by Jan Coffey
“Look, Ken,” Ash interrupted, pointing at a section of the lake coming into view. “Maybe we should stop here and take some pictures.”
“Not on my time,” Ian said shortly. He turned his attention back to Bill, who suddenly appeared amused at the way they were getting along. “So the Sharpe family owned the inn before Kelly’s parents bought it?”
“Josh Sharpe converted it, renovated it, and got it going.”
“That right?”
Bill nodded. “I used to work for him. Janice and me both. We ran the inn for him.”
Ian wasn’t sure if Kelly knew this or not. “Why did he sell?”
The old man shrugged. “I think it was too much of a headache for him. He had no interest in running it. So he put the place up for sale, and it sold. Just like that.”
Ian saw Ken pull his camera from one of the bags and start taking pictures of Ash’s profile as the car rolled down the road.
“What’s with all the astrology stuff?” Ian asked. The camera stopped clicking for a moment. “How come all the rooms have plaques and zodiac names?”
“We’re staying in the Sagittarius room. That’s the zodiac sign for my birthday,” Ash put in, leaning forward again. Obviously, she’d forgotten that he’d hurt her feelings before.
“Half human, half beast…but watch out for the arrows,” Ian replied.
“I’d definitely watch out for the arrows, if I were you,” she said, sitting back and crossing her arms.
Ian turned to Bill again. “So what about the astrology stuff?”
The old man let out a long breath. “Well, it all started with Mrs. Sharpe, Joshua’s mother. She was into those things big-time, and years ago—when the Inn was only being used as a summer home—she even had a planetarium and a calculation room here.” He kept both hands on the wheel, going around a bend. “My Janice picked up where the old woman left off. She can really get into it deep, if you talk to her…well, if she likes you.”
“She knows her stuff,” Burke asserted. “You tell her your birthday, exactly when and where you were born, and she can lay out your whole life story.”
This was the last thing Ian needed right now, someone laying out his life story.
Bill turned onto another gravel road, which brought them almost immediately to an unpaved parking lot. There were only a couple of cars there.
Ian’s gaze lifted from the lot to the cabins. A white-haired woman was stepping out of the cabin nearest them, and Ian tried to recollect everything he knew about Lauren Wells. He’d asked Kelly if she had a picture. She’d thought she might have an old one, but she couldn’t put her hand on it this morning.
“So, Bill, you’re going to get someone to give us a fifty-cent tour of this place?” Ken asked, getting his equipment out of the car.
Ian didn’t hear the answer. His attention was solely focused on the rows and rows of benches around the front of a covered stage. From the rafters, a rolled-up banner of some kind had been hung.
His blood ran cold, when he saw a large baptismal font beneath the banner.
~~~~
“I told Rita to let everyone know at breakfast…I’m serving dinner only until eight o’clock tonight,” Wilson told Kelly. They were standing in the back hallway, and he was blocking her path to the stairs. “The kitchen is shutting down completely at nine.”
“That’s perfectly all right,” Kelly told the cook, trying to keep a wiggly Jade under one arm and keep her laptop tucked under the other.
“You need a hand?”
“No thanks, I’m fine. I’ve got to get her upstairs, or this sand is going to be everywhere.”
Jade had sand in her ears, in her nose, and in her hair. The moment she got to her apartment, Kelly stripped her daughter’s clothes off and put her right in the shower.
As she sat in the bathroom, Kelly opened her laptop. She wanted to dig out Lauren’s address and a picture. She knew she had them in a file she’d saved. But Ian’s question about how the two of them were connected had thrown her for a loop.
Kelly’s memories of her childhood—of her first twelve years of life—were dreamlike and surreal. What she recalled most was the frequent moving from place to place with a group of people who never seemed to have private houses or backyards or swing sets for their children. There were no fathers who went to work or mothers who walked you to a school bus stop. When she was very young, school consisted of tutoring in small groups with kids who were constantly coming and going. There were no real brothers or sisters.
When she got older and had to go to the public schools, she was so different. For her, there were no soccer games or swimming lessons. No vacations. No having your own clothes or shoes. No having anything to say about what you wore. Nothing that made her feel like the other girls that she watched enviously in the halls at school. Or read about in books. Or heard the new kids at the camp talk about.
If Kelly ever had a life outside of the Butler Mission, she had no recollection of it. Her earliest memory was a time when she must have been around three years old and sick with a sore throat and fever. At the time, the group was living in a cluster of ranch buildings in a desolate place near a big city. They moved her from her bunkroom with the other kids to a special room where other sick children were kept. She still remembered waking up in the middle of the night and hearing someone sitting next to her on the bed. The woman was young and pretty and had big green eyes the same shade as her own.
Jill Frost was her mother, and she stayed by her daughter’s bed all that night. For the days that followed, Kelly had been allowed to follow her mother around. As soon as the sore throat and fever were gone, the two were separated again. Kelly went back to the children’s cabin, and Jill to the part of the ranch where the women lived and worked.
Kelly had tried everything to be closer to her mother. Tears and temper tantrums had no effect, and even a recurring illness did not bring the mother back to the child’s side. She could see Jill in distance, sometimes, and even talk to her briefly in passing. But that was the extent of their mother-and-daughter relationship.
As the years passed, Kelly and other children were taught the reasons why they lived as she did, so different from the rest of the world.
They were told over and over again that they were the Chosen Ones. It was their mission to serve and help others. They were traveling the same path as the Lord. They were not separate families, but all one family. That was why there had to be sacrifices, selflessness, poverty, frequent moves. They had to work hard, study hard, pray hard. It was their duty to spread the wisdom of their leader, Father Mike, to the other children who joined their group. It was the responsibility of those like Kelly to mentor the young, to teach the newly arrived, and to report any disobedience. They were His flock, and it was their calling to live and do as Father Mike instructed them.
Even at a young age, Kelly realized it had not been her choice to live here, so she rebelled. More often than not, she dreamed of someone arriving at the Mission, looking for her, wanting to take her out. Her real father, perhaps, or her grandparents. From the time she could read, she became fascinated with phone books. They were a protected item, a precious commodity that was kept under lock and key at the office of the Mission. She knew they had people’s names and addresses and phone numbers in there. People with the same name as hers. Perhaps they were related to her. If she called them, perhaps they’d come for her.
She stole the phone book a few times over the years, but she was always caught. She never called anyone. No one ever came for her.
Sometimes, very rarely, someone would leave the Mission. But when that happened, there were always tears and hard feelings. After they were gone, Father Mike would gather everyone together and pray and weep and storm about in fury, in the end calling down His wrath upon their vicious enemies. Those who left were damned forever, and anyone who tried to communicate with the deserters would suffer the pain of eternity in an everlasting lake of fire.
Kelly obey
ed what he said because when he said those words, he was always looking into her eyes…into her terrified soul.
Michael Butler was not a violent man. He never raised his hand to her or to any of the other children, as far as she knew. But there was something about the way he looked at her, as if he was seeing someone else inside of her. It was freaky. When it was just the two of them, he talked to this other person and Kelly would stand frozen to the ground. She could still think, argue against what she was being told, but it would all be futile once she was called before him. By the time he was done with her, she felt nothing but the Father’s will.
This had been the way when they’d all gone through the rehearsals in the weeks leading up to that last night. To those at the Mission, the Khumba Luxor would be the great moment. The alignment of the planets would open the way to heaven. The saints were holding open the door for them to ascend through. It was a celebration of the highest moment on earth for the Chosen Ones. It was the Rapture.
To Kelly, however, it was the end. Still, she had no will—no strength—to fight the Father, nor any means to run away from it.
Kelly looked at Jade. The little girl was contentedly lining up a half dozen of her toy people against the shower wall. She was talking softly to them, perfectly happy with the warm water washing down on her.
And then Lauren Wells had saved her. In taking her out of the camp that final night, Lauren had given Kelly back her life.
Five of them had left the Mission that night. Only four had survived the escape. Kelly didn’t think Lauren had really known with certainty the tragedy that was going to take place that night at the mission. She herself had wondered so many times over the years how many really knew.
In the aftermath, the police and the media had been brutal. The social workers had succeeded fairly well in keeping the identities and the faces of the surviving children off the television screens and the front pages of the newspapers. This had been another place where Lauren Wells had played the part of their champion. In spite of her grief in losing her daughter and grandchild, Lauren had taken on all comers. She had faced the wolves while the other three were quietly being moved to safe shelters within the system.
This was when Kelly had last been in touch with any of them.
Jade waved at her from behind the glass, and Kelly waved back. “Ready to come out?”
“Five more minutes.” The child pressed ten fingers against the glass.
Kelly nodded to her daughter before looking down at the screen of her laptop.
Technology was a true blessing. Her computer was her private domain. Nobody accessed this laptop but her. As a result, she had no need for boxes of old newspaper clippings. No faded pictures lying around. Kelly kept everything she had about the Butler Mission and the other survivors locked securely in her computer files.
While working at the Times, she’d had access to so much material, and she’d made use of the resources. Every article, obituary, photo, and academic study that touched on the Butler Mission was now copied into her computer. Every government and law enforcement file that had been made public was here. And that wasn’t all. The results of her own research were here, too. She’d gone as far as finding out the new last names of the other survivors. As of six years ago or so, she knew what part of the country they lived in, what they did, how they were.
But that’s where she’d stopped. Greg had moved into her life, and she’d taken a different road.
Kelly opened up the old files. She scrolled down the listing of the hundred plus articles that had been written about the Butler Mission suicide over the years. She searched for the first articles on the car accident and the Mission suicide. Years ago, she remembered seeing a picture of Lauren in one of them.
As she looked at the partial titles of the early articles, one jumped out at her. Then another.
Trooper Finds Wife Among Victims…
State Trooper Campbell Testifies at Mission Cult Hearing…
Campbell Quits Force...
She opened the first of the article files. It was one of the personal interest pieces that ran as a sidebar along with the straight news about the suicide.
State Trooper Ian Campbell, one of the two officers first to arrive at the scene of the Butler Mission mass suicide found his wife of less than a month among the dead. Anne Campbell, a social worker with the New Mexico Department of Child and Family Services, was visiting the…
Kelly’s heart was beating hard enough that she could feel it pounding in her ears. She felt sick to her stomach. She looked at the picture of the man, dressed in his uniform walking up the steps. She zoomed in on the face of the grim young man.
Ian.
Chapter 13
Joshua Sharpe, clearly in a hurry to go to Errol, had only been able to give Ian a few minutes of his time. Speaking quickly, he explained the camp was running like a retreat this summer, mainly for his own church in Boston. He intended to run it himself, allowing only a few different religious organizations to use it for the same purpose, each taking a week here or there later in the summer.
Before leaving, Sharpe called over one of the camp counselors, Caleb Smith, to help Ian with whatever else he might need. Ian remembered him as being the young men who’d come to the inn to empty the cottage last night.
After Sharpe had driven off, Caleb began to show Ian around, but his cheerful demeanor slipped a little when Ian started asking questions.
“When did you arrive?”
“I just came in yesterday.”
“Drive in?” he asked, looking around at the few cars in the small parking lot.
“No, my buddies and I came by bus. Why?”
“To Independence?”
“That’s right.”
“You didn’t happen to see an old lady get off the bus with you.”
Caleb thought for a minute, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Can you think hard about it? It’s pretty important to her family.”
“No,” Caleb said more definitely. “I don’t recall anyone getting off with us at Independence. But then again, there were five of us, and we weren’t paying much attention.”
“Think any of the others might remember seeing her?”
“Listen, I’m sure nobody got off with us.”
“Okay,” Ian said, hearing the change in tone. “How many people have you got coming this week?”
“About a hundred fifty or so, I hear.”
“That the whole congregation?” Ian asked.
“I don’t really know.”
Ian glanced again at the nearly empty parking lot. “Where are all their cars?”
“We transported everyone in from a commuter lot out on the state road.”
“Oh, good idea. Is that how you got here from town?”
“Yeah. The van picked us up,” Caleb said tucking his clipboard under one arm.
“Do you have a registration list? Something with the names of the people you’re expecting this week?”
Ian’s question threw Caleb for a second. After fumbling around and scratching his face with the edge of his clipboard, he turned to an older man who was walking past and repeated the question.
“Yeah, there’s a complete list, but Josh would have it.” The man walked on.
Anyone who might have been some help seemed to be on the go. The one person put in charge of helping him was absolutely useless.
“Do people stay at the inn and spend the days here?” he asked, turning his attention back to Caleb.
“I’d imagine they do. Some folks aren’t real campers, if you know what I mean.”
“Do you know if anyone’s doing that this week?”
“I don’t really know. Josh’s list would have that,” Caleb said apologetically. “We’re still trying to get all our ducks in a row for the summer.”
“I’d like to talk to your friends who were on the bus coming in,” Ian said, focusing again on Lauren’s disappearance. “Would that be a problem?�
�
Caleb looked briefly at the tables with children’s activities going on. “That’d be no problem, but they’re all in the middle of stuff. You have to keep kids busy, you know. If you have a picture or something of your friend, I can show it to them when they’re on their lunch break.”
“I don’t have one on me now, but I’ll get one.”
A woman poked her head out of the door of the infirmary and called to Caleb. He waved at her.
“I can ask my friends. If any of them remember anything, they could swing by the inn at the end of the day and look at the picture…you know, and see if it’s the same person.”
“No. I’ll come back,” Ian replied. “And I don’t want to hold you up. You go do what you’ve got to do. I’ll just poke my head around the camp before I leave.”
“That’s okay. She’ll…uh, she’ll wait.” Caleb motioned toward the first row of cabins. “I have time to show you around.”
Ian glanced at the edge of the lake. Ash was stretched out on top of a picnic bench, and her boyfriend was clicking away with his camera. They’d already drawn a small crowd. Up by Kelly’s car, Bill was leaning against the vehicle with his arms crossed over his chest and talking to the same counselor Caleb had asked about the registration list.
Ian tried to think why Cassy had brought Jade here yesterday. “Is this your first year working up here?”
“No,” Caleb answered. “I was here last year, too, but for only a month of the summer.”
“And the rest of your crew?”
“Some of them are back from last year. This is too good a job to pass up.”
Maybe there was an explanation for the baby-sitter’s action after all. As he followed Caleb toward the first cabin, Ian looked down at the stage. “What’s on the banner?”
“A welcome greeting for the families,” Caleb answered, holding the door open for him.
“And the baptismal font?”
“Just that.” The young man smiled. “We have new people who’ve never been baptized.”
