by Toby Neal
“You think it’s going to get that bad?”
“Agent Pillman came to my door. He’s the one that went after Lei a few years ago.”
“Ugh. He reminds me of Agent Smith in the Matrix movies.” Sophie could almost see Marcella’s shudder. “I’d drop off the map too if he were after me. Well, I assume you won’t be going to Fight Club?”
“Not for a while.” Sophie hated to say the words. “Security Solutions has a state of the art gym. I’ll be using that for now. But let’s meet for a run or something, and you have my private number.”
“And you have mine. Check in with me every day. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you’re in the closet in a fetal position and hunt you down.”
“You can try to find me.” Sophie gave a hollow laugh. “But I’m feeling better. I promise.”
It was a lie. The depression beat its black wings around the edges of her vision. She just hoped to stay ahead of it by disappearing, by exercising, by getting DAVID working.
And by finding out what happened to the mothers of Sandoval Jackson’s children.
Chapter Ten
Sitting in her new Security Solutions office with DAVID booting up on her laptop and a mug of strong Thai tea at her elbow, Sophie decided she’d done the right thing by choosing to take the job. She badly needed somewhere to be, things to do. Sitting alone in that ugly apartment was not a good thing.
Dunn blew in. “I thought we’d begin our case by building profiles of the missing cult mothers. Our client arrives in half an hour, to give us their names and as much background as she knows.”
“Good. That’s how we’d do it in the FBI,” Sophie said. The laptop’s screen was too small, so she’d hooked up to the monitor Security Solutions had provided.
“What’ve you got back there?” Dunn loomed over her desk. He smelled of something lemony and masculine, and the tiny hairs on her arms lifted in awareness.
She didn’t take her eyes off her screen. “Remarkian didn’t hire me for my skills in the field. I come with some extras.”
Dunn grinned. “I can make that happen for you, I guarantee it.”
“Inappropriate, Dunn.” Sophie slanted a glance at him. “As if I’d ever sleep with a partner. I can’t work with you if you keep up the sexual harassment.”
“Hey. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Dunn blinked his pretty eyes and shrugged his big shoulders. “Gotcha. Platonic and professional. That’s how you want it, that’s how it will be.”
“Good.” Sophie felt better for smacking him down. Dunn struck her as the “give an inch and he’ll take a mile” type. She turned the monitor so Dunn could see the data on the screen and the program’s process results cache box. It was time to share the program with him—he had to know how it worked if they were going to use it on cases. “This is DAVID. The reason I left the FBI. DAVID stands for Data Analysis Victim Information Database. It’s a data-mining program that can penetrate law enforcement information storage and sift through cases and aggregate results. It seeks information using keywords, and then uses a confidence ratio to assess results. I’ve entered everything I know about the Society of Light and the situation at the cult: the compound, the number of people there, the children, and the background of Jackson. I asked DAVID how likely it is that the children’s mothers were murdered. You can see the result here.”
Dunn leaned in close, squinting. “What am I looking at?”
“A sixty-two percent confidence ratio that the women were murdered. Which is very strong. These confidence ratios are seldom that high because they can only work off of known data that’s been inputted, and a lot of case information never makes it into the electronic databases.” Sophie swiveled the monitor back. “The other thing DAVID can do is retrieve data from confidential sites based on keywords. I’m going to have it sift for everything to do with the cult’s finances. I want to know where Jackson gets his money and if there’s any financial motive for the women’s deaths.”
Dunn straightened up and whistled low through his teeth. “You’re even better than I thought.”
“None of it would be admissible in court, though.” Sophie said as she stood. She straightened the same white button-down blouse and smoothed the loose-fitting black Lycra work pants she’d worn at the FBI. She’d brought gym clothes and her “disguise” outfit to change back into when she left Security Solutions for the day. “But we can use it to get evidence that can be.”
“That’s the thing about private contracting. We don’t have to worry about a court case unless it’s what the client wants or our investigation uncovers a bigger crime. Of course, if we find any evidence of murder, we’ll want to turn that over to Hilo PD. Follow me. Let’s go meet the client.”
Sophie unplugged her laptop and tucked it under her arm, walking to the conference room behind Dunn.
Too bad she couldn’t just sleep with him. A few orgasms would probably help her depression, help her get over the heartbreak of her breakup with Alika Wolcott, brutally injured in her last case and now relocated permanently back to Kauai. Yes, sleeping with Dunn would be a terrible idea. Really bad. But she could still admire how he looked from behind. Even if that made her a hypocrite…
As if detecting her thoughts, Dunn winked at her as he opened the conference door. “After you.”
Sophie preceded Dunn into a well-appointed room with a long, gleaming conference table and whiteboard on one wall. A bank of windows framed the Honolulu skyline on the other wall. Two women sat at one end of the table—the washed-out, leathery blonde Sophie recognized as the client, and a striking Asian woman wearing a fitted sheath dress. Both stood to greet them as they entered.
“Sophie, meet Sharon Blumfield, the client whose interests we’re representing. And this is Dr. Helen Kinoshita.” Dunn made a little bow to the psychologist. “She’s the best in the shrink business.”
Dr. Kinoshita actually blushed. Sophie was relieved that she wasn’t the only woman working with Dunn that was susceptible to his charms.
“Pleased to meet you,” Sophie stepped forward and shook the client’s hand, smiling at Blumfield. “I am so glad we were able to get your children back to you. They look lovely. Are they doing all right?”
“They’re fine, thank you! Really, I can’t thank you enough.” Blumfield’s eyes filled. “My mother flew out and she’s with them at the hotel now.”
“They’re adjusting well,” Kinoshita said. “Considering they were woken up by two armed operatives.”
“That was the best possible extraction we could come up with,” Dunn said. They all sat around one end of the table as Sophie opened her laptop. “Something you may not know is that Ms. Ang recently joined us from the FBI. She’s very familiar with investigative techniques and has some unique tools to help us find answers regarding the women you are concerned are missing.”
“I do have some unique tools. But we always begin basic.” Sophie smiled at the women. “I’m going to type as we talk, and begin building a case file. Tell me the names of the missing women, and a brief physical description. Any details you can recall will be helpful.”
She built three separate files, one for each woman.
Mandy Jones, brunette, long brown hair, curvy build, glasses, age thirty-four, had three children, Odin, Freya, and Thor, with Jackson, and disappeared five years ago.
Jennifer Roberts, tall slim blonde, age thirty-five, had two children, Zeus and Hera, with Jackson, and disappeared four years ago.
Amy Fillmore: disappeared two years ago. Curvy redhead. Had three children, Horus, Isis, and Osiris, with Jackson.
“Interesting.” Dunn was taking notes on a yellow legal pad. “What’s the significance of the god names?”
“Jackson believes the children are reincarnated beings, and that giving them the names of gods captures some of the gods’ power.”
“Jackson doesn’t seem to have one certain physical type he’s attracted to,” Sophie observed.
“We’re chosen fo
r him by his Council of Elders.” Blumfield looked down, working a pleat of fabric between her fingers. “We were nominated. Interviewed by the Elders. Inspected physically to make sure we were healthy and fertile.”
“What criteria were used to determine…” Sophie groped for a word. “Eligibility?”
“Well, as I said, health and fertility were factors.” Blumfield drew a breath, blew it out. Kinoshita patted her arm encouragingly. “Our duty was to bring forth reincarnated Elders, which his children are believed to be. Are you familiar with the Society of Light’s beliefs?”
“Just a little. I reviewed the website,” Sophie said.
“Jackson calls it enhanced reincarnation. By performing deeds for the Society, further levels of advancement can be achieved. When you return in the next life it’s to be in a better body, in a better position to do the work of the Society.” Blumfield pulled a tissue from the box on the table and dabbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so deep in it. It wasn’t until I saw how the elders took over my children, how they were brainwashing them and using them for slave labor, basically—that I realized what a lie I’d swallowed—and had to keep on swallowing.”
“Do you think the children’s mothers might have been promised some advanced ‘reincarnation position’ in return for dying for the cause?” Sophie made air quotes with her fingers. “Was anything like that ever proposed to you?”
“It’s possible. But I never heard anything like that. I wasn’t Jackson’s favorite, though. He spent more time with all of the other women than he did with me. He visited me strictly to get me pregnant.” Blumfield’s face twisted with old pain. “Not that I minded. I wasn’t into him that way either, after the first time or two.”
“So with you gone, and these others gone—does he have a new woman?” Dunn asked.
“Two. Jessie Sparks is pregnant, and Petra Perkins is new. Not yet pregnant.”
Sophie felt revulsion rise up, an acid taste at the back of her throat. “Do you have any information on those two? And please tell us anything you can about the missing women. Anything about their families, where they came from—anything you can remember.”
Sophie steadily built the files as Blumfield responded to their questions and gentle prompting from Kinoshita. Finally, Blumfield seemed to hit a wall. “I think I’ve told you everything I can think of.”
Dunn fetched them all a tray of coffee and they took a break as Sophie finished typing up her notes.
“I have enough for us to try to find these women’s families, perhaps see what the custody situation would be for the children if we can get them out of the cult,” Sophie picked up her tea, gone cold—and Dunn pushed a fresh mug over to her, which she accepted gratefully.
“Sharon, I think we should start at the beginning,” Dunn said. “Help us understand how you were recruited to the cult in the first place. How it operates.”
Sophie shot Dunn a glance. His sensitivity was surprising, and their different styles complemented each other.
“Okay. I was in college, and didn’t have much direction—I come from a family with money, as you’re already aware.” Blumfield started her story in halting sentences, but as she got going, the words flowed more easily.
She’d been an aimless young woman attending UCLA and going to yoga classes on campus. Sandoval Jackson had come to town to do an advanced teaching seminar. Blumfield had attended and “fallen under his spell.”
“He was so much more than a yoga teacher. His very presence was both calming and energizing. He made me feel like I could do anything. Be anything. Like I had a special purpose, and I badly needed one.” She explained how her involvement with the Society was engineered in stages until she was living in the compound in Waipio, an idyllic setting that was presented on social media as the pinnacle of healthy, beautiful living out in nature. “It’s like the rules that guide the rest of the world are left at the door of the compound. Sandoval is…god there.” She shook her head. “I fought for the chance to be one of his consorts, as we were called. I was thrilled when I made it through all the examinations and evaluations to be his bedmate.”
“And…did you get pregnant right away?”
“I did.” She nodded. “The other consorts and I all got along. We took turns in his bed and waited on him at his yurt. We got to have the children at our breast until they were one year old, then they went to the children’s care run by women elders. But we got to be with them every day when we had free time.”
“So no one else in the cult had children?”
“No one else was allowed to.”
“That seems tough to enforce.” Dunn flipped a sleek metal pen that looked like it could double as an assassination device between his fingers.
“Only single people are allowed at the compound, and sex is allowed as part of certain rites—but life at Waipio is a spiritual path. If people wanted to pair up or have children, they had to leave and go to one of the lesser group living situations. Sandoval’s compound was considered the apex of the Society. A utopia of sorts.” Blumfield’s mouth twisted.
“But what makes you think foul play befell these women?” Sophie asked. “Perhaps they simply left and went to these other compounds.”
Blumfield shook her head. “I guess it’s possible, but they were very devoted to Jackson, and their children were at the compound.” She licked thin lips. “There’s a ritual called the rooska. It is a voluntary suicide to help the group in some way. I believe they were asked to rooska. Maybe they agreed to it, maybe they were forced.”
“What does rooska involve?” Sophie typed as she talked, capturing Blumfield’s words for later analysis by DAVID.
“Poison. With oleander. Accompanied by some opiates to make you sleepy.”
“So have you witnessed it?” Dunn asked.
“Yes.” Blumfield looked down, fiddled with the tulsi bead bracelet on one wrist. “One of the people who did taxes for the Society had taken money from the group. There was a ceremony where he renounced his wrong, and we were all sworn to secrecy—a blood vow—and he took the oleander and died. He was buried in the garden to enrich it.”
“Is there a certain burial area?” Dunn pushed his legal pad toward Blumfield. “Draw us where it is within the compound. Being able to search for the body would really help us.”
“Bodies are buried right in the garden. We all come from the earth, and return to the earth.” Blumfield’s eyes gleamed with a strange light for a moment.
“We will need to go over all of this and form a plan,” Sophie said. “I hope you’re prepared for it to take some time and expense.”
“I am. Jake has provided me with a preliminary contract. I’m pledging a portion of my trust fund to stop Jackson’s activities,” Blumfield said. “I want my children’s siblings to have a future beyond those walls—and for my sister consorts to have some justice.”
Chapter Eleven
Sophie’s burner phone buzzed with an incoming text as she headed back to her office. It was a texting phone with a flip-open case, and she read the message. “This is Connor. Still up for a hike-run day after tomorrow?”
She already badly needed some sort of physical outlet. “Wish I could go today,” she texted back, reaching her office and shutting the door. “But Dunn has me working hard on the cult case. We are investigating three missing consorts of the cult leader on behalf of our client.”
“Sounds more fun than what I’m doing. Quarterly shareholder reports. Just kill me now.”
Sophie smiled as she read. Connor had been left in charge of the growing security company by its departed CEO Sheldon Hamilton, and clearly some parts of the CEO job suited the breezy Australian better than others.
She plugged her laptop back in and was organizing her notes and files when Dunn reappeared from escorting the women to the elevator. “So. We gonna do some investigating today?”
“Yes. Let’s divide up some of the tasks. I want to run a deep background on Sandoval Jackson usi
ng DAVID. I no longer have official access to VICAP and the other FBI databases, but I can still get into them using DAVID and search keywords. I will also build a background as much as possible on these victims. But we can find their parents easily enough. Why don’t you do phone interviews with the parents, find out their attitudes about their daughters’ involvement with the cult, and what they know about the women’s whereabouts?”
Dunn gave her a level look out of those gray eyes. “You trying to give me orders?” He quirked a brow. “You know I’m in charge of this case, right?”
“Really?” The back of Sophie’s neck got hot. “You can’t have a simple talk about who’s doing what without throwing your weight around?”
Dunn lifted his hands. “Hey. We’re new at working together. I just thought I’d remind you of the lay of the land. And it so happens I agree with your plan. What I don’t like is this separate office deal. If I could make these phone calls in here, you could listen to them and I wouldn’t have to recap everything I just said.”
“And if you think I can do highly complicated computer inputting and calculations with you talking in the background, putting your feet on my desk and thinking I’m hanging on your every word, you’re unfamiliar with tech work. I need cool. Quiet. Dim light. No ambient noise but my music.” Sophie lowered the shiny metal blind to shut out the bright Honolulu day. She rotated the blind and the room plunged into twilight. “So no. I don’t think sharing an office would work.”
Dunn stood up, offense in every line of his big body. “Sorry to cramp your style.” He took three long strides and was out the door, shutting it hard enough to rattle the blinds.
Sophie blew out a breath. Clearly neither of them was used to having a partner. At least they’d worked well together on the raid and the interview.
She checked the thermostat on the wall and turned it down to sixty, then took her headphones out of her bag and plugged them in. She put on a padded Bose headset, settled back in her chair, and sank into the oblivion of being wired in.
