TENDER TREACHERY (Mystery Romance): The TENDER Series ~ Book 2

by H. Y. Hanna

  “It looks like Angela has gone off to join this retreat,” Toran said as he followed her back into the kitchen. “There’s a confirmed sighting of her on the ferry out to Pulau Ubin yesterday morning. That’s one of the small offshore islands—it’s a popular spot for locals and tourists who want to ‘get away from it all’, see a side of Singapore that’s still untouched by modern development. The retreat is on an even smaller island next to it.”

  “Yes, I remember Angela mentioning that,” said Leah, putting the last item in the pantry. “But I don’t understand—why are you looking so worried? I mean, if she wants to go off to a retreat, it’s really up to her, isn’t it?”

  Toran leaned his tall frame against the breakfast bar and crossed his arms. He was wearing a pale blue T-shirt, the colour striking against the tan of his muscled forearms. There was a faint shadow of stubble along his jawline and he looked like he hadn’t slept very well. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he had been running his hand through it frequently.

  He gave a sardonic nod. “That’s what the police say. Mrs Chan has been down at the station making a fuss, but with Angela barely gone twenty-four hours and no sign of foul play, the police aren’t that interested. As you said, she’s a grown woman and it isn’t against the law to go and join a retreat, even if your mother isn’t pleased about the idea.”

  Leah looked at him. “But you’re still worried.”

  “Yes,” admitted Toran. “It isn’t just Mrs Chan’s hysterics. This just seems to be so out of character for Angela. Also, I did some quick digging around this morning—rang a couple of contacts—and there’s been some talk about Sanctum Bona Dea.”

  ‘Yeah, Angela told me that as well,” said Leah. “She said that there were a lot of rumours going around about it, but she insisted that they were just the result of jealous gossip, because the leader of the place refused to let people buy their way in.”

  “There could be some truth in that,” said Toran. “But still, it would be good to know just how much of those rumours can be substantiated…”

  “What do the rumours say?” asked Leah.

  “Mainly that Sanctum Bona Dea is a cult that preys on vulnerable young women. Of course, most of the accusations come from the girls’ families so it’s hard to know what’s truth and what’s prejudiced paranoia. As you say, some girls may just want to get away from their families and if they want to use this as a convenient excuse, well…” Toran shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier just to let someone else take the blame rather than find the courage to stand up and rebel. Especially in Asia, family expectations can really cripple you. It’s hard for those in the West to understand, but duty and being ‘filial’ mean a lot here. Grown men and women will still let their parents’ expectations rule their lives.”

  “But this isn’t just about girls finally cutting the umbilical cord,” said Leah, frowning. “You wouldn’t really be worried about Angela, otherwise. There must be more to the rumours than just parents annoyed that their daughters are adopting a lifestyle they don’t like.”

  Toran hesitated. “Last year, there was a girl who was found dead—her body was washed up on the east coast of Singapore. Her family claimed that she had gone to Sanctum Bona Dea and never returned—that she was murdered.”

  Leah felt a chill. “And was she?”

  “Her actual cause of death was drowning. And she was very thin. But when the police investigated, they found that the girl had a history of mental illness. She had wandered off once by herself before and had been found in a daze a day later. So it was conceivable that she had simply gone off on her own again and somehow fallen into the sea and drowned,” said Toran. “When the Matronae was questioned, she claimed that the girl had left the retreat to return home, a few days before the body was discovered. She produced witnesses saying that they saw the girl get on the boat back to Pulau Ubin. So as far as Sanctum Bona Dea is concerned, it was nothing to do with them. The girl had already left their property.”

  “Do you think it’s a cult?” asked Leah.

  Toran ran a hand through his hair, making it even more unruly. “I don’t know, Leah. I deal in facts, not rumours, so until I have more information…” He left the kitchen and crossed the living room to the terraced windows. Leah followed him. They stood and looked out at the gardens together for a moment.

  “I’ve been searching my place to see if Angela left any notes, but she seems to have taken everything with her,” said Toran. “And I spoke to her editor this morning—but she’s pretty much in the dark as well. All she could tell me was that Angela had been planning a big feature on Sanctum Bona Dea, but that’s all she knew. Angela hadn’t sent in any copy or other material and she hadn’t talked about the article to her colleagues.”

  “Is it normal to be so secretive?” asked Leah.

  Toran gave a tired smile. “Journalists can be like that, especially if they have what they think is a big story. They like to keep things close to their chests until it breaks.” A shrill ringing made them both jump. Toran took his mobile phone out of his pocket, looked at the screen, and grimaced. “It’s Angela’s mother. She’s been calling me practically every hour.” He hesitated, then slipped the phone back into his pocket unanswered. A minute later, the ringing finally stopped.

  Leah went to the sofa and sat down. “This might be a stupid question, but has anyone actually tried to call Angela? Maybe she’s fine and just wants to be left alone.”

  “Her mother’s apparently been trying her mobile constantly, but it’s switched off. And Sanctum Bona Dea refuses to act as a go-between. They maintain that their members need their privacy and part of the reason for the success of the retreat is that members are protected from the outside world. Unless the member initiates contact herself, there is no way of talking to a girl once she enters the retreat. Since Angela’s mobile is switched off, it’s assumed that she doesn’t want any contact.”

  Leah took a deep breath. “Why don’t I go in, then?”

  Toran stared at her. “What?”

  “I’ll go and join the retreat,” said Leah. “Just temporarily, of course,” she added hastily. “I just need to find Angela and have a talk with her, see if she’s okay. Since we can’t talk to her from the outside, I’ll go in.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Toran slowly.

  “Why not?” asked Leah. “It’s the simplest solution. Maybe I’ll find Angela sitting around doing yoga and eating lentils or something… and being perfectly happy. Then at least I can come out and tell you that. Or if not, then hopefully I can persuade her to leave with me.”

  Toran looked like he wanted to object, but Leah cut him off.

  “Look, I’m not doing anything at the moment. I haven’t got a job or anything to worry about. I can spare the time…”

  She paused as Toran’s phone started ringing again. He took it out and they both glanced at the screen. It was Mrs Chan.

  “This isn’t going to go away,” said Leah, looking pointedly at the phone. “Toran, I came out to Singapore because I wanted to give us a chance. And—aside from being worried about Angela—we can’t do anything with this hanging over us. Do you really want Angela’s mother calling us night and day? We need to sort this out—then we can move on and get back to a ‘normal’ life.” She didn’t add that she also needed to do it to assuage the sense of guilt she felt about the whole thing. The image of Angela falling into the black chasm in her dream flashed through her mind again and Leah felt her stomach turn uneasily.

  Toran looked at her for a long moment then finally gave a curt nod. “Fine. But I want you to keep your phone on at all times and to stay in contact.”

  “Of course,” said Leah. “Anyway, I’m not even sure I can get into the retreat. Angela told me they have a really strict interview process.”

  “Yes, I saw that on their website,” said Toran. “You can submit an initial application online and they’ll let you know if you’re selected for an interview.”


  “Bloody hell, sounds harder than getting into university,” said Leah, rolling her eyes. “Okay, show me the website.”

  The form was almost like a university application, complete with questions about higher education and a request for a photograph.

  “Why on earth would they need to know whether I have a degree and what I look like?” grumbled Leah as she attached a head and shoulders shot of herself and clicked on the “SUBMIT” button. “I’ll bet they just put those questions in there to make the place seem really exclusive and choosy… you know, to appeal to the competitive Singapore mentality.”

  Toran stood beside her, watching her work on her laptop, but didn’t say anything. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, his green eyes clouded and preoccupied. Leah could sense that he still wasn’t happy with the plan, but she knew he could see that it was the best option.

  The reply came faster than they’d expected. Barely two hours after Leah had submitted her application, she received an email with a list of possible times for the interview sessions. The first available slot was the next morning at 10 a.m.

  Leah replied and confirmed, then sat back and let out a breath. Suddenly, inexplicably, she felt like she was heading for the most important interview of her life.

  CHAPTER 11

  Leah smoothed her skirt nervously as she sat waiting in the reception of one of the towering skyscrapers overlooking Raffles Place. She had been surprised at the location of the Sanctum Bona Dea office—for some reason, she didn’t think a pseudo-pagan retreat would be rubbing shoulders with international finance houses and commercial banks in downtown Singapore. In fact, the décor in this discreet office gave no hint as to its affiliation—other than a single framed photograph on the wall showing a tropical island at sunset, the sky a fiery orange behind the silhouettes of palm trees. Leah assumed that the picture was of the island where the retreat was located.

  “Miss Fisher?” A blonde woman stood by the receptionist’s desk. Her glossily painted mouth stretched into the semblance of a smile, but her eyes were blank. “My name is Crystal. Please come this way.”

  Leah stood up and followed the woman into the inner office, down a long corridor to a door at the end. As she entered the room, she noticed the blinking red eye of a CCTV camera mounted in the corner of the wall. The thought of someone watching her from behind a screen made her uneasy.

  “Is this being filmed?” she asked, gesturing to the camera as she sat down in front of the desk.

  Crystal laughed smoothly. “Oh, that’s just a leftover from the old days. This office used to belong to an investment bank—they must have installed cameras for security reasons. There are cameras in every room. I’ve gotten so used to it, I don’t even notice them anymore. Don’t worry about it.” She waved her hand.

  Leah noted that Crystal hadn’t really answered her question. She gave the camera a last look, then turned around and tried to ignore it.

  “We’re delighted that you’re interested in joining our exclusive community at Sanctum Bona Dea,” said Crystal, giving that vacant smile again as she sat down behind the desk opposite Leah. “How did you hear about the retreat?”

  “Oh, I heard someone mention it on my flight over from the U.K.,” said Leah casually. “I’ve just moved back to Singapore and I’ve got some time to spare. I’ve been feeling a bit burnt out from my previous job, so I thought this sounded like a great idea—somewhere to chill out and… uh… find myself again.”

  Crystal nodded appreciatively. “You will certainly do that. So you are new to Singapore? What about your family? Are they here as well?”

  “I have no close family,” said Leah. “My parents are dead and I was an only child.”

  “No family?” said Crystal quickly. “I… see. Well, that is a shame. But don’t worry, at Sanctum Bona Dea, you will soon find your new, spiritual family.”

  Leah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she tried to look hopeful. “Does that mean that I’m accepted?”

  Crystal pulled out a form and spread it in front of her. Leah could see her own picture—the one she had submitted online last night—in the top right-hand corner. The blonde woman wrote a few things on the form, then clasped her hands and smiled at Leah. She had very beautiful, even, white teeth which set off the bright pink gloss on her lips.

  “As I’m sure you can appreciate, it is a special environment and we are keen to preserve the unique ambience at Sanctum Bona Dea, so that all members can have the best experience possible. I need to ask you a few questions and then there will be a simple physical assessment, to make sure that you are a suitable candidate for our programme.”

  “Oh-kay,” said Leah slowly, wondering what was coming.

  The questions seemed innocuous enough at first—questions about her job, her nationality, her marital status, although Leah couldn’t understand why her work experience or her ethnic background mattered.

  “Are your eyes naturally blue? Or are you wearing coloured contact lenses?”

  “Are they what—?” Leah stared at Crystal in surprise, but the other woman seemed oblivious to the peculiarity of her question. “Uh… yes, of course, they are naturally blue.”

  “And your hair? Is this your natural colour?”

  “Uh… yes, dark brown.”

  “Have you had plastic surgery or other cosmetic enhancements?”

  “No, I haven’t,” said Leah, feeling more and more bewildered.

  “Have you ever been pregnant?”

  “No.” Leah frowned. “What does that—”

  “Are your periods regular? And at what age did you begin menstruating?”

  “Hey, am I going to a retreat or a gynaecologist?” asked Leah, laughing. “What does all this have to do with—”

  “Bona Dea is an ancient goddess of fertility.” Crystal’s glossy lips stretched into that empty smile again. “We believe it is crucial for every woman to know and understand her own fertility cycles, in order to fully embrace her womanhood and goddess-centred healing. It is an important part of our programme. Please answer the questions.”

  For a moment, Leah was tempted to say something rude about pagan mumbo-jumbo, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she said, “Yes, my periods are fine. I started around thirteen.”

  “Excellent,” Crystal made a note on the form in front of her. “And are you sexually active?”

  “That really is none of your business,” Leah snapped. “I don’t care if the goddess wants to embrace my sexuality or whatever.”

  Crystal tipped her head to one side and smiled at her. “Do you always exhibit such shortness of temper? Is it a family trait?”

  “What?” said Leah, wondering if she was the victim of some elaborate practical joke. The woman seemed to be completely mad. She took a deep breath. “No, I do not usually lose my temper quickly. I just find your questions too personal and offensive.”

  “Ah.” Crystal made a note on her form again.

  Leah was too far away to be able to read the cramped handwriting upside-down, but she wished she knew what Crystal was writing about her. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and glanced over her shoulder at the camera again. She could swear that the lens swivelled and focused on her face.

  “Do you have a history of any other medical conditions? For example, high blood pressure, diabetes, heart problems, blood clots, kidney disease…?” Crystal held her pen poised.

  Leah turned back to her. “No… none of those. I’m allergic to mangoes—I break out in a rash if I have too much.”

  Crystal nodded. “Great. And now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll just do the physical assessment.” She stood up from the desk and walked to the wall on the other side of the room. There was a door there which Leah hadn’t noticed until now. She got up and followed Crystal through, finding herself in a room that looked uncannily like a doctor’s clinic. There was an examination bed along one wall, surrounded by curtains on a rail, a wall-mounted height chart, a digital scale, a sink with elbow
taps, and a trolley with various medical paraphernalia, as well as a desk with a blood pressure monitor and other equipment.

  “Please undress and step on the scales.”

  Leah stared at Crystal, wondering if the other woman was joking, but Crystal simply stood waiting with a bright smile on her glossy pink lips. Leah had an overwhelming urge to just turn and walk out, but Angela’s face flashed in her mind again and she set her mouth. Turning, she quickly undressed to her underwear, then stepped onto the scale. She let Crystal measure her height and weight, as well as the circumference of her hips, all the while squirming under the woman’s intense gaze. She could feel Crystal’s eyes roving over her body with clinical appreciation. It made her feel like an insect under a microscope. If this was all a ploy to make the retreat seem even more desirable and exclusive by making potential candidates feel inferior, it was working.

  Finally, after having her blood pressure measured and her skin examined under a UV lamp, Leah got dressed again in relief and was just thinking it was over when Crystal motioned her to the chair next to the desk.

  “Last thing.” The blonde woman smiled, showing her gleaming white teeth. Then she whipped out a syringe and rubber tourniquet. Before Leah realised what was happening, she found her arm extended, the tourniquet wrapped around her bicep, and the needle plunging into her inside elbow. It all happened so fast and was the last thing she’d expected, she barely had time to react before Crystal was untying the tourniquet and pressing a small bandage to the puncture mark.

  “Put pressure on that,” Crystal said airily as she tapped the syringe filled with dark blood, then transferred the contents to a glass vial.

  “What are you doing with that?” demanded Leah, finding her voice.

  “Oh, it’s standard procedure for all our members. It’s a basic health test to make sure your cholesterol and lipid levels are normal, as well as the levels of trace elements such as magnesium, selenium, and phosphate. This helps us in devising supplements for your diet—to make sure that you achieve total body harmony and balance.” Crystal stood up. “There. All done. I will escort you back to reception, Miss Fisher.”