Whirlwind (Rachel Hatch Book 8)

by L T Ryan

  "We do what we can."

  "In the hopes of bringing more people into your flock?"

  "It would be nice if it worked that way, but often it doesn't. Though a few townsfolk have seen the goodness in what we do and have joined our ranks."

  "Would I be able to speak to some of your followers?"

  "No."

  Hatch stopped scribbling notes into the pad and looked up.

  "I have made a promise to them from the moment they entered to protect them. I must act as an intermediary and stand between the devil's whispers and their delicate ears."

  Just as Hatch was about to press further in the hopes of speaking with Dot, the clop of a horse's hooves from the trail behind her drew her attention. She turned to see the man from the hardware store with the young Marigold sitting alongside.

  "How did it go in town?" The Shepherd asked as the carriage drew to a stop nearby. The man dismounted and cast a glare at Hatch as he walked past her and whispered something in The Shepherd’s ear, who only nodded in return. "It seems you've already attempted to speak to one of my followers. The child, for that matter. And it appears, Miss Hatch, that there is more to the story you're digging at."

  "I'm just trying to get the full picture of what happened. A little girl went missing. I think that warrants as much attention as possible."

  "You should've led with that."

  "Would you have permitted me to enter, had I?"

  "Probably not."

  Marigold hopped down from the carriage and skipped her way over to her father's side. She played with a braid with one hand, still holding the basket of flowers with the other.

  "I think it’s time you leave, Miss Hatch. You may not find my gates open to you when you return."

  Hatch opened her mouth to speak but the child spoke first. In a sweet, lyrical voice, she looked up at The Shepherd. "Shepherd, let her see my Rise. Let her understand the beauty of transcendence. Maybe she's just forgotten."

  "You ask a lot, my little Marigold." Turning his gaze to Hatch. "We do not question the innocence of a child here. In fact, the opposite is true. Their wisdom comes in a purity we no longer connect to. If by her request, she'd like you to attend her ceremony tomorrow, I'm obliged to make the offer. It is your choice to accept or decline."

  Hatch looked at the little girl. "I'll be here," she said.

  Marigold stepped closer to Hatch, her father's arm catching her by the shoulder, halting her. The girl then reached into her basket and extended a flower toward Hatch, who took it and smiled.

  "It begins at sunrise when God’s first light touches the altar," her voice a whisper just above the breeze.

  Then, a tall man walked toward them from behind a cluster of trees in the wood line, just beyond the closest house.

  "Mathias," The Shepherd said. "Please see our visitor out."

  His white tunic was dirt-covered and showed the toils of the day. He approached Hatch and stood six inches taller than her. He said nothing. His face might as well have been etched in stone as Hatch met his gaze. He looked at Hatch and then to the open gate. His silent command to move had been given. Hatch took it and left.

  She headed back up the trail and around the bend, disappearing behind the thick mass of tree trunks lining the road. Hatch entered the Jeep; Ben still in the passenger seat.

  "Let me guess. Nothing?"

  "We'll see." Hatch put the SUV into drive and turned back toward the main road. "I've been invited back tomorrow."

  Before turning left and heading back into town, Hatch pulled her phone from the satchel she'd carried. She pulled up the photo she'd snapped unbeknownst to The Shepherd. Taken at an odd angle, it captured the face of the Eternal Light's leader. She sent it to Jordan Tracy in the hopes that with the assets at his disposal he would be capable of finding an identification for the mysterious preacher. And with it maybe some insight into the questions The Shepherd had dodged.

  One thing was certain, by morning's light tomorrow, Hatch hoped to have a much clearer picture of things in Jericho Falls.

  Eighteen

  Savage and Thorpe had spent the last several hours in The Cave, going over the years of case history. They found no tangible evidence connecting to Glenn Miller. Savage was flipping through the pages of a report he'd already read, hoping to find a breadcrumb of connective tissue to his case, when the phone on Thorpe's desk rang.

  Thorpe moved a stack of papers, blocking his reach, and picked up the receiver. "When? Why am I just now hearing about this? I want the full report immediately. Assign the case to me." Thorpe hung up the phone.

  "What is it?" Savage asked.

  "A girl aged twelve went missing two days ago."

  "Two days ago? Why are you just hearing about it now?"

  "Apparently, the deputy on patrol had tagged it as a civil case over child custody, and he was looking at the father, but his sergeant changed it."

  "Where?"

  "Small town called Jericho Falls. About forty-five minutes from here, probably thirty the way I drive." Thorpe said.

  "Mind if I tag along? It's been a while since I've had a partner." Savage asked.

  "Me too."

  The two men left the cave and the crude drawing of the Twister Man and set out for Jericho Falls.

  Savage rode shotgun in Thorpe's Chevy suburban. The sun set as they made their way west. The night sky was coated with the swirling of angry gray clouds.

  "Tell me more about McKenzie Blackmore and her encounter with the Twister Man."

  "Her family lives just north of here in a trailer park on the outskirts of Lebanon. McKenzie had snuck out to play in the rain, as children do. She had not wandered far from her home. Her father didn’t realize she left, and when he called her for dinner and she didn't respond, he went outside to look for her. Stepping to the porch, he called out to her, but the wind had already begun to howl. He stepped back inside to grab a flashlight to search for her, but above the howl he heard the scream."

  "Besides the drawing, was McKenzie able to give you anything in the way of a description?"

  "She said he looked like a tree. Her father had grabbed a shotgun, and he set out to find his daughter. He saw her lifted in the air. The man carrying her was barely visible. Her father took aim with the shotgun and fired. His daughter fell to the ground. The man disappeared before her father got a look. The tornado warnings had already sounded. It was too dangerous to chase him into the woods."

  "If the father got a shot off, did he hit the kidnapper?"

  "He said he believed so. It looked as though after he had dropped McKenzie that he ran with a limp."

  "Was there any evidence, blood or otherwise?"

  Thorpe shook his head no while keeping his eyes on the road. "Ever been through a tornado?"

  "Can't say that I have."

  "Well, let me tell you, from an investigative standpoint, it's an evidence eradicator. I couldn't even find a pellet of a bird shot that he'd said he'd fired. No DNA, no trace evidence."

  "But a story you believe?"

  Thorpe nodded. "With all my heart. The notes from this police report gave the location of the Eternal Light commune."

  Thorpe slowed as the GPS showed they’d arrived, and he almost passed the entrance in the darkness. He hit the brakes and turned left, taking a dirt road, and following it to its end at the gated entrance, now closed. Savage and Thorpe left the vehicle as rain began to fall.

  Thorpe knocked on the gate. They could see the smoke rising above the fence from campfires. Nobody came. There were voices on the other side, distant and indiscernible. Thorpe knocked louder.

  "Wilson County Sheriff's Office. Can someone please come to the gate?"

  A shadow blocked out the light seeping through the gap between the gate and the fence. The man standing inside was about Savage's height, maybe a few inches taller. The shadow cast from the fence hid the details of his face.

  "Excuse me, I'm Detective Jim Thorpe with Wilson County Sheriff's Office. We'd like to
speak with you about Kyla Green."

  No response came from the other side.

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  There was a sound, like the rustle of dried leaves, and then through the slit where the shadowed man stood came a piece of paper. Thorpe took it and read it.

  "Leave."

  He pocketed the paper. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I'm Detective Jim Thorpe with the Wilson County Sheriff's Office. I'm here to speak with Dorothy Green, Kyla's mother."

  The man beyond the fence gate shifted out of view and disappeared from sight.

  "What do you make of that?" Savage said. "Not very welcoming for a bunch of holy rollers."

  "Well, it's not like I can ram through the gate."

  "Maybe we'll have better luck in the morning."

  The rain grew steadier, and the two retreated to Thorpe's suburban. "Not sure what you have for accommodations, but I live about thirty-five minutes from here in the direction we just came. It’s small, but the couch is pretty comfortable. I don't think my wife would mind."

  "I don't want to be a bother. Is there a motel nearby?"

  "There's only one in Jericho Falls. Otherwise, we're going about twenty miles out of the way."

  "Sounds like I'm staying in Jericho Falls."

  "Suit yourself."

  Thorpe pulled onto the main road and made his way into town. They drove by a restaurant called Clem's.

  "If you're hungry, good food. Eaten there a time or two over the years. My treat."

  "I had an early start, and it sounds like we're going to get an early start tomorrow, too. I think I'll just take my chances with a vending machine tonight."

  Thorpe drove him to the motel. They said goodbye with the agreement that Thorpe would return in the morning, and after breakfast, the two would head back to make a second attempt to contact Kyla's mother.

  Savage got a key to room number seven. As he walked to his room, he took note of the two cars in the lot. Out of force of habit, he touched the hoods of the cars as he passed them. The sedan parked in front of room one was cold. He touched the hood of the Jeep as he passed it. It was warm. Old habits die hard.

  The light in room three was on as Savage passed and made his way to his temporary quarters. As he entered the small, but surprisingly clean room, the image of the girl's crudely drawn Twister Man came to his mind. He wondered if the eyes hidden behind the gray swirls were that of Glen Miller's or somebody else’s, and he hoped that tomorrow would bring the answer.

  Nineteen

  Hatch woke early and headed out the door. Darkness still clung to the world outside as she made her way from the curb to her Jeep. Jordan Tracy still had not gotten back to her with any information on the photograph she'd sent. His brother's room was still dark minus the white light from the television, which Hatch assumed he'd left on while sleeping. She made her way out with soft steps, hoping to avoid any request to join her for this morning's outing to the Eternal Light's commune.

  The only light beyond what seeped out into the dark through Ben's drawn shade came from the dim bulb above the main office's front door. Though she craved a cup, Hatch decided to forgo the coffee, hoping that bypassing Harlin's morning brew would help her avoid any prying by the town's gossip, as he was so named by the friendly restaurant owner. That hope was dashed when the door popped open.

  "You're off to an early start," Harlin stood halfway out, propping the door open with the side of his boot.

  "Only way to catch the worms." Hatch opened the driver’s side door and tossed her satchel onto the passenger seat.

  "I can make you a cup to go if you like?" He jutted his chin in the direction of the office. "It's no trouble, really."

  The dark sky grew brighter with each passing minute. With sunrise just around the corner, Hatch politely declined Harlin's offer and climbed inside the Cherokee. She pulled away from the motel, the crackle and pop of the rocks underneath marked her departure. Harlin remained in the doorway to his office, watching her until she was out of sight.

  Hatch sped through town. Most of the lights in the trailer homes and small ranches were off. As she passed by the diner, Clem could be seen through the glass of the front door. He was busy serving a couple early-risers bellied up to the counter.

  The Jeep scooted past the edge of the town square and onward until she passed the distinctive red of Clem's mailbox. Less than two minutes later, Hatch reached the dirt road to the Eternal Light commune.

  She looked to the sky as she rounded the bend toward the main gate. Gauging the growing brightness to the east, she figured she had ten minutes before the sun would be up. In the military, raids and ambushes were planned for this time of day. The advantages were many. Night watchmen were at their weariest and the subtle shift from dark to light messed with their vision, making it a prime time for attack. Though the purpose of her visit had no tactical element, she felt the rush that comes in those moments before battle as she made her way to the open gate. Standing in wait at the entrance was Dorothy Green, Kyla's mother, and her small Scottie stood guard by her ankle.

  Hatch parked the Jeep and approached. "I'm here for this morning's ceremony."

  "I know." Green looked to the satchel slung over Hatch's shoulder. "You must set aside your bag before you can enter. You can have nothing with you when you enter for this morning's Rise."

  Hatch put her cellphone in the satchel and then jogged back to her rental and tossed it on the seat before returning.

  Green held out her arms. A white tunic was draped across them. "You may leave your clothes on but must cover yourself with this if you wish to participate in the Rise."

  "Participate? I thought I was invited to watch." Hatch accepted the tunic.

  "We are all here to watch over her and bear witness to the transcendence at hand." Green's voice was low and had an emptiness to it.

  Beneath piety, Hatch saw the deep pain of a grieving mother as she assisted in pulling the tunic over Hatch's head. The sleeves were cut wide, allowing for a full range of motion. The fabric hung loosely over her clothes, ending just above the ankles. Hatch noticed that Green's did also. As Hatch took stock of the group, she realized that all the women wore longer tunics than their male counterparts.

  The wind began to blow and Hatch's dress fluttered about. Green moved with the grace of a ballerina as she stepped behind Hatch and wrapped a braided rope around her waist. She gave a light tug, drawing in the waist and bringing the flapping to an end. Hatch felt the gentleness in her touch, and thought, without knowing, that Dorothy Green must be a wonderful mother.

  Before they made their way further into the interior of the commune and while Green was still close by, Hatch whispered, "I'm here to help you find your daughter."

  Green reared back as if Hatch had just slapped her. The solemn serenity was replaced by fear. Green shot a worried glance behind her to where the others had gathered, stopping on one person in particular, the leader of the Eternal Light.

  The Shepherd stood beside a stone altar holding his staff. Laying on the granite slab was Marigold. The little girl's hair was braided, just as it had been the day before. Around her head lay a wreath of flowers.

  The others were seated in a tight circle around the altar. They sat cross-legged with their hands resting on their knees. It was silent, minus the rustling leaves.

  As Green escorted Hatch, she whispered, "There is no talking during the ceremony. You must be silent during the Rise."

  Green approached a gap in the circle where space had been set aside for her return with Hatch. Mathias sat just behind The Shepherd. His tall form stood out among the shorter members.

  The Shepherd stood motionless, except for the breeze flapping the bottom edges of his tunic. His eyes were transfixed on the girl before him. The first beams of sunlight began to crest a distant ridgeline. As time passed and the sun continued to rise, the group remained silent, focusing on the child covered in flowers.

  Hatch looked at the girl and thought again of Daphne
sleeping next to her in her sister's bed.

  Marigold was Sleeping Beauty incarnate. Her eyes closed, her hands remained folded across her chest. Her body was covered in fresh flowers, the white of her tunic peeking through.

  The sunlight cleared the treetops and danced its way across the low rooftops of the two rows of houses until it reached the altar. Inch by inch, the light kissed the girl's skin, starting with her toes and working its way up the length of her body until the altar and the girl on it were bathed in light. Colorful flowers showed their true beauty in the morning's glow. Hatch wondered if the little Marigold had picked them all herself.

  The Shepherd raised his staff high, turning it sideways over the length of the girl's body, the etched infinity symbols catching the morning light.

  "We bear witness to Marigold's transcendence, her Rise from girl to woman. She now possesses God's greatest gift, taken for granted in the world outside these walls. Her womb now ready, when the time is right, she will take on the greatest calling. Motherhood. The womb is the key to God's eternal light. For it is from there His likeness is born, like the passing of a torch to light a dark path, a path to eternity, one without end. Rise, young Marigold, and let us bathe in your eternal light."

  Marigold sat up, sending a cascade of flowers to the dirt around the altar. Her eyes opened. She blinked them against the brightness of the sun. Then she stood on the altar and opened her arms wide. The childlike wonder that Hatch had seen when she first met the girl was there.

  Marigold then placed her hands on her stomach and said, "I will pass the torch."

  The group raised their hands in praise and called out in unison, "Light Eternal."

  The Shepherd brought his staff down. "We have borne witness, and now we must celebrate."

  Hatch could still feel the sadness emanating from Green, who stood beside her. The missing girl's mother forced a smile as she raised her arms in worship.

  Moving like a conga line in a serpentine fashion, the group snaked the figure eight around the altar where Marigold danced happily among the fallen flowers. The group broke into song as the procession continued. Hatch moved with the flow, keeping step with Green, who was now in front of her. She didn't sing or raise her hands like the others, but she did bear witness, not only to the young girl but the man who stood by with staff in hand, watching Marigold with intensity.