by Rex Burns
“Of course!” Her smile, unforced now, reached her blue eyes, and there was no denying the pleasure that radiated from her. “These people are like family—better than family. There’s none of the … the past that keeps hanging on and making everything so tense.”
I raised the sash. The steady traffic noise filled the room. Then I leaned against the wall beside the window and beckoned her closer. “Has your mother been an alcoholic for a long time?”
The smile left her eyes and she nodded. “As long as I can remember. Dad pretends she isn’t but she is.”
“Since before or after David Gates’s death?”
The question was like a slap and the young woman stiffened, poised on the edge of something. I wasn’t sure if she was going to stay or run. When she finally spoke, it was after a long, tense stillness. “Before. Since I was a child. Then it got much worse.” But her mind wasn’t on her mother.
“What can you tell me about that, Dori?”
“He—it was an accident.”
“You told your mother it was a sacrifice. And that you were responsible.”
She didn’t answer. Any animation that had brightened her face was gone now. “I thought you were looking for me. I thought Mom and Dad wanted you to find out if I was all right.”
“That’s true. But David Gates is part of it, isn’t he?” I kept my voice beneath the background clatter of the cars and occasional motorcycle. If the room was bugged, the noise should bury our words. “Where’s Dwayne?”
“He went back.”
“To San Diego?”
She nodded.
“Is he coming back here?”
She nodded again.
“What did he have to do with David’s death?”
“Please … that’s over—it’s over and we’ve found peace. Please!”
“You and Dwayne have found peace?”
“Yes! That’s what’s so wonderful about the Temple. About Pastor Pettes … this place is a refuge, a sanctuary. Everyone here had burdens, that’s why they came. Now the burdens are no more!”
But David Gates was nonetheless dead, and the statute of limitations on murder never ran out. Even in California. I studied the girl for a long moment, unsure of the kind of person I looked at. Her mother had called her “delicate,” and psychic bruises still lurked deep in the girl’s eyes. But now she claimed to have found some kind of peace, some kind of denial or walling off of the past. “What about Jerry Hawley’s suicide? What did Dwayne have to do with that?”
Her fingers twisted against themselves as she pressed her hands to her stomach. “I don’t know.”
“He helped Jerry decide, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know!”
“Dorcas, are you pregnant?”
“I’m Dori, not Dorcas! Please—I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Leave me alone!”
“Wait—just a minute. Hold it, Dori. Please don’t leave.”
“You’re upsetting me!” She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, each a little longer and slower. “You’re violating the balance.”
“Take your time.” I spoke to her as if talking to a frightened colt or a mind that teetered. “Take your time—easy, now. I’m not going to hurt you, Dori, or make you come back.” I waited until she was back in control. “Dwayne told you he wanted to leave the Kabbal, is that it? That he wanted to get rid of his burden, too?”
Eyes closed and head tilted back, she nodded.
“And you believe him?”
She kept her eyes closed but there was no doubt in her voice. “Yes.”
“He’s the father of your baby?”
“… Yes …”
“And the baby is your bond? Your commitment to each other?”
She nodded, the tension coming back in the taut cords of her neck.
I changed tack. “Did you visit the lodge near Ward?”
Her eyes opened, puzzled. “You know about that, too?”
“It’s a nice place. Peaceful.”
The smile of serenity came back. “Yes.”
“Did you stay there long?”
“Just overnight. But Dwayne said—” She stopped abruptly, cautious.
“Dwayne said you could come back sometime?”
“Yes.” She added, “I’ve always loved the mountains.”
“That was where Dwayne told you to meet him? Where you drove to meet him?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing there?”
“Seeking. Like me. Like all of us, even you. Whether you know it or not.”
I knew it. And now I had a pretty good idea what for. “He told you that Pettes and the Temple released him from his burden?”
“Pastor Pettes. Yes.”
“Who’s Shirley?”
Dori looked puzzled. “Shirley?”
“The girl Dwayne mentioned in his letter.”
“His letter?” She frowned. “Oh, you found it in my cabin?”
“Yes. Looking for you.”
“It’s Shirley Graham—we went to Oxy together. She joined the Temple and moved up to the lodge before I came here. I haven’t seen her yet.”
“She’s one of the caretakers up there?”
“Caretakers? Oh, you mean Sam and Darlene. No …” She halted and put two fingers to her mouth. “I said the word.”
“What word?”
“ ‘No.’ The Pastor wants us to think of all the times we say ‘no.’ All the times we deny ourselves and others and the world by saying ‘no.’ ” She wagged her head. “I never realized before how much I was keeping from myself with that word.”
“Shirley’s not a caretaker?”
“She’s a seeker, too. But she got to move up to the lodge—she was chosen to go on retreat.”
I thought that over. “You didn’t see her when you were up there with Dwayne?”
“No. She was on a trip. Back East to see her folks.”
“Dwayne told you so?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you trust Dwayne so much, Dori?”
“We’ve been … we’ve seen a lot together. We’ve shared things. …”
“And you’re sure he’s no longer a Satanist?”
“Yes. He told me and I believe him. He has things—we both have things we need forgiveness for. We’re both seeking … balance.” She added in a rush, “We’ve both found the Shining Spirit!”
I tried to catch a hint of falsity in expression or voice, but there was none. Knowing what the answer would be, I tried anyway. “Will you come back with me?”
“You said—”
“It’s just a question, Dori.”
Her head gave a determined shake. “I’m happy here. For the first time in my life, I’ve found a place where I feel totally at rest. These people are my family now. My spiritual sisters and brothers. My spiritual family.”
“And you don’t intend to see your parents again?”
“Oh, yes! Of course I do. But I want to … to anchor myself first. I want to fill my soul with the peace and lightness and joy that the Temple holds.” A gentle smile as her hands went unconsciously to her stomach. “Please tell Mom and Dad that I’m truly, truly happy. I’ll call them—not right away; I don’t want to start a hassle—it’s too soon. I know exactly what my father would say if I called. But I will write.”
“Can I tell them you’re pregnant?”
Hesitantly she finally shrugged. “I don’t want them to come see me. My baby—our baby—is a sacrament.”
“A bond with Dwayne.”
“Yes. A bond.”
“I’ll tell them.”
She bowed over prayerful hands. “Good-bye, Mr. Steele. May the Shining Spirit bless you.”
CHAPTER 20
I WAS CERTAIN Pettes had known who I was before I introduced myself. I couldn’t imagine that Sam the caretaker hadn’t telephoned from the lodge after escorting me off the ranch. Possibly Dorcas had been warned and rehearsed in what to say, too, though I was less certain of
that. The catch phrases she spouted were shared by the group, and while she might evade, she didn’t seem to be lying. Though I didn’t know Dorcas well enough to be sure about that, I wanted to believe it. What I was surer of was Dwayne Vengley’s hypocrisy. But what he was doing it for, I could only guess. And I didn’t like what I guessed.
The question wasn’t whether evil existed—we quickly discover it in others. The more honest discover it in themselves as well, and gain respect for its subtlety and persistence. But with Dorcas and especially with Vengley, the real question concerned its self-directed malignancy. It was an aspect which, like many, I admitted as possible but had a hard time believing in. I preferred to define evil as an absence: an absence of reason, an absence of empathy for others, of the Golden Rule. An absence, even, of self-respect. But just suppose that, rather than being the causes of evil, those absences were manifestations of an active force? What if that force did not merely fill voids but consciously assaulted the good? What if, rather than being self-deluded victims of empty magical formulae, the cult members did share the literal spirit of Satan—or, collectively, created that spirit?
The steady downward glide of the airplane made me yawn to relieve the pressure on my ears. Restless passengers craned toward the windows with the knowledge that they would be landing soon. I had telephoned the admiral and Margaret after leaving the Temple, telling them I’d located Dorcas and she seemed well and happy. The admiral didn’t say much, but I heard relief in his voice as he told me he’d be eager to hear about it in detail. Margaret, voice only slightly slurred this early in the day, was ecstatic and said she would call Henry at work and give him the good news. She had a lot of questions, she said, but they could wait until I got back to San Diego.
I had questions, too, but I wasn’t certain I would share them with anyone. Given the probability that Dwayne had lied to Dorcas, the obvious reason was to get her to the Temple. Why? Was the fetus to be used in the kind of sacrifice Lieutenant Broadbeck had told me about? The place seemed to be a home for pregnant women. Sister Rhona was almost at full term and it didn’t seem possible they would abort a baby that close to delivery. But what if it were so? What if such sickening things were really happening? How to prove it? How to convince Dorcas of the danger she was in? How to stop it?
And what did I do about the Gates death? Easy enough to let it pass. Everyone, including the boy’s mother, was satisfied he had died in an accident. Reexamining it would stir up tremendous pain for a lot of people, and accomplish what? The reassertion of an abstract sense of justice? That abstraction had value—I’d served and suffered for it and believed in it. But would the truth lead to justice? If so, what kind? And would it be worth the cost to those already victimized once?
Those and other questions made me as anxious as the rest of the passengers. But my anxiety wasn’t resolved when the plane landed. It remained as I cleared the traffic around the airport and headed over the neck of Point Loma for La Jolla.
Nor did it go after telling Henry and Margaret about Dorcas and the Temple.
“Well,” Henry walked me to the door, “the admiral said if anybody could find her, you could do it. I guess he was right.” The man straightened a bit to look me in the eyes. “I want you to know I’m grateful, Jack. So is Margaret. You’ll be sure to send me a list of the expenses and any additional costs you may have incurred?”
Behind us, Margaret stared at the lights of the swimming pool. Despite the sadness in her eyes, I had seen relief, too. Her daughter was alive. Even if she was still trying to find something that Margaret had been unable to provide, even if the emptiness that had been her own had been shifted over to her daughter and driven her to this … this cult called the Temple of whatever. At least she was alive. I had said her daughter was happy, too. Mixed news, that. Margaret’s expression, loosened by the celebratory drinks, showed a conflict between joy at learning of her daughter’s contentment and sadness and even resentment that the happiness was something Margaret had been unable to provide.
“There’s a little more, Henry. I didn’t want to say it in front of Margaret. Dorcas is pregnant.”
“What? For God’s sake … ! Well, she’ll have to come home. That’s all there is to it.”
“She wants to stay, Henry.”
“That’s irrelevant! She’s been brainwashed by those damned drum thumpers!” He sagged against the doorway. “How far along is she? Will she consider an abortion?”
“She wants to keep the child.”
“She’s too goddamned young to know what that means—”
“And she doesn’t want to come back. Not right now, anyway.”
His breath hissed through pinched nostrils. “Who’s the father? Did she say who the goddamn father is?”
“Dwayne Vengley.”
“Dwayne?” He blinked. “I thought she wasn’t seeing him anymore! Is he in this Temple thing? What about marriage? How in the hell—”
“I don’t think they’re getting married soon. But Dorcas sees the child as a bond between her and Dwayne and the Temple.”
“A bond—Jesus, it’s a bond all right. A hell of a lot more bond than that young lady realizes. It’s goddamned obvious she’s playing house and doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing!” He pushed away from the bricks. “But by God there are people … I’ve heard of people who—what do they call it?—deprogram. There are people who can take her whether she wants to leave or not.”
“That’s called kidnapping.”
“What did Dwayne Vengley and those Temple people do? What did they do if it’s not kidnapping?”
“Apparently invited her to visit, which she did of her own free will. And now she wants to stay.” I let that sink in. “I suspect Dorcas doesn’t leave the Temple very often, and then only when she’s accompanied by others. And even if you did manage to kidnap her, my guess is she’d head right back to them at the first opportunity.”
“Well what the hell am I supposed to do? What the hell do I tell Margaret?”
“You know better than I do how much you can tell her. As far as what you do, I’m not sure. Dorcas is an adult and she has a legal right to live her own life.”
“Ruin it, you mean!”
That, too, but there was no sense saying it. “I asked you earlier about Dorcas and David Gates.”
“What’s that got to do with all this?”
“That’s why she’s at the Temple. She feels guilty about it. And she thinks Vengley feels guilty, too.”
The man studied my face. “What are you trying to say, Steele?”
“It’s possible that she and Vengley and the other girls were dabbling in the occult and that they killed Gates for a sacrifice.”
“No!”
“That’s what she believes. And if it is true, she could face a murder charge.”
Henry groaned and pressed the back of his head against the wall. “If that did happen—and I don’t believe it for one instant—but if it did, it wasn’t her fault—she’d never even think of a thing like that!”
“If she didn’t, perhaps Vengley did.”
“Oh … oh, I see. Oh, shit.” He stared away into the darkness where a distant, closed car passed on a quiet street. “Steele, I know I haven’t been the kind of father I should have been. Sometimes at night, I’ve thanked God I only had one child to screw up.” His hand wagged vaguely. “There have been reasons—it’s not all my fault alone. But I’ve made enough mistakes. And there’s no going back, is there? It’s too late to do things over, isn’t it?”
I said nothing; Henry had said it all.
“Is there any way we can convince her to come home?”
“I don’t know. And if she does, she may have to find some way to compensate for the Gates thing.”
“Well, we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get there. If what you say is possible—if Dori believes it, anyway—Vengley’s the last one she should be with. She needs our help, Steele.” He paused at the doorway before going in. “By Go
d, I’ll see what I can find out about deprogrammers, too!”
I swung by the Combses’ house after leaving Henry and made my report to the admiral. I also added my suspicions about Vengley and about satanic sacrifices.
“Jack.” Jenny clutched her coffee cup with both hands and their quiver could be seen from where I sat across the room. “We have to get her out of there!”
“What about the police, Jack? We can ask them to raid that damned temple.”
“Not without a warrant, admiral. So far there’s no evidence of a crime, so no cause for a warrant.”
“But they’re goddamned Satanists—devil worshipers!”
“Protected by the First Amendment.”
“Bullshit!”
“Dalton, listen to what Jack’s telling us.”
“The Denver police might be interested in the Temple. They might even poke around a little if the San Diego PD asks them to. But they can’t do anything without evidence of criminal activity, admiral. Even devil worshipers have civil rights, provided they don’t violate the law.”
“Then what can we do, Jack?”
“I think the key is Vengley. If we prove to Dorcas that he lied to her about leaving the Satanists, I think she’ll come home on her own.”
Jenny spoke again. “But she’s in danger—the baby …”
“Jack, we have to get the girl out of there as soon as possible. Even if this Pastor Pettes isn’t a Satanist, you’re right about Vengley—he lied to Dori. We may not know why, but we all feel it’s wrong for her to trust the boy. We’ve got to find out what’s going on, and she’s got to be protected.”
Everyone was stealing my lines. By the time I pulled into my garage, I hadn’t come up with anything original in answer to the urgency of the situation. The only plan, if it could be called that, had to do with Vengley. But without police authority, I had no leverage—no threat of arrest, no promise of a deal—to coerce his friends into telling me where he was or what he was up to. The most likely informant was Shelley Aguirre. Yet even she had finally refused to answer any more questions. And it was possible she wasn’t high enough in the Kabbal’s organization to tell me what I had to know to convince Dorcas. If I pressed anyone too hard, Vengley might move again, taking Dorcas with him. But this time there would be no paper trail because they wouldn’t make the same mistakes.
