by Jan Coffey
“They needed more room than you gave them in the carriage house?”
Kelly shrugged. “I had no reason to distrust them. And it wasn’t like I needed the space myself. I sold almost everything from my apartment in New York before moving. The little I brought along all fit up here.”
Ian guessed that Janice was involved with the Butler Mission, but he hadn’t decided on Bill’s involvement yet. The tough old bird didn’t quite fit the profile, as far as Ian could tell. But then again, finding Rose Wilton in those photos had been a surprise.
“What is in that back room?” Kelly asked.
“It’s a kind of repository for everything. The history of the Mission. Butler’s sermons, books…everything needed to educate the next generation of martyrs.”
Ian felt her body stiffen.
“The next generation?”
He told her about the books and the furniture and the photographs—most importantly about the photos.
“Your mother, Rose Wilton, was in some of those pictures.”
Kelly stared at him in disbelief.
“Not in the later photos. These were snapshots of some of the early days. She looked like she was conducting an interview.”
Kelly was silent for a long time, and he let her think it through.
“She taught cultural anthropology,” she said finally. “That included religion, so it figures. She never told me about it, never acted or hinted in any way that she’d had any connection with the Mission.”
“She wouldn’t, just as Anne didn’t. If my assumption is correct, Rose had a job to do—keeping you safe and delivering you here.”
“And Frank?”
Ian shook his head. “I just don’t know. I only glanced through a few of the boxes and records. I could be wrong, and Rose’s connection could be entirely innocent. But what I can’t understand,” he said with a frown, “is how they could think a potential recruit would ever buy into their beliefs after seeing those pictures.”
“Not everyone would see them,” she replied. “I remember, even at my age back then, realizing that there was an ‘insider’ doctrine and an ‘outsider’ doctrine. The sect had levels of membership, based on trust. The more important you were, the more you knew of the secrets. Plus, we were constantly told we had to protect our beliefs from our enemies. So what was put out for public consumption—for potential donors and for new members—was different.”
“New members like Anne?”
She nodded. “I know now how it was done. It was just standard psychology. Father Mike’s way with people like her was to appeal to her compassion and gain her trust, then practice basic mind control techniques.”
“You mean brainwashing?”
She shrugged. “Elements of brainwashing and hypnosis are part of it. Peer pressure is part of it, but so is constant negativity members are barraged with. Chanting is used as a part of the praying to create subconscious associations. A few years ago, when I started researching some of this stuff, I was amazed to see how many bright, educated people from stable backgrounds have been drawn into different cults.”
“Most of Butler’s victims were underage kids or young women who’d gone there, thinking it was safe.”
“I know. They thought they were getting into one nice, big, happy family. Once there, they quickly lost their freedom to make choices. They gave them up freely, thinking Father Mike knew what was best for them. It all spirals downward after that. They bought into his doctrines because there couldn’t be anything better for them elsewhere. They were gradually implanted with phobias, too, about what would happen to them physically or spiritually if they ever turned their backs on the cult.”
“They were programmed.”
Kelly nodded. “I was a kid, but I felt it, myself. The weird thing was that I knew it then. That doesn’t usually happen, from what I read. Still, he used his power of mind control on me, too. I became a different person when I was in Father Mike’s presence. He had some power, some charisma that he knew how to use on people. When I was standing in front of him, he controlled my behavior, my thoughts, my emotions. My will.”
She entwined her fingers with his and looked up into his eyes before she continued. “Don’t make a judgment about who your wife was, or how much she loved you, or whether she cared about your marriage, based on a couple of pictures. She was programmed, Ian, just like Rose. They were victims. As a social worker, Anne was important to them before the suicide. Her education, her job, the potential media coverage, they were all factors. Don’t judge her as a rational person.”
There was so much to think about.
“And look at how much we don’t know about the cult,” she added. “You investigated it and I was a member since childhood, but you and I both thought what happened twenty-two years ago was a onetime deal. That it was over. But obviously, it isn’t.”
He looked at her, feeling his jaws tighten. What Kelly said was true, and what it all meant was that he had to put a stop to it. Not just for Monday, but forever.
~~~~
On nights like this, stars did not seem real. They did not project the appearance of celestial bodies of gas and matter. To the human eye, they looked more like a million tiny tears in a black velvet universe. They only seemed to hint at a greater light, a greater illumination, which lay beyond the cosmic fabric of the night.
Here, beneath the flawed and covering sphere, the New Hampshire sky was crystalline, and the moon, following its ordered path, was beginning its descent into the western sky. White and cold, the lunar orb bathed the lakeside with its tall pines and maples in a pale blue light. From beneath the trees, black, shape-changing shadows crept and grew along the uneven ground until they touched the walls of the inn.
Outside the apartment on the third floor, the slate plaque depicting a crescent moon rocked slightly in the breeze coming through the landing’s open window. Inside, all was quiet and still. The room was dark, except for two shafts of light coming through the skylights. The two beams moved slowly, relentlessly across the floor. A child’s bed lay in the path of one, and the light climbed the side of the bed inch by inch.
The little girl grew restless in her sleep, then turned and rolled onto her back. The yellow blanket clutched in her arms dropped to the floor. The beam of light continued to rise, curling upward over the edge of the bed and caressing her shoulder. She lay motionless, her arms at her sides, her innocent face quiet and calm.
Like some ethereal presence, the moonlight moved across the pillow. It molded itself to her, filling the folds at the neck of the girl’s T-shirt, the slight rise of her collarbone, the curve of her ear, the soft lines of her cheek. Like some otherworldly wraith, the pale light took possession of all it touched.
When the moonlight touched her eyelid, Jade’s eyes suddenly opened.
She didn’t move. She made no sound. The moonlight continued its inexorable progress across her unblinking eyes. Jade stared upward at the ceiling until the moonlight bathed her entire face, and then she sat up.
She did not look either right or left. Pulling back her blankets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the floor. Her face was in shadow now, but it made no difference. As if still asleep, Jade stood up beside the bed and did not move for a long moment. Then, she moved silently to the chair where her clothes were laid out for the morning. She pulled on her jeans and buttoned them. Picking up her sweatshirt, she slipped it over her head and worked her arms in. Sitting on the chair, she tugged on her sneakers.
Dressed, she sat where she was for several minutes, staring vacantly across the apartment. She did not see the moonbeams as they crossed her mother’s empty bed.
As if she had received some invisible, inaudible signal, Jade stood up and walked slowly across the room. Without looking where she was going, she went around furniture and past the counter that separated the living area from the kitchenette. When she reached the open door leading from the apartment, she went out without hesitation.
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br /> The muffled sound of voices coming from the room beyond did not disturb her, and she passed the partly open door noiselessly.
The stairwell was steep and pitch black, but it was no obstacle. Three steps up from the bottom, Jade leaned out and easily unlatched the door. Descending the rest of the way, she went into the hall, leaving the door open behind her.
She walked down the long hall, touching each room’s zodiac sign as she passed, but never once looking at them. The house was silent, and no one came out of any room. At the end, she stood at the top of the stairs leading to the parlor. The last of the setting moon was shining in through the window, bathing her in its pale light. She stopped and went to the window. For a long time, she did nothing but stare with unseeing eyes out at the lake and the woods. Then, slowly, she lifted her hand and waved into the darkness.
Turning, she went down the stairs, her arms dangling loosely at her sides. The parlor was lit only by the lamp on the reception desk. The dull black eyes of the moose above the fireplace stared as vacantly as Jade’s green eyes. She stood at the bottom of the staircase. The inn was deathly quiet. Then, she padded across the lobby to the front entrance. Turning the latch, she went out.
The air was cold and crisp, but she felt nothing. As she went down the front steps, the air from her mouth and nose formed little wisps but quickly dissipated into nothingness. The gravel crunched beneath her feet. A moment later, she left the parking area and started across the dew-covered grass. Down the hill she walked until she reached the lake. Ahead of her, the water was flat as glass.
Jade walked along the water’s edge, past the cottages and the boathouse and the beach, following the lakeshore until she drew near to the woods, and stopped.
The moon had set beyond them, and the sky in the east had not yet begun to lighten. There was no sound coming from the forest. No owls, no hunting coyotes, no bullfrogs, even, calling out from the lake. Nothing but silence and darkness in this hour before dawn.
Out of the trees stepped a solitary figure.
Cassy held out her hand, and Jade walked without hesitation to her, placing small fingers in her sitter’s hand. The teenager looked up at the darkened windows of the third floor for a moment and smiled.
Then, wordlessly, she turned Jade toward the trees, and they were gone.
Chapter 19
The sky outside was just beginning to lighten, and the loud chirping of the birds promised the coming dawn. Kelly leaned over Ian to look at the clock. It was 5:01.
“Time for me to go back.” She placed a kiss on his lips and tried to get off the bed. His arm wrapped around her. Kelly looked up into his face.
“Everything will be okay,” he whispered.
She nodded, wanting to believe him, telling herself that she was not alone in this. While they were making love or talking, she was happy. The magnitude of what they were facing seemed somehow manageable. But now, the nervousness had set in.
“I’ll bring the phone back here,” she said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. She reached for her shirt and jeans and hurriedly pulled them on. The air was cold. “I want Jade to sleep as long as she can.”
Ian pushed the covers back too and sat up next to her. “What time does Janice start in the morning?”
“No earlier than six-thirty or so. Wilson gets in around six.”
“I want to make the call before there’s a chance of one of them eavesdropping downstairs. I don’t want to jeopardize Dan’s cover, if he was planted here for a purpose.”
Kelly stood up. “I’ll get it for you right now.”
Quietly, she opened the door wide and stepped out into the dark sitting room. A breeze coming in through the window chilled the air. She ran her hands up and down her bare arms and walked to the window to close it. The Desposito rental truck had not returned last night. She closed the window, telling herself there was too much other stuff on her plate right now to be worrying about a pair of guests who’d probably spent the night carousing. It wasn’t the first time.
Walking into her apartment, she immediately reached over the kitchen counter for the telephone. Rays of dawn had started streaking through the windows. She heard Ian’s steps behind her and turned around, handing him the phone.
He’d pulled on his pants, but was still shirtless. For a few seconds she just had to stand and stare. How handsome a man he was and how quickly he’d come to mean so much to her. It was like she’d found an old flame. Last night hadn’t been simply about passion. It had been about the different ways they were connected to each other.
He rubbed his thumb gently across her lower lip and motioned that he was taking the phone out.
Kelly nodded and tiptoed across the room toward Jade’s bed. A couple of steps was all it took before she noticed the blankets had been pushed back. The bed was empty. Her daughter’s old yellow blanket was lying on the floor next to the bed. Her shoes and the clothes on the chair were gone.
The taste of bile climbed into the back of her throat. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She whirled around, her eyes searching every corner of the room. She rushed toward the bathroom, turning on the light. She wasn’t there. Kelly ran out.
“There’s no dial tone,” Ian whispered from the open door of the apartment. His gaze immediately focused on Kelly. “What’s wrong?”
“Jade.” The name came out in a painful sob. “Jade’s gone.”
He immediately turned on the overhead light and looked around the room.
“Check the closets, under the bed,” he said grimly, pointing as he backed out of the apartment.
She wasn’t there. Kelly knew her daughter. Her little girl had never liked hiding in closets or crawling under beds. She followed Ian as he turned on the lights and went quickly down the stairs.
“God…no!” she cried, peering past Ian’s shoulder. The door at the bottom of the staircase was wide open.
“You go down this hallway. I’ll take the back steps,” he told her. His voice rang through the upper floors. “JADE!”
Kelly switched on the lights in the hall. She didn’t give a damn about waking anyone up. She yelled her daughter’s name as she ran. She turned the corner, hoping Jade would be in her favorite alcove at the top of the stairs leading to the lobby. Nothing. She rushed down the stairs and saw Ian coming out of the hallway behind the reception desk.
“The back door is still locked,” he told her, motioning to Kelly to check the dining room door that led to the deck. He headed for the front door.
The sun was coming up outside. The door to the deck was locked, too. Still, Kelly felt no relief as she looked at the thick fog rising off the lake beyond the beach.
“Please…please…Jade!” she called out, hurrying through the rooms downstairs. She spied Ian outside on the walkway, and felt her hopes die. Tears rushed into her eyes and a sob choked her. She ran to the open front door and caught up to Ian in the parking lot.
“The door was unlocked and the screen door open,” he told her. “I closed it myself last night. That’s the way she got out…or how they took her out.”
“How could they take her just like that?” Kelly asked desperately. “How could we not have heard them?”
“The door at the bottom of the stairs wasn’t forced,” he said, frowning. “She let herself out.”
“JADE,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. A couple of birds taking flight and the sound of the breeze in the leaves in the trees near the lake were her only answer. Nothing more. No Jade. No answer from anyone.
The oddity of it hit Kelly the same time as it must have hit Ian. The two of them had made enough noise to wake the dead. She stared up toward the house, looming ominously over them in the light of dawn. Not a single person had come out of their room. No one had looked out the windows or appeared to ask what was wrong. The inn was full of people, but there wasn’t a breath of life in it.
Ian’s attention was on the parking lot. The only vehicles left were Ian’s car, Kelly’s four-wheel drive and Bill’s
old truck.
“Janice,” she whispered, running off barefoot in the direction of the carriage house. Jade went there sometimes. She liked having Bill read books to her on the chairs beneath the maple tree by the front door. The grass was cold and wet on her feet, but Kelly was barely aware of it. Only the pain that was ripping at her insides distracted her at all.
“Please…please!” she cried, going to their front door. “Let her be here…please. JADE! Janice…Bill!”
She pounded on the door. There was no answer from inside. She turned the knob and the door opened. Kelly almost fell into the dark living room. The smell of old furniture and mustiness greeted her. The curtains were all drawn shut. She fumbled her way toward one of the tables and turned on a light.
Charts, zodiac signs, and old maps were everywhere, pinned to the walls, spread on the tables and chairs and on the sofa. There were boxes and old books scattered on the floor.
Kelly stared, unable to comprehend the mess. This was so unlike the Janice she knew. The Janice she thought she knew. She saw the label on the closest box. New Mexico. Butler. Just as Ian said he’d found stored in the basement.
“No…please God, no!” Kelly cried, walking through the house. She went to the bedroom. The curtains were closed there, too. She turned on the light. Two empty beds sat on either side of the window. In her mind’s eye, she saw her adoptive parents, Frank and Rose Wilton, sleeping in this very same room.
It was no coincidence that they bought this particular inn when they’d retired from teaching. It was part of a master plan that at least one of them had been party to. From the little Kelly had heard from them about the move here, there had been no shopping around for other inns in other states. Frank once told her that Rose had simply fallen in love with Tranquility Inn, and that was what triggered the move. At the time, that was good enough for him.
Years of living here brought disenchantment. Kelly remembered Frank telling her privately that buying the place had been a mistake. Rose had said the same thing, with a note of bitterness in her voice, after Frank’s death. But by then, it was too late.
