by Sharon Sala
“Breakfast calls. Your choice of places,” he said.
“IHOP,” Wyrick said. She googled the nearest location and off they went.
She navigated, Charlie drove, and despite a long breakfast line, they were seated and waiting to order within an hour of their landing. She knew she would be less of a curiosity without her flashy clothes and makeup, and she was right. People saw her and thought “cancer victim.” And she knew the less flashy she looked, the less trouble her appearance would draw in the prison, too.
On one level it bothered her to be labeled that way, because she was no one’s victim, but this wasn’t the day to challenge society’s opinion of judging people by how they looked, and Charlie was doing enough frowning at people’s stares for both of them. It was yet another reason he rocked her world, but the last damn thing she’d ever let him know.
The waitress came, poured coffee and took their orders. Charlie knew before Wyrick opened her mouth that she would order Belgian waffles with whipped cream and fruit, and she did. And then the moment he thought it, he was startled he knew that. It had to be from the time they’d spent together on the Dunleavy case. The longer he knew her, the more secrets of Jade Wyrick were revealed, including her penchant for Belgian waffles. Her taste for waffles was a safe thing to know. His growing interest in the rest of her wasn’t. She was his trusted employee. He wasn’t sure if the word friend would apply, but that was as far as interest could go. It bothered him that was even in his thoughts, and he added sugar to his coffee without thinking.
Wyrick saw it and looked up.
“Since when did you start putting sugar in your coffee?” she asked.
Startled he’d done that, he put down the spoon he’d been stirring with, and frowned.
“Since today. I’m getting off it any day now,” he said and drank it like medicine.
* * *
“Wake up, girl,” someone said softly and shook Jordan’s shoulder.
Jordan sat up with a jerk, then saw one of the other girls standing beside her bed, holding a towel and washcloth.
“You have to bathe before you can eat,” she said and handed them to her. “The showers are down the hall and to the left. Soap and shampoo are on the shelves. Don’t waste.”
Jordan swung her legs off the bed, then stood, eyeing the girl.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Miranda Powers, but everyone calls me Randi. You’re Jordan Bien, right?”
Jordan frowned. “How do you know that?”
“We all witnessed Archangel Jud dedicate you to Fourth Dimension before he left to bring you in.”
Jordan was taken aback by her complacency and wondered if they had been instructed to spy on her.
“Where’s my bag?” she asked.
“In that closet,” Randi said, but she kept shifting from one foot to the other, unwilling to leave. Finally, curiosity got the best of her. “How did you get that blood on you?”
“Killing snakes and rats,” Jordan said.
Randi gasped and then gave the room in which they were standing an anxious scan, just to make sure nothing like that crawled out of a corner here.
Jordan got her bag and went back toward the showers. There were a dozen showerheads spaced out along the length of one wall, where four young girls stood with heads down, soaping and washing themselves. Some of them were so young they didn’t even have any body hair, while others were further along in maturity.
Jordan set her things on an open bench and stripped where she stood, then strode to the nearest shower and turned on the water. From the corner of her eye, she saw the other girls glance at her, then duck their heads and keep washing.
She stepped beneath the spray and got her hair wet before reaching for a bottle of shampoo. She squirted a little into the palm of her hand, then slapped it on top of her head and started scrubbing until her scalp was tingling. Then she rinsed out the suds and reached for a bar of soap.
A few minutes later, she turned off the water and dried off. When she saw where the other girls had hung their wet towels, she put hers there, too, then dressed in the only other change of casual clothes she had with her. She also had one dressy outfit she’d packed thinking Jud was going to take her some place special, but this definitely wasn’t that.
Once she was dressed, she combed out the tangles in her wet hair and carried her things back to the closet and put them inside. All of the girls were standing in line again, waiting.
“Does this happen for every meal?” Jordan asked.
Randi nodded and tucked a loose red curl behind her ear.
“Does nobody here give a shit that this is happening?” Jordan asked, but no one answered. So she doubled up her fists and raised her voice. “Well, just so you know, I will fight this with every breath in my body. I will never willingly go to bed with some old man. That’s child molestation. That’s rape. I don’t care what they call it. It’s against the law.”
One girl with long blond hair and the bluest eyes Jordan had ever seen turned around and stared.
“They’ll beat you for arguing,” she said softly.
“What’s your name?” Jordan asked.
“Barbie,” she said softly.
“Here’s the deal, Barbie. I can’t control what they do, but I am in control of my reactions, and I will fight back,” Jordan said.
“It won’t work. You’ll see,” another girl said.
There was a sudden rattle at the door. Jordan watched the girls go quiet as they bowed their heads and looked down at the floor.
“Don’t look into their faces,” Randi whispered.
And just like that, Jordan lifted her head.
* * *
Charlie swiped his last bite of pancake through the syrup left in his plate and popped it in his mouth, then chased it with the last bite of bacon, while Wyrick finished her coffee.
“Umm, good stuff,” Charlie said, then glanced at the time. “We have a little over an hour and a half before the appointment.”
“I sent the warden a text and told him we were in town early because of the weather. He told us to come whenever.”
“Oh, good call,” Charlie said, then picked up their ticket. “I’m going to make a pit stop here before we get to the prison.”
Wyrick nodded, and when Charlie went into the men’s room, she went into the women’s.
There was a woman at the washstand, and another coming out of a stall. They both glanced at her, then went about their business. Wyrick already knew she invited derision with her normal public persona, but she didn’t give a damn. She didn’t do it for shock value. She did it in defiance of what she’d endured, and it was on other people as to how they received her.
When she went back out to join Charlie, her chin was up, her stride long and certain. They walked out together, and as they were driving away, Wyrick was already navigating to the new address.
Seven
Wyrick pulled a notepad out of her bag as Charlie maneuvered through Phoenix traffic.
“Since this Peter Wendell Long we’re going to interview was a member of Fourth Dimension, have you taken his psychic abilities into consideration for when you question him?” she asked.
Charlie frowned. “No, I have not, probably because I’m a skeptic of the whole process.”
“That’s what I figured,” Wyrick said. “If he’s going to be hostile in helping us, and is truly psychic on some level, I want you to ask him these questions. He doesn’t have to answer them, but he needs to hear them.”
“What the hell good will that do?” Charlie asked.
“For one thing, it will keep me happy,” Wyrick snapped, then tore the page from her notepad, folded it up and stuck it in Charlie’s shirt pocket.
“Fine,” Charlie muttered.
He’d either find out later, or he wouldn’t, but h
e wasn’t going down that road with her. A few minutes later they arrived at the prison. Charlie pulled into a parking place in front of the main building and killed the engine.
“Homey little place, isn’t it?” Wyrick said, eyeing the high fencing and the coils and coils of razor wire strung across the top of it. The arid desert landscape had its own cachet, but she wasn’t a fan of so much brown. In the distance, a dust devil stirred up by the wind was skipping along the surface of the ground, and when they got out, the air smelled of sage and tasted of dust.
“Prepare to be searched,” Charlie said as they stepped onto the sidewalk and headed for the entrance.
Wyrick already knew that would happen, and she also knew that her normal spandex attire would not have been allowed, which was why she was in jeans, a T-shirt and a lightweight jacket for protection against the sun.
Except for the comment Charlie made about the layer of dust on everything, they walked in silence until they were inside. They signed in, naming who they had come to visit, and then they were searched before being escorted into the visitation room. It was a large communal area, with family visitations being held in little groups about the room. Armed guards stood watch, ready to intervene at the first hint of problems or noise.
The officer who was escorting them paused in the doorway.
“Could we sit at that table?” Charlie asked, pointing to an empty table with a good amount of distance to the next group of visitors.
“Sit wherever. They’ll bring the prisoner to you. You know the rules. Please observe them,” he said and walked away.
Charlie glanced at Wyrick, but she was pale and mute. He lowered his voice.
“Are you okay?”
She glared at him and then looked away. But when he was otherwise occupied, she wiped her sweaty hands on the legs of her jeans and took a deep breath. She’d always been a little sensitive about the energy of places, but this had to be the worst place she’d ever experienced. It felt dark and evil, and she kept glancing at the walls, making sure they weren’t closing in on them, because that was what it felt like. It didn’t feel like a place that would ever turn loose what had been captured and imprisoned here, but she settled down and blanked her thoughts.
They’d been waiting a little over fifteen minutes when the prisoner they were waiting for finally entered the common room, accompanied by a guard.
“That’s him. That’s Peter Wendell Long,” Wyrick said. “Don’t forget the list of questions in your pocket.”
Charlie sighed.
“Please,” Wyrick added.
And that was when he realized there was more to her request than just trying to control things.
“Yes, I will. Stop worrying,” he said and then shifted focus as Long approached.
* * *
Long was staring at them in confusion, and when the guard sat him down in the chair across the table from them, he leaned forward, staring at them intently.
Wyrick already knew he was trying to get a read on them, and that he had picked up on Charlie being some kind of cop.
“Are you Peter Wendell Long?” Charlie asked.
“You know I am or you wouldn’t be here,” Pete said. “So who the hell are you?”
“My name is Charlie Dodge, and this is Wyrick, my assistant. I’m a private investigator out of Dallas, Texas, working on a missing child case, and I believe you might have some information that could help us.”
Pete Long eyed Wyrick’s bald head out of curiosity, but when the comment Dodge made finally sank in, he was immediately on guard.
“I am not some serial kidnapper, and you’re wasting your time,” he snapped.
“You kidnapped your niece,” Charlie said and knew he’d hit an old nerve when Long’s face reddened.
“It wasn’t like everyone thought, but I’m here, so justice is being served. I’m not talking about what happened again. I’m not explaining it, and I’m not talking to you,” he said.
Charlie pulled the list from his pocket and unfolded it.
“The girl we’re looking for is with her father. We already know that, so no one is accusing you of that crime, okay?”
The tension in Pete Long’s shoulders eased. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”
Charlie glanced down at the list, then back up at Long. “We think her father is a member of Fourth Dimension. We think he took his daughter for the same reason you took your niece.”
Now that the pressure was off, Pete leaned back in the folding chair, remembering the plans and dreams he’d had there, which had never come to fruition.
“What does that have to do with me?” he asked.
“We don’t know where Fourth Dimension is located. We don’t even know what state it’s in. We were hoping you could help.”
Pete was silent a few moments and then shook his head. “I don’t out my brothers.”
“Can you at least tell us what the place looks like? Is it in a city, or a rural area? Is it flat land? Mountains? What’s the name of the closest town?” Charlie asked and watched Pete Long’s eyes narrow as he stared at them in continued silence.
Wyrick could feel the power it gave Long to refuse their requests, but she was careful to stay off his radar.
Charlie sighed. There was one last question on the list.
“Look, man...this is a kid...she’s got to be scared to death. She’s missing home. She’s missing her mother. At least tell us why she was taken? Why did you take your niece? What’s the purpose of taking little girls? If it’s human trafficking, then why take someone near and dear to you? Why not a stranger?”
The question hit a nerve. Pete’s hands curled into fists.
“You go to hell. It has nothing to do with human trafficking. It’s not a bad place. It’s a pure place, and I’m done here.” He stood up, and the moment he did, his guard was at the table. “Take me back to my cell,” he said.
The guard looked at Charlie.
“We’re through,” Charlie said.
The guard handcuffed Long and walked him out.
“That was a bust,” Charlie muttered, then he and Wyrick got up and walked out.
Wyrick got just as many stares going out as she had coming in, but she didn’t care what they thought. Coming here was the break they needed. They stopped to sign out and then left the building.
Walking out into the dry, dusty land was, for Wyrick, like walking out of a dungeon. But what she knew now about Fourth Dimension made her skin crawl. They got into the rental car and then sat for a few moments, waiting for the car to cool off while Charlie checked his phone for messages.
Out of the blue, Wyrick started talking.
“Fourth Dimension is a cult of men who claim to have psychic powers,” she said.
“But we sort of guessed that after our meeting with Tara Bien, right?” Charlie said.
“But we didn’t know why Jud Bien kidnapped her,” Wyrick said.
“Tara Bien guessed it was because Jordan was also gifted like that in some ways,” Charlie said. “What we needed to know was where to find them.”
“The cult is in a heavily wooded area in the mountains of Kentucky. The closest town is a place called Shawnee Gap. And the reason they’re taking young girls there is to donate them to a slush pile from which their wives will be chosen. Once a member makes his donation, he’s then free to choose his wife from any of the others.”
Charlie gasped. “What the fuck are you saying?”
“If the little girls are all blood kin to the members, then there’s the supposition that the DNA that made the member psychic could be carried through into the girls in their families. They’re using them as breeders to grow their own cult of psychics. Jud Bien’s payment to choose his own mate was to donate someone. He donated his daughter.”
Charlie’s face went pale. “Just when I think I’
ve heard or witnessed every depravity man can do to another, something like this happens, and I am horrified anew.” He wiped a hand over his face, then looked at her in disbelief. “How the hell do you know that?”
Wyrick shrugged. “I saw his thoughts like a movie.”
“Have you always been able to do this?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know. But when I thought about it, I knew it would work. However, it’s all beside the point.”
“So when we find Jordan, we have to rescue all of the girls there, not just her,” Charlie said.
Wyrick nodded.
Charlie glanced at his watch. “We need to get back to Dallas and pack for the trip. Has the storm moved out yet?”
“I’ll check,” Wyrick said, pulling her laptop from the bag at her feet as Charlie backed up and drove away.
He could hear the click of the keys as she typed, and knew Wyrick would have an answer soon.
“So are we going home today or not?” Charlie asked.
“We’re going home. The storm is already moving into the far northeast part of the state.”
“Good. Now look up Shawnee Gap. Are we flying or driving?”
* * *
Jordan had eaten the breakfast of oatmeal and toast that they served to everyone. The girls were silent, so she stayed silent, too. She saw her father sitting at a long table with other men and knew he was trying to catch her eye, but she ignored him. There was another table where couples sat. She supposed those were the “married” ones. What horrified her most were four young girls with fat little babies in their laps. They didn’t look much older than the girls who were still in the dormitory. But they’d obviously been married close to two years, because it took nine months to grow a baby, and the two babies looked to be anywhere from nine months to a year old. She knew it hurt to have a baby. And she knew it hurt to have sex. At least at first. That was what her friends said. Her mother had told her all about getting her period and about reproduction, but unless a miracle happened, her first sexual experience would be rape.
