Deirdre began flipping through the dresses, dismissing them with a critical eye. “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. No, no, no. Aha. Here we go.” She pulled out a mustard-yellow frock that appeared to have been cut from a flour sack. Not to mention that yellow really wasn’t Sophia’s favorite color.
“This one, I think,” Deirdre said. “Though, of course, I’ll need to see it on you.”
Forcing a smile, Sophia nodded. She’d seen several lovely blue dresses and even a nice green one. But she didn’t dare question Deirdre’s judgment. Heck, for all she knew, the first wife might have deliberately chosen something unflattering. No matter. Sophia didn’t want to appear pretty around Ezekiel. The uglier, the better.
Everyone stared, clearly waiting. Sophia looked around for a place to change, but there was none.
“Try it on,” Deirdre ordered, clearly expecting Sophia to simply drop the robe and do so. Even with an audience. Despite the massage and other pampering Sophia had received, the attendants had made sure to keep her tastefully covered.
Accepting the dress from an attendant, Sophia turned her back to them and untied her robe. If she maneuvered herself just right, she should be able to slip the thing over her head, let the robe fall to her waist, and end up dressed without showing any excess flesh. Or at least she hoped.
Mostly, that’s what happened. It wasn’t the slightest bit graceful, and she might have flailed about a bit like a catfish on the end of a fishing line, but when she turned around to face Deirdre, she was dressed. Sort of. Her lower legs were bare. Used to dresses that came to the floor, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. To cover, she bent over and picked up the white robe pooled around her feet, forcing a smile.
“That’s very nice,” Deirdre declared.
Of course, Sophia nodded. Contrary to her expectations, the material felt soft and comfortable and the way it hung seemed as if it might be semi-flattering. It was almost the right length, hitting her right below her knees at the calf. Just a little short. She wasn’t sure if she should say she liked it, having a feeling that to do so would ensure Deirdre changing her mind and picking out an even more hideous dress from the rack.
“We need shoes.” The first wife snapped her fingers. Immediately the two women who’d wheeled in the rack of dresses rushed from the room. They returned a moment later carrying several boxes.
“All of these are your size,” Deirdre told Sophia. “Have you ever worn a pair of high heels?”
Slowly, Sophia shook her head, aware Deirdre already knew the answer. Here, every woman was issued the same basic flat-soled shoes, one pair of black, one brown, as well as boots. Sophia had only seen high heels on one of Ezekiel’s female family members. They looked uncomfortable.
“There’s a trick to walking in them.” Was that malice making the older woman’s eyes gleam? Or simple amusement? “But since I’m sure you’ll be required to wear a pair in your wedding, it’s time you learned how.”
Again, Sophia simply nodded.
Deirdre chose a box and held it out to one of the attendants. “Let’s see how she does in these.”
The woman nodded, carrying the shoes over to Sophia. “Please sit, ma’am.” She indicated a small, ornate chair.
Would this never end? Sophia took a seat, careful to move the dress to avoid smashing it. The shoes were brought out—they were black and shiny, with red soles and a dangerous-looking, long-spiked heel. Once they’d been fitted onto Sophia’s feet—a perfect fit—the attendant pushed herself up and held out her hand. “Please stand.”
Eyeing the other woman, Sophia swallowed hard and did exactly that. She wobbled a little bit, but managed to keep her balance, as long as her knees were bent.
Her smile widening, Deirdre crooked her finger. “Walk toward me.”
Sophia wanted to take the shoes off and fling them at the first wife. Reminding herself that soon she’d be escaping from all of this and all of them, she lifted her chin, held her head high and took a step.
Her ankle nearly gave out from under her. Strength of will, she told herself. She could do this.
And so she did. Not neatly, not even with the tiniest degree of skill. She wobbled and weaved, but she crossed the room to stand in front of Deirdre, pleased to note how the shoes made her at least three inches taller.
“Well done.” Again, the older woman’s brittle expression was at odds with her patently false smile. “Let’s see how you do on the walk back to the big house.”
Sophia nearly groaned out loud. She honestly didn’t think she could do it. Already both her ankles and the balls of her feet ached.
“Don’t worry,” Deirdre said, apparently correctly judging Sophia’s apprehension. “You’ll get the hang of it. And it’s a perfect intro for the rest of what’s going to happen tonight.”
Clenching her jaw, Sophia nodded. She knew the other woman’s words were meant to bait her. Despite that, her stomach roiled and she had to clamp her mouth shut to avoid asking a forbidden question.
“Let’s go.” Deirdre strode off without a backward glance.
Tempted to simply stay put, Sophia followed, though much slower.
Outside, she saw Deirdre had already traveled fifty yards. Of course she had, since she had on flat, comfortable shoes.
The heck with it. Sophia kicked off the high heels and picked them up, hurrying after the first wife in her bare feet.
When she caught up with Deidre, at first the first wife’s jaw clenched when she saw what Sophia had done. Her narrow-eyed gaze traveled from Sophia’s dirty feet to the shoes she clutched in one hand.
And then, surprising Sophia, Deirdre laughed. “You’re a resourceful little twit,” she said. “I should be furious, but I actually find you entertaining.”
They continued on. Deirdre did not ask Sophia to put the shoes back on, so she didn’t.
When they reached the big house, they went through the front gate and into the garden. “I keep a little place back here,” Deirdre informed her. “It’s mine and mine alone. Ezekiel built it for me when we were first married. No one else is allowed entrance except by my invitation. We hold the new wife initiation ceremonies here.”
New wife initiation? Not sure she liked the sound of that, Sophia hurried after Deirdre. They traveled through vine-covered trellises, well-tended flower beds full of riotous color and trees. Finally, at the back of the garden near the boundary wall, a small cottage sat. Unlike all the residences inside the compound, this structure had been built from wood and painted a beautiful pale blue.
Inside, Sophia could hear a chorus of voices, all of them feminine. She hesitated, earning a sideways look from Deirdre.
“Come on,” Deirdre said, not bothering to hide her impatience. “We all have to go through this, so don’t worry. Well, everyone went through this except me. I was first, so I’m the one who came up with this idea.”
Noting the other woman hadn’t said it was fun, Sophia exhaled and took a step forward. “It’s still afternoon,” she said, trying to stall. “Don’t you want to wait until dark?”
“No. We do nothing after dark, because that’s when Ezekiel looks for us. We need daylight, no shadows to hide in, so we stay safe.”
Safe. Another interesting word. “I see,” Sophia said, even though she didn’t.
“First, put your shoes back on,” Deirdre ordered. “Then keep your head high and your shoulders back. It’s not wise to let them sense your fear.”
Fear. Great.
Deirdre opened the door, beckoning Sophia to precede her. Sophia stepped into a brightly lit room full of women, all of them staring at her.
* * *
“Do you think I could have a look at the kids’ files?” Jack asked, helping Rachel organize some folders.
“Files?” she asked, frowning.
“Yes. I’m
assuming you have files on each student, right?”
Eyes wide and cautious, she gave a slow nod. “Well, yes, we do. But I’m not sure if you’re allowed to view them.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He kept his tone reasonable. “I’m a therapist trying to help them. There might be information in there that can help me break through.”
She considered. “I might need to check with my boss.”
“The principal?”
“The what?” She peered at him, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Maybe you call it something else here. The person in charge of all the teachers and the entire school.”
“My boss.”
Okay, so they didn’t have a name. “Who is your boss?” he asked, figuring it would be someone higher up in the ranks like Thomas.
“Her name is Yvonne. She’s very busy, but she takes orders directly from Thomas and Ezekiel.”
“Good. Then ask her, please. Since Thomas is the one who brought me here and hired me to do therapy, I’m sure he won’t have any problem with me viewing the files.”
Considering him, Rachel nodded. “We’ll see,” she said.
Right before lunch, while the children were busy writing a descriptive story, Rachel motioned him to her desk. “I couldn’t reach Yvonne, but I thought about what you said and it makes sense. You’re the official therapist, so of course you should be able to access the children’s records. We’ll stop by the shared computer room after we have our noon meal. My time is always the last ten minutes before classes resume in the afternoon.”
“Ten minutes? That’s all you get?”
“Yes.” She eyed him. “We don’t do much on the computer, except for entering grades into a spreadsheet. Is ten minutes not long enough for you?”
“It will have to be.” He kept his voice casual. “I’ll just have to read fast.”
“Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem. The files are not very large.”
He wondered if he was about to be completely disappointed.
He’d brought his lunch—a sandwich and some of Phillip’s homemade macaroni salad. He scarfed it down, nearly unable to contain his eagerness.
Rachel noticed him trying not to fidget in his chair and grinned. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“Is it time already?”
His feigned surprise made her laugh. “It is. I sure hope you’re able to find something helpful.”
“So am I, Rachel. So am I.”
They left the lunchroom and walked down a long hallway, their footsteps echoing on the linoleum floors. “Here we are,” she chirped, unlocking the door to a small room. Inside was a folding metal table and an ancient computer with a huge, old monitor.
“I hope it’s on,” she remarked. “If not, sometimes it takes forever to come up.”
He hoped so, too. He didn’t want to waste the entire ten minutes waiting.
Luckily, the last user had left it on. Rachel logged in and waited. “Here we are,” she said. “I’ve accessed the record.”
At his direction, she opened Benjamin’s file first. Once she’d pulled it up, she vacated the chair and motioned for him to take a seat. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Gingerly he began to scroll through the document. He didn’t even mind that Rachel stood directly behind him, watching his every move.
There was a plethora of information on the boy. His nightmares and communication problems had begun in early childhood, when he was two years old. Try as he might, Jack couldn’t find any information prior to that.
He turned in his chair to ask Rachel.
“That’s weird,” she said, reading over his shoulder. “That would make this an incomplete record.”
Meeting her gaze, he nodded. She knew what he was thinking, but didn’t dare say it out loud, just in case anyone might be listening.
Theodore’s and Samantha’s files were similar, only Theodore’s started at age four and Samantha’s at three.
“Can you pull up one more child—a random one who’s not having any problems?” Jack asked. “I just want to make sure they’re not all like this.”
“Sure.” She keyed in another name. When the records came up, the observation started at the age of two months, stating the child had been a happy, active baby. There were several more notations such as the age when the child had first crawled and also walked. Every lost tooth was noted, along with sicknesses and recoveries.
“They’re radically different.” Eyes wide, Rachel appeared shocked. Then, just for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping, she cleared her throat. “I’ll mention this to my supervisor. Clearly there’s some glitch in the system.”
“Clearly,” he drawled. As far as he was concerned, this was a pretty strong indicator that the three children had been brought in from outside. Not yet proof—he had to believe that would come later, with DNA testing, after the child had told his or her story.
Now he just needed to get one of them to talk. If he could just find the right words so they’d open up. Luckily, he’d scheduled two of their meetings in the afternoon. The boys—Benjamin and Theodore. He’d met with Samantha in the morning and hadn’t learned anything new. He had high hopes of doing better now that he knew what age to focus on with each of them.
True to the previous attempts, Benjamin sat sullen, refusing to answer any questions or to acknowledge Jack’s presence. Until Jack brought up what he’d learned from reviewing Ben’s records.
“Tell me one thing you remember happening when you were one or two,” Jack asked. Since Ben’s records started at two, he hoped going back a year might jog the kid’s memory.
Though Ben darted a quick glance at Jack, he still didn’t respond.
“Now most people don’t remember anything much before they were three or four,” Jack continued. “And you might be like that, too, I don’t know. But sometimes we have one or two flashes of something. A memory that meant a lot to us but nobody else.” Careful not to reveal his anticipation, he waited.
Still, Ben didn’t speak.
Jack sighed. “I guess you didn’t have any flashes of memory. That’s okay, we’ll work on—”
“I did,” Ben interrupted. “More than one. But I’m not sure I want to tell them to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll punish me. I’m not stupid. I’ve made that mistake before.” The boy spoke with force, pushing the words out with a vehemence that reminded Jack once again of where they were.
“You can’t take them away from me,” Ben continued. “No matter what you do. She was my mommy and I loved her.” His eyes widened and he clamped his lips together as if he meant to keep anything else from spilling out.
“I had a mommy, too,” Jack said softly, his heart aching. “And I loved her very much. She was always there for me. I miss her to this day.”
Now a flash of interest gleamed in the child’s eyes. “Did they take you away from her, too?”
Aha. Something concrete. Aware he needed to be extremely careful as to how he reacted, Jack looked down. This gave him time to gather his thoughts. He hesitated to speak the truth—his mother had died from cancer—because doing so might make Ben shut down even more.
Instead he deflected the question back to the boy. “Did someone take you from your mom?”
Ben looked away, no doubt fearful of the repercussions that usually followed him declaring something like this.
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Jack said. “And I won’t let anything happen to you for telling me the truth.” He prayed he could keep his vow.
But clearly Benjamin didn’t trust him that much. “I’d like to go back to class now,” he said. “Don’t you need to talk to Theodore?”
Jack stood, both disappointed and amused at the way the kid man
aged to deflect. “Sure, you can go back. Just remember, though, I’m from outside, too.” The too was deliberate. “I understand better than anyone else what you’re going through.”
Again Ben cut his eyes to Jack, then toward the bench. Jack suddenly realized that maybe the boy was trying to tell him something. Like the possibility that if he’d look underneath the bench, he might find some sort of listening device.
Heart pounding, Jack led the way inside. When he got out there with Theodore, he’d have to figure out a way to check.
Five minutes later, as he marched outside to start his final session of the day, Jack pretended to trip just before he reached the bench. He landed a few feet from it and crawled forward slightly so he could get a good look.
He saw nothing. Aware that there could be cameras watching him, he slowly climbed back to his feet and made a show out of clutching his knee. “That hurt,” he said cheerfully to Theodore. “That’s what I get for being so clumsy.”
Theodore smiled. Jack hobbled over to the bench and took a seat, patting the spot next to him. He’d need to be careful. Just because he hadn’t found anything that looked like a listening device didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
Still, he said the exact same thing he’d said to Benjamin, except modifying the age to three. Theodore, always a talker, began ruminating about some bright yellow toy truck he’d gotten at Christmas, how Santa had left it under the tree, and how much he’d loved it.
It took Jack a few seconds to realize what the boy had said. As far as he knew, COE didn’t celebrate Christmas—or any holiday for that matter. And he’d yet to see a single toy truck—or any toys, actually.
“You remember Christmas?” Jack asked, keeping his tone casual.
Theodore nodded. “Oh, yes. And the Christmas tree, with all the lights and sparkly decorations. Mom let me help hang them up, too. My favorite was—” Eyes widening, he broke off with a quick gasp. “You can’t tell anyone I said that. Talking about stuff like before only gets me in trouble.”
Wyoming Undercover Page 17
