BUT later, when it was dark, and they were pressed close, she gasped into his shoulder. “You probably don’t have to right now, though.”
“What?” he said, pushing up on his arms over her in the darkness. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m just going to start my period, like, any minute now.”
“That’s really helping the mood, you telling me that.”
She rolled her eyes. “I just mean, I can’t, like, get pregnant now, so if you wanted to… you know, we could wait and save the condoms until they’re absolutely necessary.”
He made a grunting noise. “You sure?”
“Positive,” she said.
“Okay,” he acquiesced.
Which was funny, because she kind of thought he would have argued more about it, especially since he was so adamant about not wanting to knock her up.
Then he kissed her, and she only thought of how nice it was to be close to him.
In the morning, they met with Krieger in the lobby and set out for the Love Over Want facility. They had to take a bus to get there, but Krieger said the facility would serve breakfast, so there was no need to worry over that at the hotel.
“But coffee?” said Wren.
“Do they have coffee?” said Reilly.
Just to be sure, they got some coffee from the hotel first. You couldn’t have too much coffee, after all.
When they arrived, they went into a large room that was the cafeteria, and there was indeed coffee, as well as egg white wraps with avocado and tomato and sprouted grain pancakes.
“Everything’s vegetarian, by the way,” Krieger said. “Did I mention that?”
“Figures,” muttered Wren. The FCL had not been vegetarian, but food had not been a free for all either. There had been a push for healthy eating—no junk and processed foods. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with cutting out foods that weren’t good for you, but it was a hallmark of cults to attempt to control every aspect of the members’ lives. Making them stick to a certain diet was a great way to do that.
“That a problem?” said Krieger.
“Nope,” said Wren. “I don’t need meat.”
“Me either,” said Reilly. “Coffee’s vegetarian, right?”
“Yes,” said Krieger. “You saw the coffee on the way in.”
“Yeah, but it could have been some kind of weird coffee substitute, like Postalum or whatever.”
“It’s Postum,” said Wren.
Reilly furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“Oh, hey, Gloria,” said Krieger, waving at a pretty blond woman who was coming across the room. She had a badge on her shirt that read Gloria Bryant, Staff.
Gloria stopped, raising her eyebrows in a way that managed to be somehow patronizing and also disingenuous. “Oh, Clive, you’re back.” She smiled widely, and her voice sounded as though she was happy, but Wren felt as if she was putting the whole thing on somehow. “So good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” he said.
“We missed you so much,” said Gloria.
“I couldn’t stay away,” said Krieger. “And I want you to meet my friends, Wren and Cai.” They were using their real first names, but Cai sounded a little less memorable than Caius, so he was being introduced simply as that. As for last names, they’d be using aliases, just like Krieger had.
“Oh, new blood.” Gloria’s smile widened, but her eyes were cold.
Wren did not like this woman, but she shook her hand anyway.
“And how do you know them?”
“Oh, we go way back,” said Krieger. “I was a groomsman at their wedding, in fact.”
“You’re married?” said Gloria.
“Yeah, we owned a restaurant together,” said Reilly. “You know, they tell you the statistic of how many restaurants fail before you open one, and you never think you’re going to end up on the wrong side of the statistics.”
“Oh, too bad,” said Gloria. “But you know, you’re in the right place if you want to get yourselves back on your feet. And if you cook—”
“We don’t cook,” said Wren.
“But you opened a restaurant,” said Gloria.
“That should have been our first sign it wasn’t going to go well,” said Reilly.
Gloria blinked at them. A beat passed. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, you two are funny!” She beamed brightly (and somehow blankly) at Krieger. “Good to see you, Clive.” She scurried off.
“She’s on the staff here,” said Krieger.
“Yeah, she drinks the Kool-Aid all right,” said Wren.
Krieger laughed. “You are funny.” He pointed. “You see that guy over there? That’s Paul Watkins.”
“Ooh, he’s our guy, right?” said Wren.
“Yeah,” said Krieger. “But he’s a little bit nosy, so let’s get some food and sit down and he’ll come to us.”
But on their way to the food, they were stopped by another man with a staff badge. His said, Douglas Sanders. He wore a suit and tie, and his salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed. He shook hands with Krieger. “Good to see you again, Clive,” he said warmly. “Will you introduce me to your friends?”
“Definitely,” said Krieger. “This is Wren and Cai, and this is Doug. He’s basically the leader around here.”
“To lead is to serve,” said Doug. “I hope we can be of some assistance to you here.” He shook both of their hands.
“What’s that guy’s story?” said Wren, after Doug had moved on and was out of earshot
“He’s kind of the boss,” said Krieger, who was picking up a fruit cup to go on his plate along with his egg white wrap.
“You think he’s involved?” said Wren.
“If it’s systemic, he’s got to be,” said Krieger. “But I can’t be sure Watkins isn’t just running this whole thing on his own somehow. This place is a little weird, but they do help people, and maybe he’s taking advantage of that. Maybe the Love Over Want organization is innocent.”
Wren kind of doubted it. She didn’t mean to be cynical, but she was also very wary of anyone who claimed to be doing something simply to help people. She guessed maybe there were good people out there. She wasn’t familiar with that, however, so she couldn’t help but be suspicious. However, it was probably best to keep that to themselves.
With their breakfasts in tow, they went over to claim a spot at one of the long tables that ran up and down the room. They left their plates there and went over to get coffee.
Once settled and sipping at her coffee, Wren felt better. If there was coffee, then at least one thing was right with the world. Coffee was life.
Reilly was eating his egg white wrap and making appreciative noises while chewing. He swallowed. “Hey, this is really good. You should try yours, Wren.”
Wren had almost opted for the pancakes, but then she’d decided that she wanted to have protein in her if they were going to work all morning and gone for the egg white instead. She picked up her wrap and took a bite. It was, indeed, delicious. It was very well seasoned for cafeteria food. She took another bite, chewing it slowly, nodding.
“See?” said Reilly.
She swallowed. “Yeah, very good.”
“What kind of food did you serve at your restaurant?” cut in a voice.
They all looked up to see Paul Watkins standing over them.
Krieger smiled. “Paul. Please join us. Sit down.”
“Thanks, Clive,” said Watkins, sitting down next to Krieger, opposite Wren and Reilly. He was in his late thirties to early forties and he had a wide, welcoming sort of smile. Wren thought of David Song and tried not to let her dislike of him show on her face. “I’m right, aren’t I? I hear you had a restaurant.”
“We served, uh, a typical American menu,” said Reilly. “Burgers, sandwiches, fries, that kind of thing.”
“We had a meatloaf special,” said Wren. “With mashed potatoes.”
“I still miss that meatloaf sometimes,”
said Reilly. “Not that anyone needs to eat meat, though, of course. I think our entire culture eats too much meat.”
“Sure, sure,” said Watkins. “I’m not vegetarian myself, but it is cheaper here to prepare vegetarian meals, which… well, I can’t deny does affect our decision about it. And you two are married?”
Reilly nodded.
Krieger’s eyes were shining. Wren could see that he was pleased. This was all happening very quickly, wasn’t it?
Watkins turned to Krieger. “You vouch for them, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Krieger. “They are both great people. Just down on their luck is all. But hard workers, ready to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.”
“Just what we like to hear,” said Watkins, smiling at them again. “Listen, I know it’s your first day, and if you want to head out with Krieger to pick peaches at the orchards, I’m not going to stop you, but if you’re interested—” He was interrupted by a beeping noise emanating from his pocket. He raised himself up enough to take his phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear. He held up a finger at the two of them, indicating he’d just be a minute. Into the phone, he said, “Scott? What’s going on?” A long pause, and then he sat forward, furrowing his brow. “Now, listen, you tell her to calm down and remind her of the mission, and you tell her that what she’s asking is out of the question.” He listened. “No, I don’t want to talk to her. You talk to her. I don’t want anything to do with it. Per our conversation the other night, we are still on the same page, right?” Another pause. “All right, then, I don’t understand why we’re having this conversation.” He hung up. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Sorry about that.” He grinned widely at Wren and Reilly.
What the hell was that about?
“Laundry,” said Watkins with a large smile.
“Laundry?” echoed Wren.
“You two want to help out with laundry today? You can stay here in the building. There’s a lot of stuff that needs washed. You’d be paid, of course. Same rates as the orchard. But you’d be in the air conditioning, and I’d definitely like the chance to get to know you better.”
“Sounds good to us,” said Reilly, giving Wren a glance.
“You guys definitely would rather do that,” said Krieger, who was smiling almost as widely as Watkins.
“Definitely,” said Wren.
“Excellent,” said Watkins. “Then it’s settled. After breakfast, you stay here. I’ll come and find you.” He got up from the table, tapped it twice as if for good measure, and then he walked off.
Krieger leaned forward, his face like a kid at Christmas. “You’re here ten minutes and he wants you. This is brilliant.”
“Yeah, that really was easy,” said Wren. “And what do you think that conversation was about?”
“I don’t know,” said Krieger. “But Scott Irving is one of the people who’s gone missing. You said he might be keeping them alive somewhere.”
“With access to a phone?” said Wren. She considered. “Well, they’re probably well and truly brainwashed by now. Maybe that’s why they don’t leave. But you should consider, Krieger, that if we find a bunch of people doing something of their own free will, if we can’t prove coercion, it’s probably not going to go well for us.”
“We’ll prove coercion,” said Krieger. “You guys are going to bust this wide open. I can just tell.”
They finished eating and drinking their coffee, but they didn’t talk much more, because it wouldn’t do if they were overheard.
Krieger left on a bus with most of the other people there, heading out to pick peaches.
Wren and Reilly stayed put.
The cafeteria emptied out. Watkins was nowhere to be seen.
Time passed.
After about fifteen minutes, Wren got up. “Should we go exploring?”
Reilly raised his eyebrows at her. “You think we’re going to find a room full of mummified corpses or something?”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” said Wren.
“Watkins told us to stay here,” said Reilly.
“Well, we thought he told us that, but when he didn’t show up, we decided he must have said that we should find him instead of him finding us, and so we went looking.”
Reilly got up from the table. “Okay. Works for me.”
They left the cafeteria. Now, they were in a hallway that stretched the length of the building. At one end, there was a set of steps that led to an upper level. Between them and the steps were three doors. They opened each one.
In the first, they found a room with tables and chairs, all set up facing a projector and a white board. There were notes written on the board in orange marker, which said things about motivation and discouragement. If you do not try, you cannot fail. Don’t let fear of failure hold you back.
The next door opened onto a closet, which seemed to contain mostly rows and rows of black robes, like it was Darth Vader’s wardrobe. There were also a few sets of windbreakers hanging nearer to the door. That was weird.
“Maybe they have a graduation ceremony or something, and they give these to everyone,” said Reilly.
“Could be.” Wren shrugged. “Weird, though, right?”
“Very,” said Reilly.
The third door opened onto another classroom like the first one, but there was nothing written on the board in this one and the chairs were folded up and stacked on wheeled pallets in the back of the room.
“There you are!” came Watkins’s cheery voice.
They backed out of the classroom.
“Sorry,” said Wren. “We were just—”
“Oh, it’s fine to explore,” said Watkins. “I was running late, anyway. You probably started thinking that I said to come find me instead of that I was going to find you.” He chuckled. “No worries.”
Huh. Wren wouldn’t have thought he’d be so open about everything.
“Come with me,” said Watkins, beckoning.
He led them up the steps. Upstairs, there was another hallway, but the floor was carpeted up here and there was wallpaper on the walls in muted mauves and greens. The place vaguely resembled a doctor’s office or an office building. He stopped in front of a door that had Douglas Sanders’s name on it and knocked.
“Come on in,” called a voice from within.
Watkins pushed the door open. “I need some contracts for these two.”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Sanders, getting up and going to a file cabinet against the wall.
Contracts? What the hell was this?
Sanders handed them two pieces of paper. One was an employment agreement and the other was a W-2 form.
Wren was surprised. She hadn’t thought that the organization would be so law abiding as to comply with tax law. But it was a problem, because their identities weren’t legally recognized. If they filled this out, they’d need to get in touch with someone to smooth all that over for them.
Sanders gestured to a table in the corner of his office, flanked on two sides by bookshelves. “You two want to sit down there and fill these out?”
Wren and Reilly sat down and began to work on them.
“If you don’t have a permanent residence, you’re welcome to use the address here,” said Sanders. He rattled it off, and Wren duly noted it down. That made things easier.
As she was finishing up, one of the books on the shelf caught her eye. It was 777 and Other Qabalistic Writings of Aleister Crowley. She gazed at it for a moment, and then her gaze took in the rest of the books in the row, all of which seemed to have titles with Magick or Enochian or Bacchanalian in them. She cleared her throat. “Interesting library you have here.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Sanders, chuckling. “My tastes do run a bit to the eclectic, I suppose. Are you looking at the occult books? I have a fascination, I must admit. Can’t get enough of it.”
“Huh,” said Wren. “I guess it is interesting.”
“Positively riveting,” said Sanders. “Do you wa
nt to borrow anything? I’m happy to allow that, but just don’t fold down the pages to mark your spot. I can’t bear that.” He shuddered, but he was smiling all the while.
“Thank you,” said Wren, “but that’s not necessary.”
“Too bad,” said Sanders. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Wren nodded. “Sure thing,”she said brightly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WATKINS had run off again somewhere, so after signing papers, Wren and Reilly simply waited around in the hall, and Wren tried not to think anything about the fact that there were black robes in a closet downstairs and a bunch of occult books on Sanders’s shelf.
No, there are no people who kill for Satan, she told herself. Even the Church of Satan doesn’t believe in a real Satan. Apparently, the Church of Satan was an organization of sort of professional trolls. They went around getting places to enforce the separation of church and state in places like schools. If some church group rolled up and wanted to give kindergartners tracts, the Church of Satan said, “Oh, we have lovely Satanic literature for children that we’d like to distribute!” This tended to end any interference from any religious group at all. The Church of Satan members were all athiests, apparently.
No, this wasn’t the 1980s, and Satanic panic had mostly been caused by mass hysteria and fake repressed memories, and she was not falling into that.
Watkins was their guy, anyway, and he didn’t have the occult literature.
Of course, the robes were in the building.
“What are you thinking?” Reilly said to her.
“About how the West Memphis Three were innocent,” she said.
“What?” He was thoroughly confused.
She sighed. “Talk to me again about graduation gowns.”
But that moment, Gloria Bryant appeared, closing a door down the hall from them. She saw them and suddenly plastered a big, fake smile on her face. She hurried over to them. “How are you both?”
Wren looked at her. Was this how sacrifices to His Infernal Majesty were treated?
“We’re fine,” said Reilly. “Just, uh, waiting on Paul.”
“Paul is like that,” she said, nodding. Her gaze was still a little too blank for Wren’s liking. On the other hand, maybe this was like The Stepford Wives and Gloria was a robot.
Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller Page 6
