Stranded

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “You’re a McGrady,” Jennie could almost hear her grandmother say. “Trust your instincts.”

  Her instincts. Jennie wished she could. She wasn’t even sure what they were anymore. Jennie had a lot of suspicions but no evidence to back them up. She had too many questions. Too many rabbit trails. Eric’s missing family. The fire. Two murders. These had all happened outside the compound. Inside, there were other things going on, like feeling she’d been drugged and Lois’s having dementia just when Gram told Jennie to talk to her. That was no coincidence.

  Maybe what she needed to do was separate things out, concentrate on what was happening inside the compound and let the outside stuff go. She couldn’t deal with it all at once. She’d learned that a long time ago. “When things get too complicated and overwhelming,” Gram had often told her, “take one problem and work on it.”

  “Jennie.” Eric came up behind her.

  She jumped. “Oh, you scared me.” She’d completely forgotten about him.

  “Sorry. Did you want to see Lois?”

  “Um … sure. Did you already see her?”

  “Yeah. She’s okay.”

  Wanting to see for herself, Jennie followed Eric to the bed at the end of the room. A curtain partially hid the bed. Jennie peeked around it. Lois had the same glazed look about her that Gram had. There was no doubt in her mind now. Lois and Gram had both been drugged. She knew why—at least she thought she did. Most likely Gram had talked to Lois, maybe given her vital information—information she was supposed to share with Jennie. Someone must have found out and wanted her out of the way. Dr. Paul? One of the nurses? Donovan?

  “They’re being drugged,” Jennie told Eric as they left the building. “Can’t you see that?”

  “They’re sick and confused. The doctor has to give them something.”

  “But he’s knocking them out. That isn’t necessary. They can’t even talk to us.”

  “Leave it alone, Jennie.” Eric walked faster, as though he wanted to get away from her. He probably did.

  “Gram told me to talk to Lois. Then all of a sudden Lois has dementia. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

  “Quit making a big deal of it. Lois is an old woman. It happens.”

  “Not that fast. It takes months, sometimes years, for the symptoms to progress to where they need to be hospitalized. You’d have seen changes. Memory loss.”

  “You sound like a doctor or something. How would you know?”

  “I’ve seen it. My Grandma Calhoun had Alzheimer’s.”

  “That’s not the same thing. I’ve seen people with that too. With the kind of dementia Lois has, they can be fine one day and the next—boom—they’re totally out of it.”

  “The only thing that would bring it on so fast would be drugs. I don’t see how you can be so naive,” Jennie said, exasperated.

  “You’re saying someone here is purposely knocking out old people?”

  “Not just old people. I think everyone is being drugged. Some are getting more than others. Someone here—either Dr. Paul or Donovan … maybe both—are putting some kind of tranquilizer into that juice stuff you drink all the time.”

  “You’re wrong. There’s no reason—”

  “Eric is right, Jennie.”

  Jennie gave a startled cry. A figure stepped out from behind a building. Donovan.

  How much had he heard? Jennie wondered.

  He gave her the kind of smile one might give a little kid. “I’m sure it must seem strange to you, but there’s an explanation. Lois is indeed being drugged, but not in the way you mean. Our patients often get a sedative to help them relax so that their bodies can heal.”

  “It turns them into zombies. My grandmother can’t even talk to me.”

  “It helps them to rest.”

  “What about your juice? Nearly every time I drank it, I got a weird feeling—like I was tired and …”

  “Peaceful. Yes, there are wonderful things in our juice. Additives to promote health and well-being. There is nothing sinister about it. If you’d like, I’ll show you where our juice is made. Perhaps that will ease your mind. Also, we can talk with Paul. His sedatives are only given when a patient needs them.”

  “I tried to tell her that,” Eric said. “She has this idea that we’re some kind of evil cult.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “We must be patient with her, Eric. She’s not one of us. Jennie doesn’t understand our ways or our dedication.” Donovan’s calm, gentle way of talking seemed to negate her suspicions. His answers seemed almost plausible. She was losing her edge again. She wanted to be angry and upset and found herself calming down instead. And she hadn’t had any of the juice. Maybe it wasn’t the juice. The food? Or maybe it was Donovan himself. He hadn’t touched her or given her anything. Yet when he spoke … She felt confused and unsure of herself around him.

  His voice carried so much authority. He knows you’re wavering. Jennie could see the confidence build in his eyes.

  “Would you like to see how we make our juice? I’ll be happy to take you on a tour myself.”

  “No. That’s okay. I don’t need to see it. Maybe tomorrow.” It would have been a waste of time, but she didn’t tell him that. He’d show her exactly what he wanted her to see. “I believe you,” she added. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “Considering what you have been through, it’s understandable. Even one of Christ’s own disciples doubted Him.”

  “Thomas. He had to see to believe. I guess I haven’t seen enough yet.”

  Donovan smiled again. “I should apologize for interrupting your discussion. I wasn’t eavesdropping as you may have suspected. I was looking for you, Jennie. The sheriff came by this morning while you were napping. The authorities have been trying to locate your parents, but without an actual address, there isn’t much they can do. There are a lot of hotels, and so far he hasn’t been able to find them.”

  “They’re not in a hotel, they’re in a cabin. It belongs to a friend of Gram and J.B’s.” Unfortunately, she didn’t have a name or address. Jennie’s voice rose with irritation. “Why didn’t he talk to me?”

  “No need. He said he has left numerous messages for your father both at work and on his cell phone. I’m sure he’ll get in touch with them sooner or later.”

  “What about the fire at Eric’s ranch? He should have gotten a statement from me.”

  “Apparently he didn’t feel it was necessary. He talked with Eric.”

  Jennie tossed Eric an irritated look. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Didn’t have a chance. Anyway, it didn’t do much good. He accused me of setting the fire myself, which makes you an accomplice.”

  “What?”

  “Well, not exactly, but he may as well have. Kept grilling me on why we were out there.”

  “Did you tell him about the men we saw? They shot you. Did you show him the wound?”

  “Of course.”

  “And Gram’s plane? Did you tell him about the pieces in the shop?”

  Donovan’s eyebrows shot up. “Plane? I’m afraid I don’t understand. What does the fire have to do with your grandmother’s plane?”

  “I think that’s why it was set—or at least one of the reasons. Someone hauled the pieces to the ranch. They were hidden under a tarp in the machine shop. Whoever did it was destroying evidence.”

  “I see. No one mentioned this to me … Eric?”

  “I forgot,” Eric huffed. “It didn’t seem important. I was upset. My parents are still missing, and the sheriff is acting like I killed them.”

  Donovan cupped Eric’s good shoulder. “I know. This is difficult for you. You must trust God in all of this, my son. I’m afraid the ordeal is far from over.” To Jennie he said, “You shouldn’t have gone out there. Your interference has only worked to complicate
matters.”

  “If Eric and I hadn’t gone, we wouldn’t have been able to rescue their furniture. I—”

  “She saved my life.” Eric came to her defense.

  “Does the sheriff really suspect Eric?” Jennie brought the conversation back.

  Donovan nodded. “Not only of the arson, but of killing the two men.”

  “How could he possibly think that?” Jennie pushed her bangs back.

  “Apparently the gun used to shoot them was found near Eric’s house.”

  “That makes sense.” Eric rotated his injured shoulder. “Whoever shot them must have used the same gun to shoot at me. Since there’s no bullet in the wound, that would be hard to prove. The sheriff thinks I dropped the gun—that I meant for it to burn in the fire.”

  “He can’t seriously believe you were in on this, Eric,” Jennie said. Even though she’d considered the sheriff a suspect, she felt duty-bound to defend him—at least until she had proof. “He’s just looking at possibilities.”

  “Eric is right to be worried.” Donovan shifted his gaze from Eric to Jennie. “From the start, the sheriff has suspected one or more of our people of killing the men. We couldn’t understand his reasoning. They were part of our sect. They were brothers. We had no motive.”

  “Has that changed?”

  “Significantly,” Donovan answered. “I just learned that both men were federal agents.”

  “I was right,” Jennie murmured.

  “Pardon me?” Donovan frowned.

  “Um … nothing. I was just wondering why federal agents would come out here. Were they working undercover?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “Do you know why?” Jennie asked.

  “I can guess. The locals don’t want us here. It’s no secret that we produce herbs, and perhaps they, like you, think we have ulterior motives.”

  “You mean like drugs?”

  “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Of course, we can’t fault the government. I’m certain the locals have been spreading rumors.”

  “And the agents end up dead.” Jennie chewed on her lower lip.

  “I’m afraid that whoever did it is framing Eric.” Donovan sighed deeply. “You must not despair, brother. We’ll all be in prayer about this.”

  “If the sheriff thinks you’re guilty, why didn’t he arrest you?”

  Eric glanced toward the gate. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t think he has enough evidence,” Donovan said. Jennie rubbed her forehead to ease away the beginnings of another headache. “I’m sorry, Eric. You should have had the sheriff talk to me. I could have cleared it up. I was there when you were shot, remember?”

  “I’m being set up. I don’t think anything you could say would change his mind. Remember, he thinks you’re an accomplice.”

  Jennie started to tell them she was a cop’s daughter, that her grandmother and grandfather had worked as federal agents. She checked herself. Two federal agents had been killed. She didn’t want Gram to be next.

  19

  Come to the kitchen at eleven tonight. The note Jennie had gotten from Dory at dinner gave no other details. She glanced at her watch. Another forty-five minutes to go. After the evening meal, Jennie had gone to her room. Instead of getting ready for bed, she’d changed into her jeans and sweater. Though Marilee had washed them, the faint burn odor lingered. When she got home, she’d throw them away, but she needed them now.

  Jennie had tried taking a nap but couldn’t sleep. She wanted answers—now. Jennie found a pen and paper in the drawer of the small desk in her room and began mapping out details of what had happened since her unplanned arrival. The plane crash. Finding the cave. Meeting Eric. Coming to the compound. Gram showing up. The two murders. Eric’s missing parents and brother. The arson fire. Jennie mulled over in her mind her grandmother’s purpose in taking those photos of the compound as they’d flown over. Her first instinct had been drugs. Gram hadn’t told her she was wrong.

  She went to the closet and took out the bag of Gram’s personal effects that Donovan had given her. The men had found them when they went to search for her. Gram’s digital camera was in it.

  Jennie examined the camera more closely. Someone had taken out the memory card.

  Had Gram done that herself? Jennie dug through the bag but found none. Strange. Stan and his two buddies had found the wreckage and taken Gram’s bag from it. They would most likely have been the ones to take the film out. But why would they do that? Had they found something else in the wreckage or in her bag that made them suspect she was an agent?

  Jennie chilled as the possibility hit her. What if they had found Gram in that wreckage and brought her to the Colony? Jennie shook her head. Why would they lie to her?

  What if they did? Jennie’s thoughts persisted. Had they also moved the plane to Eric’s parents’ place? They couldn’t have with horses, anyway.

  Jennie put that part of the puzzle aside. As she’d told Eric, to move the wreckage would have taken a major effort, not something anyone here had the means to do. Unless things were not as simple here as Donovan wanted everyone to believe.

  “They have the airstrip,” Jennie murmured. And an underground system of tunnels, some of which were off limits to the residents. Still, moving Gram’s plane from the crash site didn’t make sense unless someone wanted it to look like the plane had never been there.

  She rubbed her eyes and flopped onto the bed. Lying there staring at the ceiling, Jennie’s brain felt like a computer that had run out of memory and crashed. There were just too many factors.

  There was much more to the Desert Colony than a congregation bent on becoming more Christ like. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, coaxing herself to relax. Her mind took another course. Jennie thought about Lois and what she’d said about things being different now than when Donovan’s father had been alive. The security system, the compound’s outer walls …

  Jennie didn’t trust Donovan. Her first impression had not been a good one. Instincts told her he was not what he seemed. She suspected now that he’d been using some sort of drug to manage his flock, to keep them docile and ignorant. This business about experiencing God’s peace was a sham. The only time she’d felt this so-called peace since she’d arrived were those times she’d been under the influence of their miracle juice. No way would she call that God’s peace.

  God’s peace came as a result of being in a relationship with Him, knowing and trusting Him above all things. Donovan talked about trusting God, but Jennie suspected that his real goal was to have the people trust him.

  The more Jennie thought about it, the more she suspected him. Donovan had motive for everything that had happened. He’d said the sheriff thought the two agents had been killed by someone inside the compound. Maybe the sheriff was right. But the killer wasn’t Eric. Eric was being framed, all right. Not by outsiders, but by the guy he trusted more than his own father. Now all she had to do was prove it.

  “God,” she whispered, “please help me. I think Donovan has been brainwashing these people. He’s involved in something illegal. But I need help. I don’t know what to do.”

  This was all more than she could handle. Jennie needed to go for help. But how? And where would she go? She thought about sneaking out to the barn again and taking a horse. Both times she and Eric had gone out, Donovan’s men had shown up-to bring her back. Was it to keep her from getting to someone who could help or to a phone? She had a feeling that sneaking away without being seen wasn’t an option.

  Maybe you could fly out. The thought shot through Jennie’s mind like a rocket. At first she dismissed it. She couldn’t fly. True, she’d practiced a couple of takeoffs and landings, but lo actually fly a plane … She shook her head. Was it possible? Maybe. Her heart racing, Jennie bounced off the bed. She still had another hour before she was due to meet Dory. Time to check out t
he airstrip. If there was a plane there, maybe she could …

  “You’re crazy,” Jennie chided herself. “There’s no way.”

  Jennie couldn’t believe she’d done it and that she was standing not more than a few yards from the hangar. She’d walked out of the dorm and out the front gates, then gone around to the back of the compound. Staying in the shadows, she watched a man light up a cigarette and gaze into the darkness beyond the hangar lights.

  So apparently not everyone at the Colony opted for a healthy lifestyle.

  The man was obviously guarding the place. A rifle leaned against the doorjamb next to him. Eric had said they used guns for protection … but an armed guard? What was he protecting out here? The people or something else?

  Another man joined the guard, handing him a cup of something steamy.

  “Thought you might like some coffee to warm you up.”

  “Thanks.” He took the cup and brought it to his lips. “Anything happening?”

  “Quiet as a tomb.”

  “When’s the shipment due in?”

  The man shrugged. “Anytime now. They’re late.”

  “Figures.”

  Jennie wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. They were expecting a shipment, which meant a plane would be landing tonight. Her heart raced just thinking about the possibilities. Maybe she could use the plane’s radio to call for help. Maybe the pilot would take her to Portland.

  She looked at the two men again and revised her thinking. Something clandestine was going on. They were waiting for a shipment—of what? Food? Supplies? Those weren’t the kinds of things people delivered in the middle of the night. Not things you needed guards for either. More than likely they were expecting a shipment of drugs. Which meant she couldn’t very well ask the pilot for help. If she was going to use the plane as a means out, she’d have to somehow sneak on board.

  Jennie shook her head. “No way,” she mumbled.

  “No way what?”

  Jennie had felt his presence an instant before he spoke. “Who…?” She spun around, almost colliding with the wide expanse of chest. She stepped back.