“She didn’t kill herself. I can’t explain how he convinced everyone here that she did it, but she didn’t. All that crap about never talking about suicides . . . ”
“That part’s probably true. Cults have languages of their own. It’s a portion of what ties people into the group, makes it so hard for them to even envision leaving.”
“Fine. So they have a creepy way of referring to people who kill themselves. And maybe they all believe that’s what she did. But I don’t.”
“Tara, face it: You only knew this woman a couple of months. She joined the Chosen of her own free will, even you admit that. So there was something peculiar about her.”
“She liked the idea of living off the land, of making a difference in the world. There’s nothing peculiar about that. Yes, she could be moody, and maybe an overly cautious shrink would have diagnosed her as bipolar, but her depressions were never very serious. She thought being part of something bigger than herself would help her. If it hadn’t, if she felt worse instead of better, she would have just left.”
“You’re certain.”
“Absolutely.”
She was completely convinced. Whether he believed or not made no difference—he’d never get her to leave until she knew what had happened. And ever since he’d found out about the cameras, he’d known he could never leave her alone inside the compound. “Okay,” he said. “I’m in.”
“In?”
“We stay until we figure out what happened. And given that, I should tell you that, last night at dinner, I saw an old acquaintance . . . ”
• • •
As she listened to Jake’s story about seeing a man he recognized among the Chosen at his introduction dinner, Tara tried to match Jake’s description to one of the Chosen. Jake knew the man as Kevin Reasoner, a seasoned DEA agent.
“So maybe Andrea discovered that the Chosen are into drugs, and that’s why Stephenson killed her.”
“If he killed her—and I’m not convinced he did—and if Kevin is here on a job, then yeah, it’s a possibility. Remember, he probably took one look at me and assumed the FBI had an eye on Stephenson, which they don’t. Until I can talk to him alone, I can’t say for sure he’s on assignment.”
“Dammit.” Tara scuffed the dirt. “I hate the uncertainty.”
“I can relate. Where do most of the men work during the afternoons? Maybe we could walk in that direction after lunch, see if we can find him. I don’t know what name he’s going by here. He wouldn’t have used his own name to join, and they’d have changed it even if he did.”
“Three separate names to keep track of. Undercover work takes a special kind.” She hadn’t bothered to change anything but her last name when she left Dobbs Hollow. But then, she hadn’t been looking for criminals, just for herself.
“It does indeed.”
“Everyone scatters for chores, though. Since we walked out behind the house yesterday, shall we try heading toward the berry patch? Though I think berry picking is usually women’s work. There are the greenhouses and the drying sheds, but the greenhouses are too far, and we have no reason for us to be in the drying sheds. It’s funny—I don’t see the men much during the day. I hadn’t thought about that before. I believe several of them are framing out a new cabin on the far end of the bunkhouses. We could go there.”
“Sounds good. But for now we should probably head in for lunch.” He led the way. “I’d like to meet up with Kevin in a casual way so people see us getting to know each other. Otherwise, I have no idea how we’ll arrange it, since he’s not in my bunk. This way at least we have an excuse to talk to each other at dinner and such.”
“There is some free time. You’re supposed to use it, of course, but we get Sunday afternoons off. It’s when the artsy types do their thing.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m learning to knit. Not very well, mind you, but it gives me a chance to talk to the women.”
“Interesting.”
“It’s the only socialization you get. It’s where you learn the rules, where you learn about the Powers and the Leader. Once you’re over the age of fifteen, and out of their school, there’s no real education here.”
“Okay. Jason Norman isn’t exactly the crafty type. You said the women knit; what do the men do?”
“Well, no. Not all the women knit, but all the knitters are women. There are quilters, woodworkers, artists in all media. I think it’s also when the fancier cooks do their cooking.”
“Can’t see Jason doing much of that, either. The man’s a total geek.”
“Hey, watch your mouth. Tara Jean Black fell for this guy. He had to have some good qualities. And I’ve known plenty of geeks who were fabulous cooks.”
“Yeah, well, I can burn water, so that’s out. Maybe I’ll volunteer to check out the Leader’s computers on Sunday. Streamline the Chosen’s website.”
As well as selling their goods locally, the Chosen shipped them across country. John, Tara had learned when she and Andrea first visited, had supervised the website and packed and shipped items people bought. The sago palms they grew were particularly popular.
“He might go for that. It would be great if you could get a look at his computers.”
“If the guy’s smart, and he is, he won’t have anything incriminating on the computer he lets me see. But it will give me freedom in the house, and that’s something.”
• • •
Tara followed Jake back to the main house, where they were escorted back to the infirmary by one of the goons at the front door, who didn’t want them wandering around unsupervised. Tara had asked Joy about the guards at one point, and the woman had told her that the government had tried to kill the Leader, so he kept those of the Chosen with military or law enforcement training as guards. Tara believed that like she believed in the tooth fairy.
Joy, however, seemed convinced by the story. When Tara pretended shock and fear that government agents might try again, might harm the Chosen in a raid, Joy assured her that the men had snuck in for an assassination attempt, only threatened by the Leader, not by the Chosen.
She could only imagine Jake’s response to such a story.
Once again, Deborah brought them lunch. Jake tried to engage her in conversation, but the woman shut him down, citing the need to get to the dining hall before prayers. Nor did she return to retrieve the trays. Instead, the pregnant woman they’d seen cleaning the previous day came to pick them up. What did Deborah do when the infirmary was empty, and how had she earned so much freedom? She looked to be in her late twenties, close in age to Owen himself. Had she been a part of the group when his father had been in charge? Might she have administered the drugs Owen needed to simulate the heart attack that had allegedly killed Stephenson senior?
She wished she could ask Jake, but if they were looking for his DEA friend, they’d have to stay within the area surveilled by cameras. And despite his assurances that he would help her, she could still feel his doubts. He’d probably scoff at the idea that Deborah had earned a spot in the main house by
helping to murder Owen’s father.
She and Jake took a meandering route toward the bunks. They stopped to visit the berry patch first, where three women wearing long sleeves to protect themselves from thorns plucked raspberries and strawberries.
“Hot for that,” Jake remarked.
“It’s not that bad,” said Tara. “Believe me, I’d rather deal with thorns than beaks. If I never have to go back to collecting eggs it will be too soon.”
They heard the sounds of construction as they rounded the bunkhouses. About a dozen men measured, held, sawed, hammered, and generally stood around looking masculine. Tara had to admit, the sight impressed her. These guys worked out in the fields, not in gyms, and the Chosen never got junk food, so a fair number of muscles were on display. Still, none of them turned h
er on like the brief glimpse she’d had of Jake’s lean body fresh from the shower, or the feel of his arms around her as they lay in bed.
She shut the door firmly on the memory.
“Is he here?” she asked quietly as they stood about thirty feet from the group and watched them.
“Up top. Dark hair.”
“Oh yeah. Here they call him Caleb. I’ve met him a couple of times.”
Three men stood at various places on the top of the framed rectangle of the building, hammering trusses into place. The work would be boring and backbreaking since it was all done by hand, but at least the weather was cooperating.
“Hey, y’all,” Jake called out. Several of the men looked up from their work. Although they appeared mildly surprised to see Tara and Jake, they didn’t evince the same shock as those working in the house had.
Jake walked up to one of the men and introduced himself and Tara. The man, a tall, thickset brunet, introduced himself as Tobias. When Jake asked if he could help in any way, Tobias shrugged and told him to jump in wherever he felt comfortable. Rather than heading toward Caleb straightaway, Jake introduced himself to a couple other men. Tara understood the tactic, but still her frustration grew.
Tobias asked her if she’d like any water. She accepted a glass from the large canteen set up on the back of a pickup, then sat next to the canteen to watch the men work. The Leader had sent her out with a saw to deal with the branch caught in the fence, but none of these men would even consider letting her at their tools. She bet she could outshoot every one of them, with the possible exceptions of Jake and Caleb. She was a damned good marksman, so odds were she could even take them.
Too bad that wasn’t a skill prized by the Chosen. At least among women.
Jake approached two men who stood at the corner of two of the walls. He chose them because he figured he could do nothing to help them and they’d send him on up Caleb’s way. He was right. After asking whether he could handle himself on the beams, one of them handed him a hammer and pointed out the ladder at the back of the structure.
At first, Jake couldn’t even be sure Reasoner recognized him. The man didn’t so much as blink when Jake introduced himself.
“Caleb,” he said.
“What are we building and how can I help?”
“Couples housing. Take this end and attach it over there.” As Jake began to hammer, Reasoner caught his eye. “This your assignment from the Leader?”
Jake translated: FBI operation? and answered accordingly. “No, I don’t have an assignment today.”
“Well, we can always use the help. Maybe you can get assigned to our crew for a while.” Reasoner’s eyes shifted to where Tara leaned against the truck. “Your girlfriend—or whatever the outside world is calling them these days—partner?”
“All of the above,” Jake said. “We can just go with ‘mine’.” The words struck him as fundamentally right, truer than anything he’d said publicly since entering the compound. Reasoner lowered his voice. “Keep her close.” Raised it again. “Maybe you guys will be in couples housing yourselves soon.”
“How does that work?” Jake moved slightly away and began to hammer another beam into place.
“Well, once the Leader sanctions a relationship and it is formalized in front of the community, you can move out of the bunkhouses. The couples units are two bedrooms with a shared bathroom. So two couples live together.”
So even private housing wasn’t truly private. No real surprise. Still, it would be easier to get out at night for a good look around sharing with only one other couple than sharing with five guys. Or, in Tara’s case, with eleven other women.
“My girl and I live over there.” Reasoner gestured toward one of the smaller dwellings. “Tobias and Astrid were living with us, but Astrid passed while giving birth, so he moved back to the bunkhouses.”
“And your girlfriend? What’s her name?”
“Bea. She mostly works in the kitchens. She was given to me by the Leader when already four months pregnant.” Reasoner moved to a new position. “You’ll find life among the Chosen is much less stressful than what you had before. In the outside world, I fought all the time. Here we work together.”
Jake figured Jason Norman, even post-purification, wouldn’t be quite so accepting. “You don’t mind raising some other guy’s kid?”
“Children are blessings from the Powers. They don’t belong to any individual. Bea’s child will be raised with the others, after which Bea will move back into the regular roster of duties with the other women.”
Very damn convenient if you were Owen Stephenson and given to impregnating your followers. Claim the kid belonged to the whole community, that no father had to take responsibility, and all the women went around feeling blessed rather than used. He glanced down at Tara, who had wandered a little ways from the truck, and a sudden surge of protectiveness nearly knocked him off the beam. He was going to bring down this damned den of plague dogs and then he was taking her back to civilization.
Jake had played a part in grinding Tara down. He was going to play a part in building her back up.
As he watched, Jonas approached Tara and leaned in close as he spoke to her. Jake could see the tension in her shoulders as she held herself in place, kept herself from flinching. Jonas had been among those who had taken her for purification. What had happened to her in the darkness of that cell? His fingers clenched so tightly about the nails he held that, before he realized what was happening, one of the other men shouted that he was bleeding.
“Damn. Guess I’m not ready to be doing construction yet,” Jake said, passing the nails to the man who’d come to his side and swinging down off the frame of the house.
“Are you okay?” Tara took his hand and ran her finger across the bloody gouge.
“Yup. You know me.” He gave Jonas his most earnest look. “If I am focused on a computer, the rest of the world disappears. Otherwise, I am kind of an airhead. Too bad the Chosen don’t have any use for a programmer.”
“You will find your place. For the moment, it would be best not to overdo. Tomorrow after breakfast you will rejoin the others, and tomorrow evening you will return to your bunks. Serena, you will remain in the laundry in the mornings for the next cycle. In the afternoons, you will join those repairing the bed linens. It is not strenuous work. Joy will show you what to do.”
Jake couldn’t imagine a job less suited to Tara’s temperament. Lucy had told him long before he’d met Tara how she’d been a crusader since childhood. A girl—and then a woman—of action, constantly striving to make things better for others.
“And me?”
“You will be working in the drying sheds in the morning. Aaron will show you the ropes.”
“Drying sheds?”
“The Chosen sell dried herbs and potpourri,” Tara explained. “The flowers that don’t sell in town get hung in bunches to be turned into potpourri. We also make soaps and small batches of essential oils.
It’s all organic. The income from the sale of those things helps to pay for the community’s needs.”
“I see.”
What he saw—what he expected Tara saw as well—was that the compound abutted the border to Mexico, where one very specific kind of “herb” was grown and dried for sale. Was that what Kevin Reasoner was investigating? Did the DEA suspect the Chosen of being involved with the cartels?
• • •
THEY WERE ASSIGNING Jake to the sheds. Tara had wondered about them—it was impossible not to with a law enforcement background—but only men worked there, so she’d had no way in. She’d never had a chance to look at the shipping operation, either. According to Andrea, that had been John’s purview. But John was gone, so who oversaw shipping now? And why did she never hear anyone being assigned to help?
Of course, John had lived at the main house. Maybe the pregnant women
who worked inside on “light duty” tasks packaged up the Chosen’s products. Nothing they sent out was particularly heavy or bulky.
“And what about in the afternoon?” Jake asked Jonas.
“The Leader has not given me your afternoon assignment yet.”
Of course not. Too much security in knowing what tomorrow would bring. But Jake merely nodded, his anxious geek persona firmly in place.
“Sure. Whatever I can do.”
Jonas left and Tara felt her muscles relax. Damn. She’d been trying so hard to stay calm, stay loose, even though the minute she’d seen the man approaching, her mind had flashed back to his greedy eyes watching her undress in the shed. And he’d wanted her to remember, too. He’d taken his own sweet time surveying her as he walked over.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Jake said, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Let’s get moving and leave these guys to their work.”
Once they were out of range, Tara expected Jake to let her go, but he didn’t. Instead, his arm tightened around her as he paused, turning her to face him.
“What did he do to you?”
“Who?”
“Jonas. In isolation.”
Naturally he had noticed. He was, after all, a trained observer.
“He didn’t do anything. He just gives me the creeps.”
Jake flashed her a grin. “Everyone in this place gives me the creeps.” Serious again, he tipped her chin up so she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “But it’s more than that with him.”
Tara swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she recalled Jonas’s behavior in the shed. “He got off on it. The punishment. For the others, it was duty. They were just following the Leader’s orders. But he enjoyed the whole process: the stripping, the humiliation; it gave him a thrill.”
A muscle flexed in Jake’s jaw and anger flashed darkly in his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before replying. “Nice. So the Chosen are a power trip for Jonas. Not terribly surprising to find a man like that among the top echelon. I wonder what the others get out of it?
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