by Dale Cadeau
“And that’s all of it?”
“Yes, that’s our entire story.” Lance poured another shot of Jack Daniels and swallowed it down, as if he was clearing his throat of the awful story.
“If Ward is dead, who’s in the photograph?”
“If you say it’s his second-in-command, then it must be Howard.”
“You don’t think that you could have told me earlier that that Cinnamon—my Cinnamon—was deeply involved in a cult, and the VP could be stalking the woman of the club? I wish you would have told us earlier and not wasted time. We could have just staked out the parking lot and not concentrated on the club at all.”
Lance nodded. “You’re right, I don’t think he’s ever been inside of the club or else I would have remembered him, I’m sure.”
Angel stood and began pacing. Even though he now knew Cyn’s entire story he felt like there was still something missing. “When Cinnamon was in the cult, do you know how they triggered her to obey? Did the head shrink ever find out? She did act strange with both you and me today. I hope this guy hasn’t got to her.” Angel was having a hard time wrapping his mind around his lady being involved in a cult. He knew Lance protected Cinnamon, but he didn’t know why Lance didn’t connect it with her, when it became apparent that the women being grabbed, matched Cinnamon’s description closely.
“No, they could never figure out what triggered these people to give this man so much devotion. I hope you are wrong and it has nothing to do with this cult. I don’t think Cinnamon would come out in one piece again if they get a hold of her.”
Angel grabbed his cell out of his pocket and told Lance as he called Brad, “I’m going to get Brad to go over to her house right now. He should be just about finished meeting our new clients. I hope that is where she went. We were stupid to think she was safe until night.” Talking to Brad, he arranged for him to go to the house right away.
Angel got up and almost shuddered at the thought of his Cinnamon in a cult, under someone’s control. “I’m going back to the office and getting Grant on this. For tonight, put one of your meaner Doms at the front and backdoors. But I don’t think you’ll have trouble tonight. He probably knows where she lives by now. God, I have to get to Grant then to Cinnamon.”
Angel walked to the door and paused. “Lance I think you’re the type of guy that would probably like to help, like Chase, but for now just concentrate on the club and the parking lot.” Walking briskly out the front door, Angel almost ran to his truck and climbed in. He wanted to go to Cinnamon first, but they had to know what they were truly dealing with. Grant could dig out the information for them and Angel knew if he stood at his back watching, it would be found even faster. He trusted Brad to look after Cinnamon until he got the information they needed.
Chapter Thirteen
Parking in the underground parking lot of the Braden office building, Angel hurried to the elevator. He had called Grant and filled him in on the new information he had gotten from Lance on his way here. They needed this information ASAP. Cinnamon could be in grave danger. But it still bugged Angel that he couldn’t think of a reason why they would come after her after all this time. Yes, he knew the leader Ward had died, but what would they want with Cinnamon now? Watching the elevator light up at each floor as it rose, he mulled over all he had learnt from Lance. The door open on the fifth floor and Angel hastily strove into the office. Grace was at her desk and gave him a startled look as he rushed past her. He usually was polite and always stopped and said good day to her. Today he didn’t have time. Walking down the hall to Grant’s office, he opened the door so abruptly that the door smashed into the back wall. Grant sitting at his desk, engrossed looking at the computer, jumped as the harsh noise broke his concentration.
Grant looked up, pissed. “You could have knocked. I know this is important to you, but you could have screwed us all. I’m hacking into the Feds’ computer and I don’t want to make a wrong move. It’s not exactly legal you know.” Grant returned to furiously pounding on the computer keys, turning his back on Angel.
“Sorry, didn’t think.” Taking a seat in front of Grant’s desk, Angel tried to be quiet and not heckle Grant to go faster. He was starting to get a really bad feeling. Brad hadn’t called back yet to tell him that he was with Cinnamon. That wasn’t like Brad. He should have checked in by now and given him an update. Angel’s hairs on his neck were starting to tingle, telling him all was not right. He didn’t want to disturb Grant, but he knew in his gut that something had gone wrong. After watching Grant tap at the keys and grunt every once in a while, Angel had had enough. Getting up, he started pacing back and forth in front of Grant’s desk, glancing at him every once and a while.
Finally, Grant pushed away from his computer and straightened up in his chair and righted it behind his desk.
“It took a while, but I think I’ve got as much as the Feds have on it. The cult started in 1965. It goes back to the hippies. In the beginning it was an upright cult, if there is such a thing. The Church of Lost Souls was started by a guy raging against the government. The cult people were nonviolent and lived off the land.”
“When did that change?”
Grant pulled up a photo of a man in his thirties in a suit. “The change seems to have come with the new regime. The man that took over was a guy that saw the potential that the cult had. He stepped into the cult business when the heat from the government started to cool. Bit by bit he preached and changed the mindset of the people. He started bringing in shipments of gun parts and these people were put to work, not in their gardens anymore, but on an assembly line assembling guns. These guns were to be a new source of income for the cult and everyone would share in the profits. He had them snowed but good. For years they were told the profits had to go back into the product.”
“But let me guess, it didn’t.”
“Nope.”
Angel couldn’t believe his ears, and was just starting to ask Grant questions, when Grant continued after pushing his glass up that had slipped down as he read.
“Meanwhile he bought a mansion and lived the high life. His spiel was ‘give me your money and I will help you live off the government grid.’ They believed after a couple of years they would have all the time and money needed to help all the lost souls of the world. They bought it hook, line, and sinker.”
“And this is around the time that Cinnamon joined the group?”
Grant nodded, “Unfortunately yes. As with most cults, the Church of Lost Souls was made up of college kids just wanting to smoke their dope, with no aim in life, just wanting to be left alone. This cult gave them a purpose—they were left alone and they thought they were helping all the other lost souls that they could relate to.”
Angel tried to imagine the Cinnamon he knew being the same woman who had once needed a place to belong. If Angel tried, it wasn’t so hard to see the attraction of a group of like-minded people who had all felt lost at one time or another.
“How involved was she?”
“Very. Cinnamon rose pretty fast through the ranks to become the special pet of Ward, the leader.”
“Is that the man in the photograph?”
“Yes.”
Angel’s stomach turned at the thought. “Go on.”
Grant looked up before he continued. He knew this must be hard for Angel to hear. “I think he knew of her background and parents’ money, so she stood out from the other drifters. And you have to admit he had good taste. I’ve seen pictures of her on his arm. They always wore long robes and looked very humble. Anyway, I guess the guy got too greedy and started shipping the guns through the mail and not just selling them at the corner market with the vegetables. The Feds got wind of the shipments and they investigated the cult. Charges of gun trafficking were brought against the group, but the gun charge that stuck was only on Ward. He was the only one that had profited from the sales, living in a mansion and living the high life. The others the Feds could see were just poor saps living almost in crude
conditions.”
“But the Feds still charged them anyway?”
Grant nodded. “Yes. Cinnamon was charged as she was always on his arm and at all the recruitment rallies that took place. She got off by having one of the best lawyers of the time. He argued that she had no idea what was going on and since she was living like the others off the land, she was just naive and gullible.”
Angel took a deep breath. That might have been the defense—hell, that might have even been the truth at the time—but the Cinnamon he knew now was nowhere near gullible or naïve.
Grant pushed his chair back from his desk and ran a hand through him hair. “Angel, looking at the news clips, it reminds me of the Manson children. All the people seemed to be in some daze and the ones brought in to testify all spoke with reverence about this Ward guy”—he paused—“even Cinnamon. The Feds put him away, but according to their records, they never did fully recover all the profits from the sale of these guns. Their estimate was eight million. They recovered only four of it and most of that came from the sale of his mansion and other goodies he had accumulated.”
“What about the guy from the parking lot, this Howard? Wasn’t he a VP in the cult? How did he manage to escape being put away?” Angel asked, finally taking a seat and pulling it close to Grant’s desk.
“Well, from what I can tell he had a family at the time and a very modest home. He also lawyered up with the best and got off scot-free. Being Carlos’s brother-in-law probably helped with any cover-up he hatched. This dude looks like scum. He’s a little older now, but from the picture, you can see the thin lips and small eyes. If he is after Cinnamon, maybe with Carlos’s help from the pen, then she’s in a lot of danger. The other near snatches in the parking lot were probably to throw people off the scent of his real purpose. They must want Cinnamon for something. With the leader dead, looks like this Howard is now stepping into his shoes.”
Angel was reaching for his cell when it rang. “About time.” Snapping it open, he couldn’t ask Brad questions fast enough. He wanted to know if Cinnamon was safe.
“She’s fine, settle down. She went grocery shopping after leaving the club. I caught up with her at the nearby shopping mall close to her house. I even helped her into the house with the groceries. I don’t know why you’re so worried—she seems to be OK and even offered me coffee. Do you want me to stay here? It’s the middle of the day, so I think she’s safe.”
“No, I don’t think she’s safe. I want you to stay there until I arrive. I was just talking to Grant and he will update you when you get back. I’m leaving now.” Angel snapped his cell closed. Turning to Grant on his way to the door, Angel asked him to make copies of all he had found. He was still old-fashioned enough to want hard copies to look at. The computer was a great tool for gathering information, but he still didn’t completely trust them enough not to fuck up and lose all their information.
* * * *
Angel tried not to speed on his way to Cinnamon’s place. He was anxious to get to her and see with his own eyes that she was safe. He knew Brad could handle anything if it came up but wouldn’t feel comfortable until she was wrapped in his arms, if she allowed it. Pulling into her driveway, he spotted Brad’s truck pulling out from the side of the roadway and passing him as he parked. Jumping out of his truck, he hurried to the front door. He didn’t know what to expect on the other side of the door. With Lance, she had acted strange, but according to Brad, she was normal and nothing was out of the ordinary. Ringing the bell, well really leaning on it, he could hear Cinnamon on the other side. She started yelling, “Hold your horses, I’m coming as fast as I can.” The door was flung open and a very pissed Cinnamon stood on the other side.
Spotting Angel still leaning on the bell, she tore into him. “What is your problem? Can you be civil enough to ring the doorbell properly? I was in my room changing and that incessant ring just about drove me nuts as I scrambled to get dressed. Well, come on in and tell me why you are so much in a hurry to see me. We just talked this morning and I thought we were going to see each other later at the club? I don’t know why you couldn’t wait until then.” Angel stepped into the front hallway as she backed away from the door, allowing him to enter.
“I came to find out what the problem is between Lance and yourself. Why did you leave the club so abruptly? I saw you tear out of the parking lot earlier,” Angel told her as he reached out and closed the door.
“You have to be crazy. After you left this morning, I got ready and all I have done today is go grocery shopping. I haven’t made it to the club yet. I never saw Lance let alone talk to him. Why are you making up stories? Oh, and by the way, that Brad is a nice guy. He was here when I got back from shopping and helped me bring in my groceries.” Cinnamon looked up at him with disbelief in her voice.
“You let Brad help you in the house with your groceries? Do you always let strange men help you?” Angel asked in a gruff voice.
“Oh, you don’t give me any credit. He flashed his badge from Braden Security, so I know he must be a friend of yours. I also don’t think the men that work with you would be any danger to me. He was just nice and told me he was keeping a watch out for the guy from the parking lot last night. Now you answer some questions. Why was Brad watching over me? You just left a couple of hours ago. I don’t think the guy would come here in broad daylight. And I couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble in the few hours that have passed.”
Angel took her by her elbow and led her away from the door and to the couch in the living room making her sit down beside him. He was starting to worry more now that he had heard her answer. She wasn’t joking. She believed what she was telling him. “More than a couple of hours have passed since I saw you this morning. It’s almost six o’clock at night. I left at ten this morning and I did see you speed out of the club parking lot just after lunch. You looked pissed with what I could glimpse as you sped past me. Lance told me that you quit the club. What’s going on with you?” Angel tightened his hold on her elbow.
“Let me up!” Cinnamon tried to shake his grasp off. “It’s not six o’clock, it’s just after lunch. I haven’t made it to the club yet.” Getting up she went into the kitchen and looked at the wall clock. It said ten to six. Gasping, she turned to Angel, who had followed behind her. “It can’t be right. I just got ready and went shopping for food.” Feeling unsteady, she almost lost her footing. The shock was so great that she had lost hours of the day. Angel grabbed her by her shoulders and led her back to the couch.
Seated on the couch, Angel wrapped her shaking form in his arms. “We’ll figure it out.”
“What the hell happened? I haven’t had this happen in so long. It can’t happen again. I was cured. I know I was. It was five years ago. Why would it start back up again?” Hugging Angel, she burst into sobs. Angel just held her close and let her cry. Finally she quieted and pulled back out of his arms. “I need to see Lance right now.”
Angel wouldn’t let her get up from the couch, just reached over and grabbed a tissue and gently wiped her face. “Let’s just step back for a minute. Maybe we can make sense of this. We’ll call Lance in a minute after you take your breath.”
Angel kept his voice soft and gentle and asked her in a non-confrontational manner. “Tell me all that you remember?”
“Didn’t you listen? I just told you. After you left I got ready and went grocery shopping, nothing else. I didn’t see Lance or go to the club. Something’s not right with this. Either I’m wrong or you are. Let me call Lance and we’ll get to the bottom of this. I guess I could have lost time at the store. Nothing else makes sense.” Cinnamon was starting to get really scared at the thought of losing time.
Angel let her up and she walked to the house phone and called Lance.
Cinnamon’s hands shook as she dialed, finally the phone was answered
“Lance can you come over right now? Angel’s here talking garbage and I need you to straighten this out. Please don’t ask any questions just ge
t here as fast as you can.”
Putting the phone down, she gave Angel a look and walked into the kitchen. The bottle of Scotch was still on the table that Chase brought last night. Grabbing a glass from one of the cupboards, she grabbed the bottle as she sank into a kitchen chair and poured herself a stiff shot. Angel reached out to grab the glass out of her hand, but she was too quick and downed the drink. Coughing with tears running down her face, she looked at Angel standing beside her. “I can’t go back.” Putting the glass down, she raised both of her hands and covered her face. Oh God. Don’t let it be so.
Angel sat down at the table across from her and leaned across it and gently pulled her hands from her face. “Just take a minute. I don’t think the liquor will help. Let’s wait for Lance to get here. We’ll straighten this out. You’re probably right. You just lost time at the supermarket.”
When he saw she was calmer, Angel got up, threw out the morning coffee, and made a fresh pot. He also took the time to hide the Scotch bottle under the sink. He didn’t want her mudding her thought more with liquor. Cinnamon just sat at the table and watched him walk around the kitchen with wide, tear-filled eyes, not saying anything.
As soon as the coffee was ready, Angel poured her a cup and made her drink it. She wasn’t shaking as much anymore, but she still had a dazed look in her eyes.
Hearing the door bell, Angel left her sitting at the table and went to let Lance in the house.
Chapter Fourteen
Opening it, Lance’s first question to Angel was, “How is she?”
Brushing past Angel, he took a quick look in the living room then spotted her sitting at the kitchen table.
Lance walked hurriedly to her side and sank to his knees. Reaching out, he enfolded her in his arms. “Cinnamon, I was so worried. Are you OK?” Angel could hear the concern in his voice as he spoke to her.