convinced the Leader that he should be given the name Jacob? The Chosen were given names in a peculiar range from Old Testament reference to New Age sentiment, but it was too coincidental that Jake should be given his own back.
Dinner was served, and Tara mechanically put the food into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. The vegetable stew and homemade bread filled her belly, but she could barely taste them, so engrossed was she in her thoughts. How could she get close to Jake? As a new member, he would be assigned first-level chores and he would always have another man with him as a “guide.” She had at least another day on the fencing, and then she’d be given some other job to do, either alone or with another woman—rarely did the sexes mingle. With the exception of Sunday afternoons, when they were allowed a few hours of freedom, the acolytes’ days were scheduled from dawn to dusk, and most of them liked it that way. If she raised a fuss, or tried to buck the system, she’d never find Andrea.
Was it possible Jake knew Tara was in the group? Surely not. Which meant he was here on some kind of official busine
ss, since she didn’t believe for a minute he’d decided to sign up for real. What had he given as a cover story? He was thin to the point of gauntness, bruises darkened the skin beneath his eyes, and a heavy shadow covered what Tara knew to be a strong jaw. In short, he looked as if he’d been living rough for weeks, even months.
Tara didn’t believe that, either. Jake Nolan had money and smarts. Of course, he was also obsessively determined when he set his mind to something. She wouldn’t put it past him to starve himself and sleep in a field for a week for an undercover job. Still, she couldn’t help the twinge of concern over his appearance. Jake had taken leave from the FBI for a reason: his fanatical pursuit of answers had nearly destroyed him. What if he had strayed too close to the edge this time?
She didn’t realize how often she’d looked at him until Joy startled her with a poke in the ribs.
“He’s a handsome man.”
“Y-yes.” She felt a blush crawl up her cheeks. Well, better the woman thought Tara’s interest in Jake was sexual than she realize the truth.
“Maybe the Leader will assign him to help you with the fencing.”
“Oh no. I told you, I am doing fine.” Plus, luck had never smiled on Tara, and she didn’t expect it to start now. But Joy just winked, and Tara wondered whether the woman might be hatching some kind of matchmaking plan. Well, fine. If Joy had the Leader’s ear and could arrange for Jake to work with her, so much the better.
All night, Tara fretted in her bunk in the twelve-woman cabin. She had seen nothing to indicate the Chosen were involved in anything that might bring them to the FBI’s attention. Some separatist groups were dangerous, and many of the leaders were egotists if not worse, but she’d always believed the vast majority of members were simply average Joes and Janes trying to find a way through an overly complicated world. A bit credulous, maybe, but not bad at heart.
• • •
THE MORNING HORN found Tara with gritty eyes and an aching head. Crawling out of her bunk took every drop of her energy. She brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face, then headed back to the dining hall for breakfast with three of the other women from her cabin, one of whom—Aurora—was six months pregnant.
Aurora had explained to Tara that she’d run from her abusive boyfriend the moment she realized she was pregnant, landing with the Chosen after six weeks on her own. She slept in the bunk below Tara’s and chattered nonstop. Even, occasionally, in her sleep. Although she was probably only a few years younger than Tara’s own thirty, she made Tara feel ancient.
The four women entered the hall together, but one of the door sentries pulled Tara aside the minute they were inside.
“The Leader would like to speak with you,” he said. Tara’s heart pounded. Please God, Jake hadn’t betrayed her. Unable to speak, she nodded and followed the man, whose name she thought was Aaron, as he led her up to the front of the room.
“Serena,” the Leader said in his mellifluous baritone. “Joy has brought it to my attention that you could use a hand with the western fence.”
“Only for speed, Leader. I would not want to take someone else from their duties.” There, that sounded appropriately humble.
“Ah, but we would not wish you to suffer unduly in your service. You are precious to the Powers. Never forget that.”
“Yes, Leader.” Puke.
“Do you feel up to working with a new acolyte, being so fresh here yourself? It is a great responsibility, and one I do not request lightly.”
“If you are certain you wish to entrust me with such an honor, I would take the responsibility most seriously.”
“It is settled, then. This afternoon, you work with Jacob. Come after lunch and Aaron will introduce you.”
That left the morning, during which Tara worked in the laundry. Whereas afternoon duties lasted however long they took—from a day to month—morning assignments rotated on a biweekly basis. Although the laundry wasn’t fun, seeing as the camp had no air conditioning and the work made sweat roll down Tara’s face and neck and pool at the base of her spine, it was still better than collecting eggs, which had been her first post-breakfast job. Eggs, rice, and beans were the standard breakfast fare of the Chosen and, while Tara found the food dull, she did admire the group’s self-sufficiency. They raised their own chickens and had massive solar panels on all the roofs that provided the electricity for cooking and cleaning.
Not much else around the compound ran on electricity, though security lights dotted the area, each with its own solar panel. Someone had spent a small fortune outfitting the place, and not for the first time, Tara wished she’d had the resources to investigate the Chosen from the outside before coming in. But she’d given up her job with the Dobbs Hollow Police Department, and hadn’t been inclined to renew contact with them. She’d used the Twin Oaks library’s computer system to find what she could on the Chosen, but not much was available.
In the laundry, Tara switched wet clothes into the dryers, then sorted dirty things and stuffed them into the five large washers. Another woman took the dry clothes out and folded them, sorting them into stacks according to the laundry marks on them that showed which dormitory they went to.
They didn’t talk much. By and large Tara had noticed that the Chosen weren’t particularly chatty, with the exception of Aurora. The structure of the assignments, the rotation and separation, didn’t encourage the formation of deep connections, and Tara understood this to be by design. Still, it frustrated her. The other laundress, Sarah, might or might not be a good source of information, but after another few days they’d be separated, each to take on a different morning activity, long before Tara could earn her friendship.
“How long have you been a member of the Chosen?” Tara asked, deciding to try anyway.
“Eight years.”
“So you must have known the Leader practically from the beginning.”
“His father was Leader before him.”
Tara had known that much from her research, but she had to pretend she had just wandered into the compound without knowing the history of the place. Merely a friend Andrea had dragged along on several visits.
“You’re lucky to have been here so long.”
“Yes, I am.”
“A friend of mine came here and she told me how wonderful it was. She left, though, before I made up my mind to join her. She and her cousin, John.”
“Of course. Pearl. She and John went on a mission. It was hard to lose them both like that, but after the rumors, it wasn’t so surprising that she chose to go.” The woman frowned.
“Rumors?”
“It’s nothing. I am sure they weren’t true.”
The woman couldn’t seriously leave her hanging like that. Not after the first hint of a clue Tara had heard in weeks.
“You know, I have a horrible admission to make.” Tara kept her tone light despite her desperation.
“Nothing could be that bad,” Sarah said.
“No, really. Here it is: I miss gossip.”
That surprised a laugh out of Sarah. “Yes, well, you won’t find much to gossip about here.”
“I know. I think that’s why I was so interested in whatever rumor you dangled about Pearl.” Pearl, Tara thought, was an even stupider name than Serena. Andrea, with her red hair and flamboyant laugh, had been nothing like a pearl. A diamond, or a ruby, something glittering with the occasional sharp edge, but never a pearl.
“I didn’t dangle anything,” Sarah said with self-conscious dignity.
“Okay, okay. I jumped without you dangling!”
The older woman laughed again.
“It was nothing, really. Just some talk that she might have been having a romance.”
“Ooooh, you call that nothing? That’s the juiciest bit of gossip I’ve heard in the five weeks I’ve been here. Of course, it’s the only bit of gossip I’ve heard, too, but still
. . . Who was she seeing?”
Sarah shrugged. “I doubt it’s true. Relationships have to be sanctioned, blessed by the Leader. It’s probably just gossip created by people with too much time on their hands. It’s better to keep busy so you don’t have time to worry about trivialities.”
But Tara wasn’t so certain. For the first time, she had a tentative lead. If Andrea had been seeing someone, that person might know what had happened to her. Or might have caused it. And while she couldn’t press for details without arousing Sarah’s suspicions, the faint lead renewed her determination.
• • •
BY LUNCHTIME, TARA was drenched with sweat despite the fact that they were two weeks into November. Her hair, having escaped the confines of its French braid, frizzed around her face. At least the laundry building was closer in than the fence, so she had time between the first horn and the second to wash up a bit. Until she joined the Chosen, she hadn’t realized how much she appreciated the simple amenity of a private bathroom and as much time as she wanted to spend in it.
Lunch was one of Tara’s favorites—homemade tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches on the bread the women made. Tara herself had no talent for cooking, so she probably wouldn’t ever be assigned kitchen duty, but she surely would like to learn how to make the breads and stews the Chosen ate at every meal. Of course, cooking for close to one hundred people was a skill she wasn’t likely to need once she left the commune.
The kitchens were where she’d expected to find Andrea when she’d first arrived. After all, the two had met working at a diner in Twin Oaks, and Andrea, though only a waitress, had confided her love of cooking. Andrea had brought Tara to visit the Chosen a few times. She had a distant cousin who’d joined the Leader several years before. The Leader had invited both Tara and Andrea up to the main house, where they’d met with Andrea’s cousin, John, who oversaw the sale of the goods the Chosen sold both on the Internet and in town.
Tara hadn’t much cared for either the Leader—who’d insisted on being addressed as such even though he wasn’t their leader, at least not yet—or John, who’d given her the creeps. But the house was lovely, and after lunch both she and Andrea had spent some time helping out around the place, appreciating the new scenery, the new people. They’d gone down to the gardens and pulled weeds and set stakes for various plants. Tara had enjoyed herself, and they’d gone back a couple more times to spend an afternoon relaxing in the sun.
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