Chosen (Second Sight)

by Hunter, Hazel

  Trying not to think of what might have been on the tissue, she wiped her nose and tossed it into the bin.

  “Allergies,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said, frowning a little. “Not bad, I hope?”

  “No, no,” she stammered, blood pounding in her ears. Had he seen her take the photo? “Just once or twice a year. It’s really not bad.”

  Geoffrey smiled broadly.

  “Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “Excellent.” He indicated the door behind her. “Shall we?”

  • • • • •

  Cyber Division had to be a geek’s dream come true. Mac walked into the darkened lab, following Scanlon, who held the door for him.

  “You’d better be right about this, MacMillan,” Scanlon said under his breath.

  Although every law enforcement agency had its turf issues, both external and internal, it turned out that Mac had managed to step directly onto a land mine his first day. Scanlon had been less than pleased to be working with Cyber Division. Apparently Assistant Director Cassandra Martinez, who headed it up, felt the same about Scanlon.

  Every other agent in the room was seated at a computer but Martinez stood. She wore a dark business suit, knee length skirt, white blouse, and dark heels. In her fifties, like Scanlon, and trim, her short, brown hair was not yet gray. At least Mac couldn’t see any in this lightning. What Mac could see was her body language–arms crossed over chest, torso turned at an angle.

  She was watching them.

  “Director Martinez?” Mac asked, extending his hand. “I’m Special Agent MacMillan.”

  She smiled politely if cooly and shook hands. He didn’t bother to introduce Scanlon.

  “Director,” she said, nodding at Scanlon as she looked away.

  “Director,” he said, the word a near echo of hers.

  “Green Earth Commune,” she said to Mac. “What’s your interest there?”

  “I’ve come across some data that suggests it’s a cult,” Mac said. “A cult of personality. I couldn’t say anything more specific until I’ve had a chance to do some interviews but it seems the man who is the head of it has fathered possibly dozens of children who reside there.”

  At that, a couple of the agents seated at monitors looked over.

  “And how have you come across that information?”

  “Kayla Massen,” Mac said. “One of the members. She’s pregnant but not by the leader and wants to leave. I think she might be our way in. Her mother made contact with her.”

  Mac left out the part that involved Isabelle.

  His gut wrenched a bit at the thought of her. The look on her face when he’d said he wanted to move in–he couldn’t get it out of his head. He should have just stopped at the transfer. She’d seemed genuinely happy to hear about that.

  Was it just the psychic ability that worried her? Or did it have to do with him?

  He’d lain awake asking himself those two questions over and over without any answers.

  Then again, maybe the answers didn’t matter.

  He’d already made his choice clear. Now it was up to her.

  Martinez nodded at him and Mac was jolted back to the present.

  “They’re already on our radar,” she said. She turned to the closest agent. “Tim, pull up Green Earth’s file.”

  As she, Scanlon, and Mac gathered behind Tim, a young agent who looked in his early twenties, the file and FBI logo popped up on the screen.

  “Suspected of fraud in 2006 but the investigation turned up nothing,” Tim read. “Geoffrey Girod is the man on the web site. Visitors to it are mostly young women, single. Donations of all types are accepted by the non-profit. Whole bank accounts are transferred. Some estates. Vehicles. Most of it’s sold and the cash goes into the commune.” Tim scrolled down. “The books say they operate at a loss.” He leaned forward and scrutinized the screen. “Yeah, right,” he muttered. “Not with the kind of digital fortress they’ve got.”

  “Digital fortress?” Mac asked.

  “Someone there has some computer savvy,” Tim said. “They have their own internet servers.”

  “They’re their own ISP,” Martinez explained. “We can’t get to their email, what’s behind their web site, nothing. They’ve taken great pains to hide their finances. We haven’t been able to link them to onshore accounts let alone offshore ones.” Martinez turned to Mac. “But my instincts say they’re there. Nobody does this without a reason. I think it’s the tip of an iceberg. The cult spin?” She shrugged, arms still crossed. “That hardly comes as a surprise.”

  “I think I can get in there,” Mac said. “But I’m going to need some help.”

  “Ya think?” Tim said under his breath.

  “Fake identity,” said Scanlon, either not hearing Tim or ignoring him.

  “When?” Martinez asked Mac, ignoring Scanlon.

  “Today,” Scanlon said.

  Tim turned to look at him, an incredulous look on his face.

  “Impossible,” he said. “It takes at least–”

  “I have a window,” Mac said. “And it’s closing as we speak.”

  “Yeah,” Tim said. “Well that doesn’t change the fact that–”

  “We’ll handle it,” Martinez said, cutting Tim off. He began to turn to her but she took the back of his chair and turned him to face the screen. “It’ll be done by midnight.”

  Though Mac wasn’t quite sure what was going on in this turf war, it’d just worked to his advantage.

  “Fine,” Scanlon said, as he turned to leave.

  “Fine,” Martinez said, as she did the same.

  “Great,” Tim muttered at the screen but Mac was the only one who heard.

  • • • • •

  As soon as Susan’s doorbell rang, Isabelle raced to answer it.

  “He’s here,” she called out. “I’ll get it.”

  Mac was just taking off the aviator sunglasses when she snatched up his hand and tugged him inside. She hadn’t tried to explain in her text.

  “Kayla is missing,” she said, closing the door.

  Quickly, she led him past the sunken living room, through a small family room, and up a half-flight of stairs into the kitchen. Susan was standing behind the tile counter, next to the sink, a cell phone clutched in her hand. Her eyes were puffy and red from the crying.

  “Susan called the police and filed a missing person report but they said they don’t have the manpower to pursue it and that most missing adults return in forty-eight hours.”

  “Missing,” Mac said, stowing the sunglasses in the chest pocket of his jacket. “All right,” he said as Isabelle watched him switch gears. “Tell me about what happened at the commune.”

  Isabelle could have hugged him–for more than one reason.

  The way they’d left things had bothered her all day. They needed to talk. She knew they did–and she wanted to–but not now.

  She recounted everything, as fast as she could. She’d had to tour the entire place this time, complete with viewing the promotional DVD. It’d taken her all afternoon to finally get away.

  “Kayla wouldn’t just leave,” Susan said, sniffing. “Even when she moved there, she said goodbye. It’s just not like her.”

  Mac checked Isabelle and she nodded in agreement. It wasn’t like Kayla, at least not the Kayla she knew.

  “Fine,” Mac said. “Let’s assume she didn’t leave or she left but not of her own free will. In either case, we’re going to have a hard time getting a search warrant. The Green Earth Commune is clean from the law enforcement side. I looked into them today.”

  “You did?” Susan asked.

  Mac nodded and Isabelle couldn’t help but smile. He was Special Agent MacMillan, on the case, and it reminded her of when they’d worked together.

  “But the news is as I suspected. On paper, it’s a non-profit that’s getting along well in the community. There’s no evidence of wrong-doing and only one inquiry has been filed by,” he said, inclining his head at Susan
, “parents trying to communicate with their daughter.” He shook his head. “But it’s not a crime to father dozens of children.”

  “It’s disgusting,” Susan said, her face contorting but no longer panicked. “But, if it’s not illegal and everything looks fine, how can we find Kayla?”

  “We have to look for her,” Mac said, as though it were obvious. “Ourselves.”

  “Can you do that?” Susan asked, her voice tinged with the tiniest amount of hope.

  “I’ve already started,” Mac said.

  “You have?” Isabelle and Susan said together.

  “Based on what Isabelle described yesterday, I was already convinced it was a cult. In and of itself, that’s not necessarily bad but when misplaced adoration for a particular person is at work it almost always leads to abuse. Geoffrey sounds like a textbook example. Where abuse of one type is taking place, he’ll be taking advantage in other ways as well. You say the members adopt a minimalist lifestyle once they’re there. Leave their worldly belongings.” Isabelle nodded. “According to the Bureau, the commune receives donations of every type. That’s likely from the members. Even so, from what you describe, it’s an extensive operation. It takes money to do something like that. A lot of money. Much more than can be accounted for with donations.”

  “So we look for her ourselves,” Isabelle said. “How?”

  “We join,” Mac said.

  Isabelle stared at him.

  “How do you know they’ll take you?” Susan asked. “Won’t they find out you’re an FBI agent?”

  “The Cyber Division is setting up a fake identity for me. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, the whole works, including a bank account. The Green Earth Commune recruits online and it turns out that I’ve already downloaded all the brochures and videos after signing up for their mailing list. The Cyber Division was ready to go. All I had to do was give them an excuse.”

  “When will you go?” Susan asked, giving them both a questioning gaze.

  “First thing tomorrow,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Until they knew what it meant, Mac had to agree it was probably best to keep the broken frame and photo from Susan. Isabelle had revealed it on the way home. There was no point in upsetting Susan further but finding it in the trash was not a good sign.

  Mac sat at the dining room table and took a good look at the picture, though he didn’t touch it. Daniel had been handsome. Even in the black and white photo, his sandy hair and light eyes stood out. As Mac studied it, he realized he was looking for some resemblance to himself. But there wasn’t any–not that he could see.

  Isabelle took a seat in front of the frame and removed one of her gloves. Her normally full lips were drawn into a thin line. As though it were better to have it over sooner rather than later, she quickly inhaled, extended an index finger and touched the frame.

  Mac watched as the beautiful, amber eyes unfocused, the pupils dilated, and Isabelle stared blankly into space. Her lips parted ever so slightly and her chest rose and fell faster as she breathed through her mouth. As he watched, Mac realized he’d never been able to observe her so closely. Though it’d only been several seconds, he found himself wanting her to blink. Her eyes had been open for too long.

  The broken glass of the frame began to rattle. Just as he looked down, it collapsed backward under the pressure of her touch. The reading was over and Isabelle took her hand back, clutching it to her chest.

  “Mac?” she breathed, looking past him.

  He waved a hand in front of her face which didn’t faze her.

  “Right here,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes turned directly toward him and finally she blinked.

  “Kayla didn’t throw it away,” she said, still breathing a little hard.

  “Who did?”

  “Some man I didn’t recognize,” she said. “He only held it briefly.”

  “Did you see how or why Kayla left?”

  Isabelle’s unseeing gaze shifted down and away as though she were watching something on the floor. She shook her head.

  “No,” she said quietly, her eyes moving back in his direction. “For all I know, Kayla simply left it there and someone found it and threw it away.” Isabelle blinked several times and actually focused on the frame, finally seeing again. “But I just don’t think she’d do that. When I read her, there was real grief there. She missed Daniel terribly. He was the father of her child, after all.”

  “I agree,” he said, as Isabelle put her glove back on. “But not because I know her. In general, people are not inclined to throw away photos. In fact, they almost never do.”

  “Really?” she said, standing the frame up again and the photo upright in front of it.

  “It’s one of the reasons businesses will pay extra money for a photo business card,” he said.

  She stared hard at the image and Mac watched her eyes dart between Kayla and Daniel as a little frown tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  We need to talk, Mac thought. And not about Kayla and Daniel.

  “So she didn’t leave it,” Isabelle said. “And she didn’t throw it away. But then, why was it there? Where is Kayla?”

  “She’s probably still at the commune,” Mac said.

  Isabelle finally looked at him.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  As always, Isabelle’s physical nearness had its effect. He might have looked into those eyes forever. Or taken her in his arms and kissed her. Or held her close and tried to understand what had happened when he’d talked about moving in.

  But she was waiting for an answer.

  “The simples scenario wins,” he said. “First, she’s in no condition to travel. Second, cults don’t survive by having their members leave. Third, this particular cult seems to be fond of children–and maybe not just Geoffrey’s.”

  “Saving the world, one child at a time,” she said lowly.

  “Not only that,” Mac said. “But based on the membership information the Bureau gathered, when men join, it’s usually with their wives or girlfriends and they’re either pregnant or get pregnant soon thereafter.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said.

  “Kayla is a prime example.”

  Isabelle paused for a second and glanced at the picture frame.

  “I guess she is,” she whispered.

  Based on the Bureau’s demographic, he and Isabelle needed to get their story straight. Though Mac had had enough of talking about the commune, they needed to be ready.

  “Are we hoping for a boy or a girl?” Mac said.

  Her eyes snapped back to his face.

  “Are we…” she said, searching his eyes.

  “Hoping for a boy or girl,” he said.

  “I don’t…know,” she whispered.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “We need to be prepared. They’ll expect us to–”

  “Oh,” she exhaled. “Oh okay. Right.”

  She nodded quickly, stared at the table, and her face began to turn red.

  Inwardly, Mac kicked himself.

  A little explanation would have been nice.

  Last night, he’d sprung the transfer on her and then moving in. Now, without warning, it must have seemed as though he’d started ‘the pregnancy discussion.’

  Good work.

  He reached across the table and took Isabelle’s hand in his. She refused to look up but her hand squeezed his–hard. Several moments went by. For once, he wished he had her gift. Sometimes Isabelle was an open book–so easy to read it almost hurt. Other times, times like these, he had no idea what was going on in her head. He hadn’t meant to start talking about children but that was obviously what she’d thought. Even so, they did need to get their story straight.

  “A girl,” he said quietly, a little surprised at how easy it was to say. Then again, the choice was obvious. “She’d be adorable, just like her mother.”

  One corner of Isabelle’s mouth crooked up into a little smile but she didn’t look up
and her face seemed to flush another shade darker.

  Though he’d intended to segue into a discussion of what they’d say tomorrow, the moment had taken on a completely different quality. They weren’t ready for kids. They didn’t even live together. But now, whether he’d meant it or not, the possibility of being pregnant hung in the air between them.

  In his life, he’d never seriously considered it.

  Had Isabelle?

  He wanted to see her face. Slowly, still holding her hand, he stood and drew her up as well. Her eyes were still downcast and, gently, he lifted her chin. Her eyes could barely meet his, looking one way and then another, as she bit her lower lip. Mac lightly smoothed his thumb over both her lips and the lower one popped free when she realized what she was doing. She tried to look down again but Mac wouldn’t let her.

  “Of course,” Mac said, waiting for her to look at him, “I’d spoil a little girl terribly. First, I’d get her a bib.” Isabelle stared at his mouth and seemed to be hanging on every word. He was straying into dangerous territory and yet he didn’t seem able to stop himself. “It’ll be one of those bibs that says ‘Future FBI Agent’ on it. In big yellow letters. Or pink,” he quickly corrected. At that, Isabelle smiled just a tiny bit and he found that he was grinning. He slid his arms around her and felt her hands on his waist. That felt good. “Or maybe a pink bib,” he said, pulling her closer. “With big yellow letters. Or black. Or…”

  He watched Isabelle’s nose crinkle as she quietly giggled.

  He didn’t have to imagine adorable.

  And yet somehow, Isabelle’s little girl gesture made him do exactly that. His mind flashed forward to a time when this might be more than just talk. But as Isabelle’s arms held him tighter and their bodies slowly connected, he focused on the beautiful curve of her smiling lips and then he gently touched them with his own.

  • • • • •

  Though Isabelle’s lips automatically clung to his, her mind was reeling.

  He’s not serious. Just the idea of a baby was completely overwhelming.