by Lisa Regan
Noah said, “Do you want to call Moore or should I?”
With a heavy sigh, Josie took her phone out. “I’ll do it.”
He answered after six rings.
Josie said, “We wanted to ask you about a chain-link fence we saw out in the woods. It’s on the Lenore County side. Your jurisdiction. Marked private property. Any idea who owns it?”
Moore said, “That property belongs to a commune. They’ve got about a hundred acres, if I remember correctly. They keep it fenced off.”
“A commune?” Josie said.
“Yeah,” Moore answered. “A bunch of people live there, grow their own food, that sort of thing. It’s been there for years. They call it The Sanctuary.”
“Is it a religious thing?” Josie asked. “Or a cult?”
Moore answered, “I’m not sure. I don’t know too much about it.”
“How do you know it’s a commune?” Josie asked.
“My—why do you need to know all this?”
“Because it’s close enough to the campsite that the third camper might have made it onto that property. Is there a problem?”
A beat of silence, then a sigh. “No, no problem. Look, it’s just a bunch of people living off the land, okay? We never have any trouble with anyone from the place. They pay their property taxes, keep to themselves.”
“So they won’t be upset if we go talk to them?”
More silence. For a moment, Josie thought Moore had hung up. “You shouldn’t bother them unless you have to.”
“I have to,” Josie said pointedly. “Is there someone in charge there that I should ask for?”
“An older woman runs the place. Charlotte…” he trailed off, and Josie could tell he was mentally searching for the last name. “Fadden. That’s it. Charlotte Fadden.”
“How many people live there?” Josie asked.
Moore said, “Listen, I told you we don’t know that much about it. Last I heard, there were about fifteen to twenty people living there but that was at least ten years ago.”
“You were there ten years ago? Was there a crime?”
“No, no. I told you, they don’t cause any trouble. I just happened to talk to someone who was living there at that time.”
Josie couldn’t figure out what he was hiding that was making him so cagey. Had he been a member of the commune at some point?
“Where is the entrance to the place?”
He told her.
“You think you could meet us over there? Make the introductions. We are in your jurisdiction, after all.”
“You find any breaks in the fence?” Moore asked. “If there are no breaks, I don’t see the point in bothering those people.”
Noah, who had been standing at her side with his ear cocked toward the phone so he could listen to Moore’s side of the conversation, looked at Josie and rolled his eyes.
Josie said, “I’m bothering those people, Moore. Now you can help smooth the way—this being your jurisdiction and all—or I can go over there with just my people. What’s it going to be?”
Another heavy sigh. “Fine,” Moore said. “I’ll meet you there.”
The Sanctuary was nothing more than an old farmhouse with white siding that had turned gray with age and harsh weather, and a porch roof that sagged. A short driveway led up to its wide steps, with fastidiously cut grass and small, colorful flowerbeds surrounding the outer edges of the large house. It was old but well cared for. Josie looked around. Toward the back of the house were several older-model cars parked in the grass next to a faded red barn. She caught a glimpse of the fencing behind the barn that snaked into the woods beyond. As Josie and Noah followed Moore onto the porch, she craned her neck to try to get a look around the other side of the house, but all she saw was a large field with rows of planted vegetables. A man and a woman worked among the rows with shovels. They were dressed in baggy khaki pants and faded tank tops, bandanas on both their heads, keeping the sweat from dripping into their faces. Every now and then, they looked up at the darkening sky.
Moore knocked on the heavy wooden door and waited. Josie noticed that the windows were open, the curtains inside fluttering as the wind picked up. No air conditioning. Josie wondered if they had electricity at all.
Noah said, “You sure someone’s inside?”
“Well, if they’re not, you can go talk to those people in the garden.”
A few minutes later, the door creaked open and a woman’s pale, thin face peeked out. She was young, perhaps in her thirties, and dressed in faded cut-off denim shorts and a plain white T-shirt. She took one look at the three police officers and said, “I’ll go get Charlotte. Wait here.”
The door closed. Josie glanced at Noah. Moore turned to them. “They’re pretty isolated here. Don’t get many visitors.”
While they waited, Josie found a rocking chair on the porch, sat down and took out her phone to listen to her voicemail. Sergeant Dan Lamay’s voice came across the line, letting her know that there hadn’t been any reports of any females wandering out of the woods on the Denton side of the county line, nor had Denton Memorial Hospital had any related cases. With a sigh, Josie pocketed her phone. With the K-9 unit so far out and the storm coming in, they might have better luck figuring out the identity of the third camper by digging into the Yateses’ social media accounts, phones, and speaking with their next of kin.
The door creaked open again and Josie jumped up as an older woman emerged, wearing a shapeless blue dress that fell to her ankles, brushing over a pair of sandals. Her white hair flowed down her back in waves. A hemp bracelet circled one of her thin wrists as she extended her hand in greeting to Deputy Moore. A warm smile lit her face. Her cheeks were full and shiny as her crepe-paper skin pulled taut across her cheekbones. Wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes and bracketed her thin mouth. “Hello officers,” she said. “Charlotte Fadden.”
She shook hands with Noah and then Josie. She took a moment to study Josie and then said, “I’m seventy-two.”
“Excuse me?”
Charlotte kept Josie’s palm in her own. “You were wondering how old I am. I’m seventy-two. What’s your name, dear?”
Momentarily flustered, Josie took a beat to compose herself. “Detective Josie Quinn from the Denton Police Department. This is my colleague, Lieutenant Noah Fraley.”
Charlotte let go of her hand, but the smile remained on her face. “Denton? What brings you to my door?”
Josie said, “We just recovered two bodies in the woods just within Denton’s jurisdiction. They were camping. The site is about a mile from the fence that surrounds your property. We believe there was a third person with them, a female. We were wondering if you or anyone on your property had seen or heard anything? Have you had anyone come onto the property within the last twenty-four hours?”
Charlotte frowned. “Not that I’m aware of, but come in. I’ll talk to some of my people. You’ll want to have a look around, I’m sure.”
“Yes,” Josie answered. “That would be great.”
“This is where I leave you,” Moore said. He tipped his hat toward Charlotte. “Mrs. Fadden.”
She peered at his nameplate. “Officer Moore.”
So, they hadn’t known one another. Or were they pretending, Josie wondered as Moore walked off to his cruiser and they watched him pull away. Noah grumbled, low enough for Josie to hear, “Guess we didn’t need that introduction.”
Josie and Noah followed Charlotte into the house, which was surprisingly cool without any air conditioning, through a foyer, and into a large kitchen where two women stood at a scarred wooden table chopping vegetables.
“Ladies,” Charlotte said. “These police officers had some trouble in the woods nearby last night. They’re looking for a missing woman. Can you gather everyone out by the barn so we can speak to them?”
With nods, the women shuffled out the back door. Josie looked around the room and spotted a refrigerator.
Charlotte said, “We have electricity
here in the house. You two must be parched. How would you like some cold water?”
“We’d love it,” Noah answered.
Charlotte pulled a large pitcher from the fridge and then found two glasses in one of the cabinets. They stood around the table as Charlotte poured them each a glass of water. Josie had to restrain herself from gulping it down. Smiling again, Charlotte placed the pitcher in the center of the table. “Have more if you’d like. Have you been working outside all morning?”
“Yes,” Noah answered.
Josie placed her empty glass back on the table and pulled out her phone. On the way from the campsite to the Sanctuary, she had used a photo-editing app to crop Tyler and Valerie Yates’ faces from their drivers licenses and put their photos side by side. She turned her phone so that Charlotte could see the smiling faces of the married couple. “Do either of these people look familiar to you?”
Charlotte studied the photos for a moment, her smile loosening and a small vertical line appearing between her eyebrows. “No,” she said. “They’re not familiar to me. I don’t believe I’ve met them, but you should show that to the others. Someone else might remember one or both of them if they’ve ever been here. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Josie texted Noah a copy of the photo before pocketing her phone again. She said, “Deputy Moore told us that you have one hundred acres here.”
“We do,” Charlotte answered. “Although we don’t use most of them. We have our garden, which is quite large, and there is a good deal of land devoted to living quarters.”
“Living quarters?” Noah asked.
Charlotte laughed, the sound like the tinkle of windchimes. “Well, that’s being generous, I suppose. Our focus here is on nature. We grow our own food and we use the land to sustain us. We don’t really have any structures, per se. People live out of tents, mostly.”
“What about the rain? Looks like a bad storm is coming in,” Josie said.
“I ask that everyone gather in the barn or the house when we get thunderstorms. Simple as that.”
“What about in the winter?” Josie asked.
Charlotte’s smile didn’t falter. “The house and barn are heated. People are welcome to sleep in there during the winter months, or they can live outdoors. There are provisions for camping outdoors in the cold weather, you know. We do have a few small cabins on the back end of the property, but I’m afraid they’re not heated and in quite a state of disrepair. I don’t believe anyone actually uses them.”
“You don’t know whether anyone is living in them?” Josie asked.
“No dear, I’m no one’s mother. If the others want to use them, they’re welcome to, but I don’t dole out room assignments.” She laughed. “We’re all adults here. I was in that area about a month ago, and it didn’t appear that anyone was staying in them.”
“We’ll need to have a look at those, if you wouldn’t mind,” Noah said.
“Of course,” Charlotte said easily.
“What do you do for food in the winter?” Noah asked.
“We have a small greenhouse and we jar and freeze what we can.”
“How many people do you have living here?” Josie asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“You’re not sure?” Josie said, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice.
Charlotte laughed again. “Detective Quinn, people come and go from here as they please. We call it a sanctuary because we want people to feel free to come when they need to and leave when they want to. I’ve owned this property for decades. I’ve never felt any need to keep a log of people’s comings and goings.”
“Do you have some kind of vetting process?” Josie asked. “How do you know you’re not letting someone dangerous onto your property?”
Charlotte reached over and poured more water into Josie’s glass. “The people who come here are not the kind of people who would harm others. They come here because they’re looking for peace.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Noah asked, exasperation evident in his voice.
Charlotte was unfazed. “When we have a new arrival, I interview them. They stay here with me in the house for a few days. I have a series of sessions with them where we discuss their background and their needs. Then we tour the property, and I show them how they would be living. If it appeals to them, they stay for a bit. If it doesn’t, they leave.”
“Have you ever had to turn anyone away?” Josie asked. “Or throw someone out?”
“No, not in all these years. It’s really quite extraordinary, isn’t it? But I believe that the energy we put out into the world is returned to us on some level. I’ve only ever put positive energy out there and that seems to be what I attract to my home.”
Josie and Noah exchanged a skeptical look. Josie asked, “What is it that you offer people who find their way here?”
“Whatever they need,” Charlotte answered cryptically.
Noah said, “What do most people need?”
Charlotte answered easily. “Retreat. Refuge. The world is unkind. Here they find a place of peace where they can move at their own pace. They have food and shelter. I provide guided meditation and talk sessions for people dealing with psychological trauma. We don’t allow drugs or alcohol so there’s no concern about that. Most people just want to come here to be their most authentic selves without judgment.”
“How do people find out about this place?” Josie asked.
“If you’re wondering whether I recruit, I don’t. I never have. It’s simply word of mouth.”
“Have you always lived here alone?” Noah asked.
The skin around Charlotte’s eyes tightened. “This was my husband’s land. He was older than me. We married when I was nineteen and I was thirty-two when he died of a heart attack. Then I went through a rather extensive grieving process that involved a lot of drink. Five years later, I met a woman at a bar looking to escape a violent home situation, and I offered her refuge here. She stayed with me for many years before she went back into the world again, and we invited a few more women as the years went by. Eventually, people just started turning up on my doorstep. It grew from there.”
“Do you have any lifers?” Noah asked.
Charlotte gave him a quizzical look. “Lifers? You make it sound like a prison.”
Noah cleared his throat. “I just meant any people who don’t intend to leave?”
Charlotte nodded. “We have several people who seem very settled. But as I said, I don’t keep track. I don’t find it to be necessary.”
Josie walked over to one of the windows and looked outside where several scruffily dressed people had gathered at the doors to the barn. “You’re seventy-two,” Josie said. “What happens to these people when you pass? Do you have children?”
Again, Josie saw the tension behind her smile. “No children. When I die? Well, I suppose it ends, doesn’t it? Nothing can last forever.”
“Do you have a will?” Noah asked.
“Well, that’s a bit outside the purview of your inquiries today, isn’t it, Lieutenant?” Charlotte said. The words were sharp, but her tone stayed the same—calm and kind. She pointed to the back door. “Shall we go speak to the residents? Show them your photo and find out if any of them have seen your missing camper?”
They followed Charlotte outside where roughly thirty people now sat and stood in the grass in front of the barn. Josie was going to ask if that was everyone but knew Charlotte would just say that she didn’t know. As they walked, Josie spoke in a low voice to Noah. “I want the names of every person here, dates of birth, how long they’ve been here, and whatever else you can get out of them.”
“Got it,” Noah said, pulling a small notebook out of his jeans pocket.
Eight
As Josie and Noah spread out among the group, Josie noted that most of the people were between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. Only a handful of people appeared to be over fifty. Most of the Sanctuary
members kept their eyes on the ground or somewhere besides Josie and Noah. The ones who did look directly at them did so with wary eyes. Josie wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the day or something else that made the majority of them seem almost zombie-like, their expressions blank. No one smiled. It seemed odd to her that a sanctuary that was supposed to be a place of peace and refuge was filled with people who looked so miserable. Momentarily, Josie wondered if they were all on drugs. Something homeopathic, maybe? Or perhaps it was just that the police presence made them uncomfortable.
She walked over to a tall man who looked to be in his mid-twenties with locks of blond hair shooting over a bandana he had wrapped around his forehead. Josie extended a hand. Nervously, he wiped his own hand on his cut-off jeans and shook, his grip limp. “I’m Detective Josie Quinn,” she said. He was at least a head taller than her, but when he didn’t look at her, Josie leaned in and looked up into his face to meet his eyes. “What’s your name?”
He had blue eyes. “Tru,” he said.
Josie took out her notebook and marked it down. “Tru?”
“Truman,” he said. “You know, like Truman Capote or Harry Truman?”
“Got it,” Josie said. “What’s your last name, Tru?”
“Dreyer.”
“And how old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“How long have you been here at the Sanctuary?”
“About nine months, maybe.”
His gaze wandered back to the patch of dirt between them. Josie wondered if his robotic answers were a result of his own uneasiness or if he’d been coached to say as little as possible to law enforcement.
“Where did you live before you came here, Tru?”
“Lewisburg.”
That was almost three hours north. Josie looked around, noticing Charlotte’s watchful eyes on them. “Why did you come to the Sanctuary?” Josie asked.
“I wanted to get back to nature, you know?”
Josie said, “What did you do before you came here? Did you go to college?”
