“Some lady’s here to see you,” Tamara whispers into the phone. “She says she’s a journalist and drove over from Florida.”
“Florida?” I stare into the sink wishing Tamara had never called. “Who is she?”
“I. Don’t. Know.” Tamara pronounces each word slowly, as if talking to a child.
“That is why I am trying to track you down before Mom gets back from the store.”
“Why does she want to talk to me?”
“She said she wants to ask you some questions. Something about an incident with a preacher in Gainesville.” The word Gainesville makes my stomach turn. I try to block visions of Will and Meredith. And especially Kara.
“Tell her to meet me at the harbor park. I can be there in twenty minutes,” I say without even thinking through what it means to agree to meet with her. “Just please get her out of the house before anyone gets home.”
“Okaaaay,” Tamara says, her tone signaling she’ll help me with this situation.
I hear Alex stirring in the other room. A wave of dizziness causes me to lean against the counter. An intense fear overrides any curiosity I would otherwise have about news from Gainesville.
Guilt. Shame. It’s natural to wonder how you didn’t realize what was going on at the time, but don’t obsess. Focus on how you can live an authentic life now and in the future.
A Journalist Named Julia
The bank sign says 102 degrees.
The park is empty except for a man fishing from the bridge, and I spot the journalist pacing around the enormous gazebo at the top of the hill.
I know I could have stood her up, or let her come back to the house to face Dad, who undoubtedly would send her scurrying away for good. But when I started the engine of my car to leave Alex’s house, something clicked in my mind. As much as I thought being at home and sleeping in my own bed far away from the Kingdom would solve everything, it hasn’t. At. All. The entire situation still feels so unsettled. Unresolved. What if she had information that could help me process this mess?
When I walk up to her, she immediately sticks out her hand. “Emily? I’m Julia James. A reporter working on an article about an incident that happened down near Gainesville.”
I shake her hand and we sit down at a rickety picnic table. The vague squeal of children echoes from the playground through the massive oak trees; it’s a sound requiring constant intonation to decipher amusement from possible terror. I sit silently, watching her put a notebook on the table and rest her hands on it. “Oh. Here’s my card.” She hands it to me, and I stare at it while she’s talking. “I’m so sorry to contact you out of nowhere, but I’m covering a story that you may know something about. Did you know a couple from Nashville who moved to Boston to manage a church called the Kingdom? They went by the names Meredith and Will.”
I look up, but don’t say anything. I sit quiet and still until she starts in again, hoping she will answer the questions I’ve had since leaving Italy without requiring much from me in return.
“Will was found dead in his car.” Julia stops talking just as my face goes numb.
My stomach lurches.
“Are you okay?” she asks in a concerned tone.
“I’m fine,” I say calmly, looking her in the eye. From her expression, it’s clear that I most certainly do not appear to be fine. “Go ahead,” I say, pushing my fingertips into my forehead. My eyes burn, but not with tears—it’s more like an escalating headache.
“A large crate containing exotic snakes was found more than sixty feet from the vehicle, which is odd because no one else was at the scene. One of the snakes, a five-foot black mamba, was found loose inside the car with him. He also had a glove compartment full of sterile syringes. Did you hear about this in the news?”
“No,” I say. All I can think about is how sick Will looked the last time I saw him and what Josh had told me about the Remnant.
“Okay. Did you know a college student named Josh?”
What? I try not to give a reaction, but I can tell she knows she’s onto something. Beads of sweat begin dripping down my back. “Yes,” I whisper, staring at the graffiti on the picnic table.
“He’s actually the one who gave me your name.” She shifts her notebook deliberately and watches for my reaction.
My eyes widen in shock. “What?” I say it out loud this time. The entire world spins. Josh gave her my name? “Why would he—” I press my lips together. Don’t say anything else. I take a deep breath and stare off at the bayou. A pelican calls overhead and lands on a nearby post in the water. It tucks its beak down into its chest as if protecting its heart.
“I know it must be scary to talk about an experience like this, but sometimes it can help with recovery,” she says.
Her gentle tone softens my resolve. Still, I don’t say anything.
She writes something in her notebook and flips to another page. “Your friend Josh was hoping to find you but didn’t know where you were. He said you both were in the cult—”
I stand abruptly, my mind reeling. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” I don’t even let her respond before I take off for my car.
I’m already halfway to the parking lot when she calls out behind me. “I know about Italy. And your friend Kara.”
That stops me in my tracks.
Anger and fear burn through me, causing my hands to shake. Waves of heat radiate from the black asphalt of the parking lot. I fight an overwhelming surge of nausea. I’m not even sure I can make it to my car.
Julia calmly continues as if giving me mundane information I could take or leave while catching up with me. “Kara’s story is key to figuring out what happened—to stop it from happening again. I think we could put some pieces together,” she says, now within hand-shaking distance.
“What did Josh say?” I ask quietly.
“One thing he said is that he really wants to talk to you.” She lowers her voice. “Look. I know this must be extremely difficult for you. But I write about the aftermath of the most horrific situations for a living, so I also know closure can be a powerful thing.”
Closure is all I want. But I don’t trust anyone to give me what I need.
I calmly make it to my car, slam the door, and drive away. My hands shake violently the entire drive home. The house is empty. I bolt straight up to my room and lock the door before allowing myself to sob uncontrollably.
* * *
I try my best to forget about Julia, but I can’t stop thinking about our conversation. … To stop it from happening again.
I did not mention any of this to Dad. He would have a fit, as it took weeks of irate phone calls and angry lawyer letters to finally get my stuff shipped here from Boston. They tried to say I signed some sort of contract, but by the time Dad was through with them, they actually had my car specially driven all the way to the end of Mississippi. (Free of charge.)
I decide to go to the library to verify Julia’s story about Will and the black mamba snake. It’s all there in print. And it’s all true.
Will is dead.
I fall against the back of a wooden library chair. I feel… I don’t know how I feel. Knowing for sure doesn’t make me sad, yet it isn’t cathartic, either. Since returning home, it feels like the Kingdom had opened up a hidden corner of my heart that’s now torn apart and exposed—like having surgery without being sewn back together. And if knowing Will is gone forever doesn’t make it better, then what if it’s impossible to ever fully heal? Someone else has probably already taken his place to yell at brand-new disciples—to tear their hearts apart. The thought sickens me.
Maybe helping Julia get justice for Kara could work. Maybe it could even stop the entire Kingdom.
While the idea scares me, I can’t bring myself to dismiss it. So I study the details in the article, which explains how the snakes were shipped through a commercial airline. Will picked them up and signed for them himself. But that doesn’t explain why one was loose in his car, yet the crate holding the other s
nakes was a good distance away. It also doesn’t explain why he had syringes in his glove compartment.
My mind flashes to Kara’s snake tattoo, to the syringe by her body. The fact that Josh insisted she didn’t do drugs, and I never saw signs of that either.
Kara, what happened to you?
The news story hints that someone else must have been involved in Will’s death, but the local authorities have no leads. It also says snake venom is nearly impossible to pinpoint as a primary cause of death, because of the way the venom breaks down in a body.
Julia James is onto something with this. The tapes haunt my thoughts like something dark and unspeakable. I wish I’d dumped them in a train station trash can when I had the chance.
But what if they hold the answers … ?
Back home, I open my closet door, my heart racing inside my chest. Kara’s Walkman is on top of the box of tapes. A wave of nervousness hits me as I open a tape at random and click it into the Walkman. I press play and watch the small-toothed circles spin for a few seconds before putting the headphones over my ears.
It’s Andrew’s voice. When I hear the level of fear and sadness in his tone, I immediately start crying. Will is asking questions. “How many times were you with him?” he asks.
“Three,” Andrew says. I hear him sniffling. He’s crying.
“Did you know it was a sin the first time?”
“Yes,” Andrew whispers.
“Then how could you go back to that sin, not just once, but twice?”
Andrew doesn’t answer, and I hear Will sigh in frustration. This must be what they call a breaking session.
“You know that homosexual behavior will keep you from the Kingdom of God. Do you not?”
“Yes.” Andrew sounds like he’s trying to hold it together.
Will starts yelling. “Then why would you go back to that sin like a dog returning to its vomit?! Do you not know that the Lord detests sinners? And that you will never be able to enter into the Kingdom of heaven?”
Andrew is crying again. There’s a long, silent pause.
“I should call your parents,” Will says calmly.
“No!” Andrew yells.
“I should tell them what a filthy little sinning faggot you are. And that you have no shame for those sins.”
“Please … Please don’t tell anyone!” Andrew begs. “I’m so sorry. It will never happen again. Please don’t say anything.”
There’s a long pause. Then Will speaks very low, almost in a whisper. “Your parents may understand, but voters won’t.”
Andrew is sobbing. “Please just tell me what to do to make things right.”
“There is something. Something very powerful that eradicates the sin.” There’s a long pause. “Are you willing to try it?”
“Yes,” Andrew says, his voice cracking.
My hands are shaking violently when I press stop. My heart races. I remember Andrew’s face the last time I saw him. How afraid he looked when I told him about the snake in my room. Andrew knew about the Remnant. Will must have been poisoning him with the promise of eradicating his “sins.” I pull the tape out, stick it back in its case, and shove everything in the box. It sits in front of me like a loaded gun.
I’m sobbing as I shove it back into the darkness of my closet.
Soon after, Dad starts pounding insistently on my door. I let him in and collapse in his arms. We sit on the floor together, and I cry hysterically until I’m too exhausted to move. He gently smooths my hair with his hand. Shhhhhhhh. He says it over and over. And when I’m almost asleep, he carries me like a child and pulls the covers over my shoulders.
The least I can do is help Julia figure out what happened.
For Kara.
But also for Andrew and Lily. And Josh.
* * *
The next morning, as soon as Dad leaves for the office, I hold Julia’s card and stare at the phone. I can’t help but think about that night at Deborah’s in Zurich when I was such a desperate mess, yet she stayed so calm. She knew exactly what to do and who to call. She completely took control and steered me out of my nightmare, even when I thought things were hopeless, even when she hardly knew me. Deborah is exactly the kind of person I want to be.
I call Julia and give two stipulations for our next meeting:
It has to be at a restaurant several towns away from my house, closer to New Orleans.
Julia has to bring Josh.
My hand is still shaking when I hang up, but for the first time since I got home, I feel like I’m taking control. Even if I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, I refuse to sit around hoping the tapes will somehow miraculously disappear while the people responsible for our abuse could be out there recruiting more people. Recording their deepest secrets. Using them to their benefit, no matter the emotional cost.
I’m not scared anymore—I’m furious.
* * *
They’re waiting when I get there. The seafood dive is bustling with the local lunch crowd. Josh doesn’t see me until I sit down across from him.
“Hi,” he says. He blinks nervously, then quickly looks down at his lap. My heart aches with regret. The same person I fell for just a few months ago is right in front of me—close enough to touch. And he looks exactly the same. My head has to remind me about the lies—his lies—that led us here.
“You look good,” I say in a cordial tone.
“Thanks.” He smiles, but his eyes are hollow and sad, just like the last time I saw him on the train.
Julia opens the checkered cloth nestled in a basket in the middle of our table and pulls out a piece of freshly made bread. She butters it gingerly, seemingly oblivious to our awkwardness. “Let’s get down to business,” she says. “I’ve been a journalist for fifteen years, and I can tell you this story has the potential to blow this ‘Kingdom’ apart the minute the ink hits the page. All sources can be first names only to protect you and other victims.”
Victims. I swallow a gulp of water, trying to stay composed.
Julia pauses and leans forward. “Here’s the thing. I don’t think your friend Kara drowned, and I don’t think it was an accident.”
Josh and I exchange glances, but neither one of us speaks. He doesn’t seem nervous or fidgety. Just sad. It’s almost a relief to hear someone say what I thought all along.
Julia looks at me. “As Josh and I already discussed, the only person who had the power to sign off on Kara’s death as an accidental drowning without triggering a formal inquiry by the Italian authorities would be a parent.”
“But her mother was never there,” I say.
“Her father was,” Josh says.
“What?” I ask. Then a sudden memory of Kara’s voice: My whole existence is a sin.
Will was Kara’s father? The room seems distorted and the ambient noise around me booms like someone is cranking the volume all the way up. I look at Julia. “Um, Julia? May I have a moment alone with Josh?” I ask politely.
“Sure,” she says, quick to accommodate. “I need to check my messages anyway. I saw a pay phone in the lobby.”
Josh’s eyebrows furrow in thought as she stands up and walks out.
When she’s a good distance away, I turn back to Josh. “Look. I know I set this up, but are you sure we want to do this?” I ask. A father and daughter are both dead. Everything about this situation—one Josh and I both were tangled in—suddenly feels dangerous.
Josh shifts in his chair and leans forward so he won’t have to talk so loudly. “It’s going to come out anyway. I just … I need to know what really happened. To her,” he says.
“I do too, but there could be consequences. Retaliation for talking.”
“We need to know the truth.” His eyes are glossed with grief.
“What about the Sin Lists?” I watch him closely as I say it.
A look of panic shoots across his face. “What about them?”
I can’t help myself. I want to know his version of the truth, so I play dumb. “W
ho has them?”
“I don’t know. Ben never found them when we were in Italy. He was frantic. I heard the church blamed him when we got back, and he was marked and disconnected. Meredith went through every corner of the entire villa before I left, too. They’re just gone.”
“You don’t think they had copies somewhere else?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Think about it. How disorganized we were over there. Think of how many tens of thousands of members are in the Kingdom and how many people who confessed were recorded. If they’d had copies why tear the villa apart?”
“Do you think we should tell Julia about them?”
“No,” Josh says abruptly, practically jumping out of his chair. “We just want to know what happened to Kara. The Sin Lists have nothing to do with her.”
I look at him again, this time suspiciously. “Is that why you were in my room that night? And why you met me in the train station?”
Josh puts his head in his hands. He talks quietly while pressing his fingers into his forehead. “Emily, you have no idea how sorry I am. About everything. I said things in those confessions I should have never discussed with anyone. Things about my family that would ruin their lives forever—especially my mom’s, and I would never do that to her. I trusted Ben, and he destroyed my life.”
I wince at Josh’s words. I talked about things I’d never want anyone to hear. And I can’t even think about Andrew’s tape without crying. I should have never played it at all.
Josh is right. No one should hear any of the tapes.
Julia strolls back toward our table.
“So. Are we okay here?” She looks back and forth at us. “How about we order some food.”
“Okay. But I think it’s time I introduce you to someone this afternoon. I can’t really talk about any of this without him.”
“Who’s that?”
“My dad,” I say.
* * *
As we’re leaving, I ask Julia if she could give us another minute alone. “I need to talk to Josh again. Privately,” I say.
Those Who Prey Page 26
