“You’ve got two days to get to know the yoshies and get us evidence that somebody from there has been killing off these women. You know the rules, but you should use any skill in your arsenal, no matter how rusty it might be, to get us what we need to nail this bastard. I’m tired of women turning up dead, and this is our only way to stop it.” With that less-than-motivational speech, he turned and waddled out.
“That’s Eli Connor,” the second suit explained as he moved forward with his right hand extended, “and I’m Mack Patrick, at your service.”
“She doesn’t need your service,” Agent Peters snapped. “She needs your gear.”
Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of the way Agent Peters was acting. He seemed equally irritated at her and the man who’d just introduced himself as Mack.
Not seeming phased by the rude interruption, Mack continued, “I handle a lot of the toys around here. We aren’t the CIA, but we have plenty of gizmos and contraptions to make us safer and our time in the field a little easier.”
Anything that could simplify this assignment was welcome as far as Ellie was concerned. Mack asked them to follow him over to a table at the front and pointed to a series of items he’d laid out.
“This is your tracker,” he announced, holding up a dark elastic band with a black flower on it.
Ellie wasn’t much of a flower kind of person, but it was small, and she figured a ponytail was most likely going to be her only hairstyling option, so she took it from him.
“It’s water-resistant, but not waterproof, so you’re okay to sweat on it and take it into a sauna, but if you dive in a pool, it’s shot.”
“Good to know,” she replied, slipping it around her wrist like a bracelet to keep it on her without messing with her hair in front of the two men.
“Nice,” Mack said, watching her alternate use. “I was going to tell you it could go in your pocket if you couldn’t use it in your hair, but that’s even better.” Then he moved down the table and picked up a tank top just like the one Ellie had packed to wear during her yoga sessions. “This is your wire when you’re too exposed to wear the traditional microphone.”
As far as Ellie could see, it was just a cotton shirt. “How is that a wire?”
Mack was clearly pleased at her question. “Micro technology is a wonderful thing,” he offered, before turning the shirt inside out and flipping the tag at the back upside down. There on the back of the label was a small metal recording device. Then he pointed to the seams running from the neck across the back and down each side, which appeared rounder than usual. “The mic uses the antennae here to transmit. We should be able to auto record anything you say or that’s said around you.” He turned it back right side out, and Ellie was shocked that it still appeared to be typical gym wear. “The battery life is about a week, so you’re covered any time you’re there. This is technically water-resistant as well, but I’d try to avoid getting it wet because it can screw up the sound quality.”
How she was supposed to keep it totally dry while working out, Ellie wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t willing to ask for advice about not sweating in front of them.
Not knowing her mind had wandered, he kept talking. “We’ll record and archive everything you pick up so you can have it for review later if you need it.”
That was a relief. This way she could stay in the moment while she was there without having to worry about trying to commit details to memory.
“And your final piece is this.” He picked up a small barrette and handed it to her.
Ellie didn’t typically need to use a barrette and an elastic band when she put her hair up, but she didn’t want to insult the guy who was so obviously pleased with what he’d brought.
“That’s an emergency alert button,” he explained.
While it was thicker than the average clip-style barrette, she couldn’t see how it would engage. Mack must have picked up on her confusion, because he took it from her fingers and opened it wide enough that it straightened out flat. Once it was flat, he snapped it backwards, and she heard the click of a signal mechanism. “It’s awkward because it’s not a touch button, but it rules out the possibility of a false signal for help. If you’d rather have a traditional call button, I can grab you one of those too.”
“No,” Ellie assured him, folding the clip back to its original shape as a barrette. “I think this is perfect and much easier to conceal in yoga clothes.”
They spent the next thirty minutes going over protocol for the equipment and having Mack run her through ways to maximize their use. By the time he was done, Ellie felt as though she had a real backup team, even if they were total strangers and partly electronic. She wasn’t going into this alone.
Once he left, Agent Peters took her through a briefing. In addition to running through the information Ellie had uncovered, he added a few details. The owner of the resort was a family named Garrison. It had been a luxury hotel for years and had been losing money until about five years ago when they reinvented it as a yoga retreat and brought in the current yoga leader. They had a coaching and teaching staff of eight, personal trainers, a kitchen and cooking crew, groundskeepers, security and other spa employees. In total, Yoga for Life employed thirty-eight people.
The medallions given to the women were designed especially for the center, but only those who completed a weekend of lifestyle coaching received them. All private students were initially assessed by the yoga leader, but he didn’t necessarily work with them personally. Her objective was to try and figure out how the assignment of coaching instructors worked and only then to look around for anyone else who might have a reason to knock off previous clients after they returned home. The leading theory was that the killer was one of the lifestyle coaches. So far, it had proven difficult to get information about which instructor had worked with the victims without revealing the FBI was investigating the retreat center. They needed more information, but no one wanted to alert the killer and risk them running.
Her dad had taught her that working with blinders was a fast way to see only what you wanted to see. She could almost hear him advising, “Solving a case is like hiking in a national park. It’s important you keep your eyes on the trail so you don’t get lost, but if you focus only on the single path, you’ll miss the beauty of the park around you, and you may as well do your walking on a treadmill.” Ellie wanted to play this exercise by the book and follow the orders exactly as she was given them, but she refused to walk through this assignment looking only in the instructors’ direction.
Agent Peters drove her to the retreat center and they reviewed the plan once more. Ellie rolled her eyes at his overbearing reminders to call him for check-ins every evening—including that night.
“If you miss a check-in, it will be the same thing as activating your emergency call button.”
By the time they arrived, Ellie was ready to have a little peace and quiet. He pulled her suitcase out while talking, “This is as far as I can go. If you need backup, hit your button or give me a call. I’m staying north of town all weekend so I can make it to you fast. Don’t be embarrassed about needing to be extracted early. You aren’t used to this kind of work, and it may be harder than you think.”
Ellie bit her tongue, not wanting to lash out at his condescension. “When I’m done on Sunday, I’ll have a cab take me to the airport, and I’ll call you once I’m home,” she said flatly.
“If you need any advice or suggestions on how to handle the suspect, give me a call.” His tone said he was being sincere in wanting to help, but the way he was basically assuming she was clueless about what she was doing was making it hard for her to control her temper.
She decided to end this unnecessarily extended drop-off before she said something that would damage their working relationship. “I’ll talk to you tonight when we have our evening check-in.”
With that, she picked up her suitcase, squared her shoulders, and let out a long breath. Ellie wasn’t sure what danger she might be wa
lking into, but in the light of the tension she was walking away from, it seemed like the better of the two options.
Chapter Fourteen
“Welcome to Yoga for Life,” a kind-looking woman in her early fifties greeted Ellie when she walked into the conference center.
She knew the jetlag would hit her later, but after the nerves of being on assignment and the less-than-helpful briefing with Agent Peters, she was anxious to get started.
The kind woman—Lydia, according to her nametag—confirmed they had the room ready and that she’d been assigned to get Ellie settled in. She had packed according to the website requirements and left her laptop home, but the brand new satellite phone Phil had given Ellie for her check-ins without being traced needed to stay out of any nosey hands, and she had no intention of surrendering it.
Lydia took Ellie on a tour of the expansive facility, showing her where all the group classes took place, and pausing at the door so they could watch as a woman led an advanced class full of students in poses Ellie was convinced her body could never perform. If her ability to get information while she was here was based on being able to blend in with fanatics likes these, then the assignment was destined to fail.
The walls were beautifully painted with the palest shade of blue at the top that seemed to darken as it went to the baseboard at the bottom. When Ellie commented on how unusual it was, Lydia explained it was to remind people to let their worries sink down and their spirits lighten and rise. It was patterned after the ponds in the meditation gardens around the retreat.
In the central building where her tour began there was also a gym with a pool, classrooms outfitted with comfortable looking chairs and a library. If it weren’t for the fact that she thought a murderer was using the retreat center as a place to stalk his next victim, Ellie might have been impressed with the layout and the number of people currently staying there. Ironically, even though they touted the importance of a simple life, someone had probably put millions into making the center walk the line of looking modest, yet luxurious. The massage center and sauna were in line with what upscale spas back east would have and Ellie had been to nightclubs with bars smaller than what the juice area here was equipped with.
After Ellie had acted sufficiently excited about all the opportunities, Lydia took her to her room on the second floor. It was much like a standard hotel with ivory walls and sparse furniture, except there was no television or phone, and in front of the sliding glass door leading to the small balcony that overlooked a pond filled with koi and blooming flowers, there was a mat that one would assume was for private meditation or yoga.
Ellie set her single bag on the edge of the bed and realized Lydia was still watching her. Uncertain if she was waiting for a tip, which Ellie thought the brochure had strictly forbidden, she was about to reach into her purse, but Lydia stepped forward and moved the bag in order to unzip it.
“What are you doing?” Ellie didn’t want to be rude, but she was capable of unpacking herself and didn’t want the older woman to go through the entire bag. There was definitely some contraband that shouldn’t be discovered if her presence there was to go under the radar.
“I’m getting you settled,” Lydia explained. “It’s part of your introduction into the yoga life. First, I’ll get you comfortable, and in the process, I’ll make sure there are no outside distractions that might keep you from getting the full benefit of our program.”
“I left my laptop at home,” Ellie told her, hoping the woman would take her word for it and stop touching her clothes.
“Good, so I just need to find the cell phone you have no doubt hidden on you, and then we’ll be ready to begin.”
That might be a problem.
“Don’t look so surprised, dear,” Lydia admonished. “We are quite aware that young women don’t travel across the country alone without some sort of communication device. Now that you’re here, I’ll secure it so that you can have it when you leave and it won’t tempt you back into the trappings of your life while you are supposed to be ridding yourself of all the burdens of the outside world.”
Before Ellie could come up with a way to hide Phil’s phone in her purse, Lydia pulled out a clear plastic bag filled with small dark chocolate Hershey kisses. “Oh dear. I’m afraid I’ll have to take this, as well.”
“My chocolate?” Suddenly, Ellie was a little warmer to the idea of giving up her personal cell phone if it meant she could keep her kisses. She didn’t overindulge, but since she had no idea what the coffee was going to be like here, she needed some kind of pick-me-up, and letting one of the little candies melt in her mouth could get her through any rough spots over the weekend.
“Yes, chocolate has caffeine in it, which is why it is not allowed. While you’re here, you’ll be cleansing your body as well as your mind, which means many teas, soft drinks, chocolate, refined sugars, and coffee are all off limits. After you’ve gone a few days without any of these pollutants, you won’t even miss them,” Lydia attempted to convince her.
“No coffee, either?” Ellie knew she was dangerously close to whining like a little girl, but coffee had seen her through many things she didn’t think she would be able to handle, and the thought of being in the field without it was like asking her to walk into her office without any pants on.
One would think Ellie’s mild panic over losing her emergency survival provisions might irritate the older woman. However, the more Ellie questioned her, the happier she became. Satisfied with the rest of what she saw, Lydia took the offensive bag of snacks, along with a magazine Ellie had picked up at the airport, and her personal cell phone which she’d attempted to bury in her toiletry bag, and put them in a zip top container, which she promptly closed. “Now, let’s go over your schedule.”
“You have an hour to finish settling in here. If you are hungry, food is available in the main dining hall. At three o’clock, you have your first one-on-one session with the Master. He will schedule the rest of your time here based upon your time with him.”
“The Master?” Ellie asked, wondering if the Bureau should have sent someone with a background in cults instead of her.
Lydia shook her head and smiled the way a mother would at a child. “He doesn’t like the title – regularly tells us to call him by his name, but most of us who have served with him and taught under him use that as a way to honor him.”
“Is there anything I should know before I meet him?” Ellie prompted. “Anything that might help me to get more out of my time?”
The older woman paused and seemed to consider the question. “He does not tolerate people who are wasting his time. If he feels you are here for anything other than learning to live a true yoga life, he will dismiss you to a different instructor and move on. But if he sees something in you that calls to him, as well as a willingness to do as he teaches, then he will devote his time to you while you are here. It is a rare gift and one you would be truly fortunate to receive.”
“How often does he continue working with the people who have assessments with him?”
“He has a private session scheduled every two or three days, but he probably only gives his undivided attention to a student every month or two,” Lydia offered, not seeming to suspect anything from the questions Ellie was asking. “He evaluates each client before taking them on personally.
“Just be yourself,” Lydia suggested. “He appreciates sincerity and an eagerness to learn. Questions are never looked down upon, but an unwillingness to respond to his inquiries is. Open yourself to him, and he will fill you with a wisdom you will learn to desire.”
After glancing around once more Lydia announced, “I’ll return to help you settle in for the night after your private session.”
“Settle in?” Ellie was well past the age of needing to be tucked into bed. As luxurious as this retreat center was, she was here to work, not relax, so she needed to know if she wasn’t going to have much private time so she could plan her check-ins with Agent Peters.
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p; “I’m sure he will explain everything when you meet with him, but I am usually asked to help his students relax with some type of special treatment. Depending on how you are feeling and how things have gone between you two, we can discuss what services you might like.” Then, as if trying to assure Ellie there was nothing to worry about, Lydia added, “I’m a massage therapist and will help your body relax after your sessions. I also give excellent manicures and have a natural nail polish colored with plant extracts that would look lovely on your hands. I could bring it with me this evening and we can talk about how things went while I work.”
The eagerness to please from the woman in front of her made Ellie wonder if she had any idea someone from the retreat was killing off the women she had taken such good care of while they were here.
An hour later, Ellie had eaten something that resembled broth that tasted a bit like citrus with small blades of grass floating on top. When she asked the hostess in the cafeteria what it was she was told it was lemongrass soup. The information was accompanied by a glare Ellie assumed meant she didn’t appreciate the food being questioned. Lydia might have indicated the Master was open to questions, but apparently some of his staff didn’t share his enthusiasm for handing out knowledge.
The initial meeting was nothing like Ellie had pictured. The first hour was spent discussing various types of yoga, and explaining the purpose of the private sessions she had enrolled in. “I have traveled the world and studied under many enlightened teachers. And while I enjoy leading a group like you undoubtedly saw elsewhere here, nothing compares to introducing a person to yoga and watching their doubts melt into acceptance and appreciation. When I can find someone who is open to learning and growing, I believe it to be my purpose to guide them.”
After the initial instruction, the Master had her kneel on a pillow and continued to manipulate her body, attempting to get her in some kind of ideal position. There was something very calming about him, and despite the fact she was to assume everyone she came into contact with might be involved in the case, she had a strong feeling he was not the person they were looking for. This realization was a relief because it allowed her to relax enough to finally take a deep breath—something she hadn’t managed since she arrived.
A Killer Cup of Joe Page 17
