by Diane Kelly
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time for war, and a time for peace.
That verse covered just about every eventuality, didn’t it? Unfortunately, our time to seek was over, and we’d lost. We hadn’t found the dark-haired young woman in the blue knit cap, or the young man with the black eye.
Jackson exhaled sharply and glanced at her watch. “That was forty-seven minutes of our lives we’ll never get back.” She motioned for Summer and me to follow her. “The only thing left to do is talk to these folks.”
I whispered again. “I thought we weren’t supposed to mention the baby.”
“We won’t,” she whispered back. “Not directly, anyway.”
We went back into the church.
Jackson addressed the crowd from the pulpit. “Obviously, we didn’t find the girl here. Officer Spalding will dismiss you one by one. We’d like to speak with each of you individually. If there’s anything any of you know and would like to tell us, we will keep your identity secret. We won’t even ask your name. Okay?”
Emmanuel rose from his throne. A blue vein stood out on his neck. Good thing vampires didn’t really exist or they’d come straight for this guy and enjoy a feast.
Despite the throbbing artery, he managed to maintain his composure. “I mean no offense to you, Detective, but this is utter nonsense. My people are honest and law-abiding. If they know anything, they’d tell you, right here in front of everyone.” He paused for a millisecond before adding, “And God.”
“I’m certain they would,” the detective said. “But there are specific protocols we are required to follow, regardless of the circumstances.” With that, she stepped down from the pulpit and headed down the aisle. Summer, Brigit, and I headed after her.
Jackson addressed the man sitting on the aisle of the back row. “Please step outside with us, sir.” As he rose, she turned back to Summer. “Come stand at the door. When I raise my hand, you can call the next person out.”
The man walked out ahead of us, and Summer stopped at the door behind us, propping it open a few inches with her steel-toed shoe.
The man stopped at the bottom of the steps, but Jackson continued past him, motioning for him to follow us to a spot under a tree thirty yards away. “If you have seen the girl,” Jackson said, “even outside the refuge, please tell us.”
“I haven’t seen her,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“All right,” she said. “Thank you, sir. You are free to go.”
With a nod, he headed off toward the barns.
Jackson lifted her hand and made a “come-here” gesture with her index finger. Summer opened the church door a little wider, and waved the next person in the pew outside. A middle-aged, auburn-haired woman ventured forth tentatively, walking as if she wasn’t sure her feet were worthy of touching the earth. Funny, because as meek as she was, she’d inherit it one day.
Jackson asked her the same question. “Have you seen the girl?”
“No.” The woman shook her head, her reddish locks swinging about her face. “I don’t know anything about her. I do hope she finds her way home, though. The world can be a scary place when you’re all alone.”
She seemed to be speaking from experience, but most of all, she was speaking. Maybe she’d tell us something we could use.
Jackson seemed to have had the same thought as I. “Indeed it can,” she agreed. She eyed the woman closely, lowering her voice. “Is there anything else that you’d like to talk about? Anything that’s caused you concern?”
“Like what?” the woman asked.
Jackson shrugged. “Anything at all.”
The woman didn’t bite. “No, ma’am. There’s nothing else.”
“Okay, then. You have a good day.”
We continued on, running through the same routine with person after person. Nobody seemed to want to tell us anything. Did that mean they had nothing to tell us, that they were in the dark? Or did that mean they were all in cahoots, keeping a dark secret? We had no way of knowing for sure, but my gut told me these people were being sincere.
The church door opened and one of the few remaining members stepped out, a petite woman in her forties. She had dark, silky hair, similar to the baby’s, with a few gray hairs sneaking into the mix. She resembled the young woman I’d seen in the garden. Could she be the baby’s grandmother?
Detective Jackson asked her the same questions she’d asked the others before her. “Do you know anything about the missing girl?”
“No,” the woman said. “I haven’t seen or heard anything about her.”
“Is there anything you would like to talk about while we’re here?” Jackson asked. “If there’s anything we can do to help you or your fellow church members, we’d be happy to help.”
The woman shook her head.
Before Jackson could dismiss her, I spoke up. “Do you have children or grandchildren, ma’am?”
The woman cut me a wary look. “Why do you ask?”
Jackson sent me a warning with her eyes. Be careful, Megan.
I chose my words cautiously. “It’s just that the mother and grandmother of the missing girl are heartbroken. I thought if you had children of your own, you might understand how it would feel to lose a child or grandchild. Maybe we could count on you to let us know if the girl shows up here later on.”
The woman looked into my eyes with a heavy gaze. My mind willed her to tell me whether she knew the pain of losing a grandchild, one that had been taken from their family. If this woman raised the subject, the magistrate couldn’t fault us for crossing the line, right?
Unfortunately, she revealed nothing, saying only, “If the girl comes here, surely Father Emmanuel will let you know.”
Jackson and I exchanged a look. Neither of us was sure of anything where the group’s leader was concerned.
The woman looked from me to the detective. “Am I free to go now?”
“Yes,” Jackson said. “Thanks for your time.”
Jebediah was the second-to-last congregant to exit the church and step over to speak with us. “How can I help you?”
“Still looking for the missing girl,” Jackson said.
He shook his head sympathetically. “Her parents must be beside themselves.” His demeanor today seemed very different than it had when we’d come by before. Then he’d been guarded. Today he seemed open. Ironically, I trusted him more when he seemed to trust us less.
“You know anything?” Jackson asked.
“About the girl?” he replied.
She cocked her head. “Something else you know about?”
Pink blotches blossomed on his cheeks. “No.” He rubbed his nose with a finger. Between the blush and the reflexive attempt to hide behind his hand, it was obvious he was lying to us. Jackson didn’t let on, though.
“Okay,” she said. “If the girl shows up, please give us a call.”
“I sure will.”
Finally, Zeke emerged from the church and came down the steps. He walked over and stopped in front of us, saying nothing.
“Hello, Zeke,” Jackson said.
His eyes narrowed on either side of his snub nose. “How do you know my name?”
Jackson didn’t flat-out lie to the man, but she did mislead him. “The church’s attorney spoke with Officer Luz.” She gestured to me. “He admitted what we already knew about the baby. That you left it at the fire station.”
His pupils flashed in alarm now and he turned instinctively to look back at the church, where Father Emmanuel sat inside and out of sight, waiting his turn to be called.
She raised a palm to calm him. “Please don’t worry,” she said. “You’ve done nothing illegal and we haven’t told
anyone else that you surrendered the child.”
He said nothing, his expression still wary.
“We’ve come here only to find out who the baby’s mother is,” Jackson told him. “The foster parents want to adopt her, but the rights of the biological parents have to be terminated first. Since you are the one who surrendered the baby, there will be no issues where you’re concerned. But we need to find the mother so she can sign the paperwork to relinquish her parental rights, release the baby for adoption.”
Zeke opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and glanced back at the church again, as if unsure how to proceed. Finally, he said, “The baby’s mother left the refuge. She didn’t want the baby and I wouldn’t have been able to raise it on my own.”
The baby is a she, I thought. Not an it.
Jackson said, “It’s perfectly understandable why you’d surrender a baby under those circumstances. We just need to know the mother’s name and how to get in touch with her so we can get the documentation taken care of.”
“You promise you aren’t going to tell anyone?” he asked. “I’ve told everyone that Eve left with the baby. I don’t want them to know I gave it up myself.”
“We won’t tell a soul,” Jackson said.
When he looked my way, I nodded in agreement.
“So the mother’s name is Eve?” the detective asked.
“Yes,” he said. “At least that was her chosen name. Most of us picked new names when we arrived here, to symbolize that we were starting a new life. I don’t even know what Eve’s name was before.”
Jackson’s expression turned sour. “Just Eve? That’s all you can tell me? No last name?”
“No. Not even Father Emmanuel has that information. I don’t know where Eve came from, or anything about her family. But our lawyer told us that it wouldn’t be a problem, that when a parent can’t be located the government can post notifications about the custody proceedings in the newspaper and that’s enough for things to move ahead.”
“That’s true,” Jackson acknowledged. “If the mother can’t be found it will have to be done that way. But it takes a lot longer. There’s a waiting period. The couple is anxious to get the adoption finalized, to know that the baby is officially theirs. I’m sure you can understand.”
“I get what you’re saying,” he said, “but I’ve told you everything I know. There’s no way to track the mother down. I have no idea where she came from or where she might have gone. She said she came here to forget the past and get a fresh start. She never talked about the life she had before joining us here.”
The needle on my bullshit meter was at one hundred percent. This story seemed so cut-and-dried, too neat and tidy to be true. Family-law matters were never so clean-cut. They were dirty and messy and ugly and complicated.
“I guess that’s that, then,” Jackson said. “Thanks for clearing things up. We’ll move ahead without the mother’s signature.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
Wait. What? The detective was going to let this liar go without confronting him? I knew she must have a strategy, but what was it? The young man and woman could be in danger. We couldn’t leave here without getting answers, could we? I doubted Zeke was the baby’s actual biological father. The baby was cute and dark-haired, while Zeke was unattractive and blond. And there was no way on God’s green earth that this so-called Eve was the baby’s mother. We’d come here to get answers, and I wasn’t leaving without getting at least one.
Before he could take a step, I blurted, “That birthmark sure was cute.”
He turned around.
“The heart-shaped one,” I said. “On your baby’s behind. I was the officer who responded when the guys at the fire station called to report the surrender. I saw the birthmark when I changed her diaper.”
Zeke stared at me a moment before saying only, “I hope she’ll have a happy life.” With that, he turned and walked away.
THIRTY-SIX
ALPHA AND OMEGA
Brigit
As they left the compound, Brigit bade her new friends good-bye. Most of them were beta dogs, happy to follow the alpha, who was even bigger and furrier than Brigit. One of the dogs was an omega. When she’d gone to sniff his rear earlier, he’d rolled over onto his back in total submission. He did the same thing now, when she passed him to go out the gate. Have a little pride, would you?
As promised, Megan drove by the place where Brigit had smelled the burgers earlier and bought her one. Brigit hadn’t done anything to earn it. She hadn’t trailed, or scented for drugs, or chased anyone down. These bonus treats, doled out for no reason at all, told Brigit she was loved. She returned the sentiment by licking the grease from Megan’s fingers when Megan held her hands out after tearing the burger into bites. They took care of each other, her and Megan. That’s the way a pack operated, and she and Megan made the best pack ever.
THIRTY-SEVEN
MARK OF THE BEAST
The Father
It was full dark when Father Emmanuel, Jeb, and Zeke approached the silo. Jeb had locked Juliette and Luke in the silo earlier, and managed to climb back over the wall and stash the ladder just in time to avoid being seen by the cops. They’d wasted no time getting that warrant. Maybe calling the attorney had been a mistake, made the cops more suspicious and determined to get into the refuge. Despite the lawyer’s assurance that he’d scared off the police officer, Father Emmanuel thought the guy might have overestimated his ability to intimidate the cop. After all, she was a K-9 handler. It had to take some balls to work side by side with a beast who could rip your throat out. Of course Emmanuel had been proven right. The cop hadn’t been scared away. Fortunately, she and the detective seemed satisfied after speaking with Zeke. They’d bought the story hook, line, and sinker. The original Eve might have brought about mankind’s downfall, but the Eve he’d fabricated had saved their asses today.
Jebediah unlocked the silo. Juliette and Luke leaned against the opposite walls, their mouths, hands, and feet bound by duct tape. They blinked against the harsh glare of the lantern.
Emmanuel looked from Luke to Juliette. “Does your baby have a heart-shaped birthmark on her bottom?”
Juliette’s brow quirked, but then her eyes seemed to brighten. Must be the flickering of the lantern. She nodded, unable to respond verbally with the tape still across her mouth.
Father Emmanuel turned from her back to Luke. “You understand this was for your own good, don’t you? You two have dishonored yourselves and your Lord and Savior with your lust. The rest of us must save you from yourselves. We only want what’s best for you.”
As his gaze went between them, the two nodded slowly, Juliette closing her eyes as she did so.
“All right, then,” Emmanuel said. “You may rejoin the flock.”
Jeb yanked the tape off their mouths and cut the strips to release their limbs.
When they were fully freed and had stood, Emmanuel said, “You must stay away from each other from now on, or next time the consequences will be much harsher. You will obey my word now, won’t you?”
It gave him no small sense of satisfaction to hear them both say, “Yes, Father.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
DIVINE INSPIRATION
Megan
As we’d driven back to the station, I’d asked Detective Jackson why she’d chosen not to confront Father Emmanuel about the girl in the blue hat and the guy with the black eye.
“Because my gut told me not to,” she said. “Given that they weren’t in the compound, he’s got them hidden somewhere we might never find them. Confronting him could be worse for them than if we wait it out, lie low, and do some clandestine surveillance, follow their vehicles.”
I knew Detective Jackson had years more experience than me and a better-honed gut, but my gut told me to keep trying. The only problem was, there seemed to be nothing left to do other than what Jackson had suggested. Lie low. Watch from afar. Follow their cars and see where they go. Ugh. Dete
ctive work certainly wasn’t for the impatient.
* * *
That evening, I swung by my parents’ place to pick up my mother and take her out for ice cream as promised. While she indulged in a huge scoop of mocha almond fudge, I opted for a fruity raspberry sorbet.
As we sat in the booth, enjoying our treats, she asked me how work was going.
I glanced around to make sure we couldn’t be overheard before filling her in on some of the more recent details of the cult case. “I’m so frustrated,” I told her, “but I can’t figure out what else to do.”
“I have faith in you,” my mother said. “You’ll figure something out.”
She might believe in me, but I didn’t believe in myself at the moment. Still, there was so much at stake that I couldn’t give up. I supposed I could only hope that God might give me an answer.
When I dropped my mother back at the house, she gave me a tight hug through the car window. “I’m not sure I say it enough, but I’m really proud of you, Megan. You’ve turned out to be a smart, determined, and caring woman. I’d like to take credit for all of that, but I was so busy with your brothers and sister that you basically raised yourself.”
What she said was true. Even so, she’d set a good example for me. Not with her cooking or organizational skills, but she’d always been compassionate and hard-working, if a little scatterbrained.
“You were a good mom,” I told her. “Still are.”
She gave me a soft smile and patted my arm before standing. “Keep the faith, Megan.”
I fought a sigh. “I’ll do my best.”
* * *
Saturday afternoon, Seth and I planned to go to a classic car show at Texas Motor Speedway, which sat a few miles north of Fort Worth. He knocked on the door at a few minutes before one, his arrival foretold by Brigit via a series of happy barks. I grabbed my purse, gave Brigit a kiss on the snout, and told her to “Be a good girl while I’m gone. Okay?”
I opened the door to find Seth standing on the porch. His Nova sat at the curb. In the front passenger seat sat Ollie. Looked like he’d decided to come with us.
