by Gerri Hill
“Reported this morning. A female, driving from Baton Rouge to Lufkin. Didn’t show last night. Her parents called it in this morning.”
“LSU student again?”
“Yes. Nineteen. Leah Turner.”
“Okay. Last visual on her?”
“Lafayette. She stopped for gas and a burger. Three p.m. Called her parents while she was there.”
“And is now gone without a trace?” She shook her head. “What do we hope to find here?” she asked. “We’ve got nothing. We haven’t even been into Hoganville since the first day.”
“And nothing strange is going on?”
“Well, one of the teachers from town, Fiona Hogan, hasn’t been in all week. She’s called in sick every day. From what I understand, it’s the first time she’s ever missed. I guess that would constitute strange.”
“Howley said he would send you a file with whatever information we can put together on Leah. BOLO out on her car, of course, but no hits. The lead teams are linking this to the other disappearance last year.”
“Okay. I’ll pass this on to CJ. We feel really out of the loop here, like we’re just killing time.” She paused. “I miss you guys,” she said.
“Yeah. Us too. Sure quiet here without you two.” Billy laughed. “Has CJ driven you crazy yet?”
“She’s working on it.”
After they disconnected, she pondered whether to call CJ or just wait until this evening to tell her. She decided to call. She didn’t have CJ’s schedule memorized yet so she would assume she wouldn’t answer if she was in class. Oh, but she did answer, in typical CJ style.
“Hi, baby,” CJ said, her voice low. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Do you miss me today?”
“Hardly,” Paige said. “Got a missing person. Billy just called me.”
“Oh, yeah? Details?”
“Another college student. Same as Trumbley. LSU. This one was heading nearby. Lufkin.”
“LSU? That’ll just trigger the team there to assume it’s LSU related.”
“Exactly.”
“Calculated? Or a coincidence?” CJ asked.
“For something that’s been going on this many years, it has to be calculated,” she said.
“I agree.”
“So now what?” Paige asked.
“I think we need to pay Hoganville a visit in the morning. Maybe drop in the café for breakfast. What do you think?”
Paige remembered Gayla’s story about their attempted café visit. She wondered if she and CJ would suffer the same fate. But she nodded.
“Sounds like a plan.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Look, there’s a car,” CJ said as they slowed near the café. “That’s a first.”
“It’s parked by the grocery store. Maybe they’re open today.”
“Well, the café is open at least. That’s a good sign,” she said. She parked in front, scanning the area behind the café, looking for movement and seeing none. The homes appeared deserted. “Craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said quietly.
“I feel silly saying this, but I’m actually afraid,” Paige said. “It’s like the hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. She felt it too, that sixth sense kicking in, making her more attentive, no detail escaping notice. Like the blinds being pulled down on the grocery store window or the slamming of a door down the street, the only sound to disturb the silence.
There were eight people in the café and all sets of eyes turned away from them as they entered. Even the woman holding the pot of coffee seemed frozen in place as she turned her head away. It was so quiet, she could actually hear the ticking of a clock. Her gaze landed on the round face on the wall, where the second hand was moving in jerky motions. It was nine a.m.
Paige was the first to gather her composure, perhaps her upbringing dictating proper manners. She smiled at the woman as she pulled out a chair.
“That coffee looks great,” Paige said. “We’ll start with that, please.”
CJ followed suit, pulling out the chair opposite her. The coffee lady finally moved, but not to bring them a cup. She hurried back behind closed doors. The kitchen? The others, four women and three men, remained frozen and unmoving, their conversation still halted. CJ looked at Paige and shrugged.
Paige, for her part, was trying to appear as normal as possible. She smiled, looking around for a menu.
“I’m starving. I’m thinking two eggs, hash browns. Maybe I’ll splurge on bacon. What about you?”
“Pancakes,” CJ said. “I haven’t had pancakes in ages.” But seeing as how the coffee lady hadn’t returned, she thought the prospect for pancakes was slight. She met Paige’s eyes questioningly.
Paige leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper. “I feel like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone.”
Before CJ could answer, the door to the kitchen opened, but it wasn’t the coffee lady returning. It was a much older woman, her skin pasty white, matching the gray on her head. She appeared nearly ghost-like, and she moved with light, nimble steps toward them.
“I am Ester Hogan,” she said, the smile on her face forced. “I’m sorry, but we are not open for business this morning. We have a private party today. We should have locked the doors.”
CJ looked pointedly at the other occupied tables, then sniffed the air with exaggeration. “But the breakfast smells really good,” she said, smiling broadly. “Are you sure you can’t make an exception?”
“I’m sorry, but no.” Ester Hogan swept her glance between the two of them. “You are from the school?”
“Yep. Just started,” she said. “CJ Johnston. This is Paige Riley.”
Paige nodded politely. “Nice to meet you. We were looking for a nice, country breakfast. Someone suggested we come here,” she said.
At this, Ester Hogan cracked a smile. “Someone playing a joke, perhaps. But again, I apologize. We are not open to the public today.” She motioned to the outside door. “I must insist you leave.”
“Wow. I thought this was a real café. It looks like a real café—standard white dishes, sugar and ketchup on the tables. Even little napkin holders,” she said, fingering the chipped metal container. “Do you close like this often?”
Ester Hogan’s facial expression did not change. She leaned forward, her dark eyes boring into CJ’s. “You will leave now.” The air around her grew cold, and CJ felt as if there was a hand around her throat choking her. She had a hard time drawing breath.
Ester straightened up, her glance going to the coffee lady, who nodded and left. CJ felt the pressure ease up, and she immediately touched her neck with her hand. The door opened again; this time a large, broad-shouldered man filled the space. He said nothing. He didn’t have to. His biceps were as big as her thighs. He looked like—if he chose—he could snap her in half like a twig.
“Okay. I guess this is our cue,” she said to Paige. “Pancakes are out.”
Paige surprised her by walking around the table to stand in front of Ester Hogan. “Is the grocery store open this morning? If I’m to cook breakfast, I’ll need some eggs,” she said, a slight smile playing on her lips. “Maybe bacon too.”
“I’m sorry, but no. The grocery store is not open on Saturdays. Besides, we don’t carry much. Everyone is self-sufficient. Gardens, chickens.”
“Oh. There was a car out front. I was hoping it was open.”
“No. But I do have some to spare.” Ester glanced at the coffee lady. “Selma, eggs and bacon for our new friends.”
“Yes, Mother Hogan,” she said before hurrying away.
“You will wait outside. Belden will keep you company.”
CJ pushed her chair back in against the table. “That’s not necessary. Thank you for your kindness,” she said.
Paige paused at the door. “By the way, how is Fiona? We have yet to meet her.”
If the question caught her by surprise, Ester didn’t show it. “Yes, Fiona has
been ill this week. I believe she’s feeling a bit better.”
“Good. We look forward to meeting her.” Paige nodded slightly. “Thank you again for the breakfast items.”
CJ had just opened the door to go wait outside when the coffee lady—Selma—returned with a wicker basket covered with a cloth. Instead of handing it to Paige, she handed it to Ester Hogan. Ester lifted the cloth, revealing not only the eggs and several thick slabs of bacon, but a loaf of homemade bread as well.
“Very nice, Selma. Thank you.” She offered the basket to Paige. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you. We will.” She held up the basket. “I’ll be sure to return this.”
“No need. Perhaps you could drop it off with Fiona one day.”
“Very well.”
***
“Lock the door,” Ester instructed as soon as the women drove off. “Thank you, Selma. You may resume your duties.”
“Yes, Mother Hogan.”
“Belden, I think we need to pay Director Avery a visit. Apparently he did not heed our warning to keep his staff away from the community. We can’t have them here, especially this week.”
“Yes, Mother. Should I visit him tonight?”
“Call the guard that you broke...Richard. You can take Fiona back tomorrow. Visit the director then. Return through the woods. Nothing too severe now, Belden. This is Celebration Week. We don’t want anything to disrupt our plans.” She smiled, thinking of the young girl they would offer up as a sacrifice. She could already smell it, taste it. She closed her eyes for a minute, imagining the warmth of blood on her hands. “No, we don’t want any distractions this week.” She opened her eyes again, finding Belden waiting. “Make sure everyone uses the tunnels to travel. There may be eyes on us.”
“Yes, Mother.”
She watched him leave, her gaze going back out the window where the strangers’ car was long gone. Something wasn’t right, she knew, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. It was Celebration Week. She must get Fiona ready.
“We should close the blinds,” she said, turning to leave, hearing Nevelene hustle over to do her bidding. She smiled. Like a good sheep.
***
“You think it’s safe to eat that stuff?” CJ asked.
Paige smiled. “I think so. It’s probably from the stash they were using for breakfast there. The bread is still warm. Probably baked fresh this morning.”
“Why do you think she gave that to us?”
“Wanted us out of her hair, most likely. God, can you believe that place?”
CJ shook her head. “No. And the coffee lady called her Mother Hogan. How weird is that?”
“Did you notice her fingernails?”
“Whose?”
“Ester’s. When she handed me the basket, I saw them. They were like claws, filed to a point. Creepy.”
“What was creepy were the other people in there. I mean, it was like they froze. And they wouldn’t look at us. They turned their backs to us,” CJ said.
“Yes, they appeared to be terrified of us. And maybe they were. They don’t see outsiders often, I suppose.”
CJ glanced at her. “You think they’re brainwashed?”
Paige smiled. “They appear to be conditioned to behave certain ways, I don’t know if I would call it brainwashed. They are obviously subservient to Ester Hogan. I guess Avery was right in that she’s the matriarch, she runs things.”
“She also controls them by having the resources to run the café, the grocery store.” She glanced at Paige. “I felt something,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“When she was staring at me. I felt this...this pressure on my chest, around my throat. Like I was lying down and someone was sitting on me or something. Like maybe there were hands around my throat.”
“Okay,” Paige said slowly. “And? You think Ester Hogan did something?”
“I don’t know. But it was definitely real. I had a hard time breathing.”
CJ turned into the entrance to the school, pausing at the locked gate to show her ID. Richard Barr, the security guard who had let them into the admin building that first day, waved them through without a word.
“He doesn’t talk much,” she said to Paige. “This may be an all-girls school and most of the teachers are women, but on my side of things—being the only female—I’m the outsider. Chief Aims doesn’t really talk to me either.”
“I’m assuming you’re being your usual charming self?”
CJ laughed. “What are you implying?”
Paige smiled but didn’t elaborate. “Nothing.”
CJ parked in their tiny driveway, her gaze sliding to the basket Paige held. “So, are you really gonna make me breakfast?”
“I’m going to make us breakfast.” Paige met her gaze across the top of the car. “And if you really have a fondness for pancakes, we’ll need to add that to our grocery list.”
“Thanks. I used to be a nut for pancakes when I was a kid. My mom—” she stopped, the happy memory she was about to recall replaced with one of her father throwing the hot griddle across the room, embedding it in the cheap paneling of the kitchen wall. Her mom had gotten a phone call and had forgotten about the pancakes. Soon, the ripe smell of their burnt breakfast had filled the old trailer. CJ had been maybe nine or ten, she couldn’t really remember. When the yelling started, she and her sister Cathy had hidden under the table. That was the last time her mother made pancakes. She closed her eyes for a second, picturing her mother’s battered face before pushing the memory away.
“What is it?” Paige asked.
CJ shook her head, not able to meet Paige’s eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ester made her way through the maze of tunnels, not bothering with a torch. She preferred the darkness, really. The damp earth smell was comforting to her, familiar. Most of the tunnels had been built many, many years ago, linking the main Hogan house and the underground cave—the chambers—with the main buildings, like the grocery store and the café. Since she’d had the reign, she’d orchestrated the construction of the newest ones, linking the homes. They could move about freely now without having to step outside. There was no chance of prying eyes then. They were free to do as they chose. She smiled in anticipation of the upcoming week, knowing the sacrifice they’d chosen was more for the celebration week her great-grandmother had started than for him. Regardless, he seemed to enjoy it as much as the flock now did.
She followed the tunnels directly to her home, missing Belden being there to greet her. Belden had been her protector since he was twenty, long before her mother handed over the flock to her. Belden’s family had always been the shepherds, his father looking after her beloved grandmother for years. They were the shepherds, yes. They were also the hunters, having learned their skills from birth, the bloodline long and thick.
She didn’t concern herself that Belden was the last of his family. Only his younger sister remained and she was of no use to Ester. It was her mother’s fault. She didn’t have the steel hand that her beloved grandmother did. Her mother didn’t control the coupling. There was no selection. Those born to the flock weren’t of good linage, her mother knew that, but she couldn’t cull them, not like her grandmother had. Fortunately, her mother grew ill. Ester allowed a small smile at that thought, shaking it away quickly. Her mother had been forced to hand the purple robe to her. Ester was prepared. She culled the flock quickly, ruling with an iron fist, taking instruction from him. Unfortunately, there was now a gap. And for the first time in over a hundred years, there was no true Hogan to carry on.
Fiona was as close as she had, and Fiona had proven to be faithful. If she bore a female child, then he would be happy. He would be able to mate again. The true Hogan line would end, but her reign would continue. The thought thrilled her, almost as much as the upcoming ceremony.
She paused at the door to her rooms, looking back down the dark tunnels. She had heard a noise, a scraping sound. She tilte
d her head, listening, but all was silent.
A rat perhaps.
***
“Why a cop?”
Paige halted in mid-pour, the wine bottle the only thing separating her eyes from CJ’s. She hated this question. She wished she’d made up a lie years ago.
“I mean, considering your family and all,” CJ continued, “that hardly seems what they had in mind for you.”
“No. Hardly,” she said. Actually, she was surprised by CJ’s attempt at conversation. She’d been distant, withdrawn most of the day. Brooding. Paige had finally given up trying to talk to her. So now, at dinner—which she’d assumed would be another quiet affair—CJ asks that question.
“So?”
Paige shrugged. “I wanted to help people,” she said. “I went to law school—”
“To help people?”
“I know. After the first year, I realized it wasn’t for me. It was all about money and politics.” Paige met her eyes. “I applied for the FBI without my parents’ knowledge. I really didn’t think it would get as far as it did,” she said.
“So they freaked?”
“That’s an understatement,” she said. “I was raised—trained—to be some rich man’s wife. They tolerated law school because that was considered a noble profession. And if I insisted, they would allow me to join the firm that served as my father’s counsel.” She sipped from her wine, remembering the conversation well. “Until I was married, of course. Then I would resort to being a proper wife.”
“And the FBI?”
She smiled. “What can I say? They demanded I quit, but really, they had no hold over me. Certainly not monetarily, even though they tried to play that card.” She looked away. “I had trust funds. They couldn’t touch that. But they tried to threaten my stake in their wealth.” Paige set her wineglass down, uncomfortable with the conversation. “When they realized I didn’t care about that, they backed off. I think they assumed I would give it up eventually.”
“Well, if they were thrown for a loop about the FBI, I bet they really freaked about the gay thing,” CJ said, pushing her plate away to cup her wineglass with both hands.