by Sara Blaedel
“What is it you have to do?” Ilka’s father looked at Lydia as if he already knew he wouldn’t like her answer.
She stared into space for a moment then glanced at Dorothy before rising from the sofa. A few seconds later she had opened the door to a room at the back of the house and called up the stairs.
Ilka’s father straightened up in his chair. Dorothy had laid a blanket around his shoulders, and it slid to the floor when a woman showed up in the doorway.
“This is my youngest sister, Jane-Maya,” Lydia said.
Ilka gaped at the woman. She was in her late twenties, maybe thirty. Two girls still in their nightgowns walked in behind her. Ten and twelve? Ilka wasn’t sure; guessing ages wasn’t her strong suit. The daughters stared down at their bare feet.
“They’re going to have a new life now, outside of the cult,” Lydia explained.
Dorothy carried in an extra chair so they all could sit down. She brought in more coffee and two glasses of fruit juice for the girls. They sat glued to each other and their mother on the sofa, hands folded in their laps and eyes averted. Their hair was gathered in ponytails that hung all the way down their backs.
Ilka took note of a large, reddish-brown splotch on the skin of the oldest girl, just above her nightgown’s collar. A burn mark, or a wide scar. Suddenly she felt Lydia’s eyes on her and realized she was staring at the girl’s neck. She quickly looked away.
“My sister and her girls are going up to Canada, where our other sister lives.”
It was obvious the two were sisters, Ilka reflected. They had the same delicate features and flat nose. Jane-Maya wasn’t much taller than Lydia, either, though her eyes were light blue and Lydia’s were brown. She had the same long ponytail as her daughters, and she wore a long dress buttoned up to her neck.
“We got her out four months ago, and now she’s found a place up there for all of them. She has three kids, so they need quite a bit of room.”
Lydia smiled tenderly at her sister and nieces; the warmth in her eyes became her. Ilka listened as Lydia explained that her two sisters had stayed with their mother at the cult’s headquarters in Utah until a few years ago, when she’d finally managed to contact them through one of Alice Payne’s friends, a lawyer.
“It took a long time for us to find each other. In more ways than one.” Leaving the cult had been a difficult decision, Lydia explained. “Both my sisters were married to Isiah Burnes, and that gives you status and a better position in the hierarchy. But it also makes it much more difficult to get out.”
“But wasn’t Isiah Burnes your father?” Ilka said.
The steely look returned to Lydia’s eyes as she nodded wordlessly.
Ilka left it at that. Something inside her softened up; she’d never seen Lydia this way, sensitive, emotional, so different from the desperate and angry woman she’d been down in Kentucky.
“I can’t go with Jennings until I get Jane-Maya and my nieces to Detroit. Our sister will pick them up when they cross the border.”
Ilka had no idea where Detroit was in relation to Racine, nor did she know the city was located on the US-Canadian border; geography was another of her weak points.
“I can drive them there.” Ilka glanced over at Jane-Maya, who was looking away. “How far is it?”
“It’s a six-, seven-hour drive from here,” her father said.
“Can we borrow the hearse?” Lydia asked.
Suddenly Ilka understood why it had looked so routine when Lydia had crawled up into the coffin, back when they fled from the Rodriguez brothers. “You want to smuggle them out of the country in a coffin!”
Her hand flew to her mouth; she shouldn’t have said that out loud, in front of the woman and her daughters. But they showed no reaction.
“It’s the only way. They don’t have passports or IDs. Isiah Burnes doesn’t allow it.”
Ilka nodded thoughtfully. Of course Lydia could forge the necessary papers, she thought; after all, she’d forged her father’s death certificate.
Ilka had made up her mind. “I want to do this. When do we leave?”
Jane-Maya and her daughters on the sofa didn’t look like they cared who drove them, but Lydia thought it over.
“Tomorrow,” she finally answered. “If you’re serious about this. You should leave around ten; that way you’ll hit the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel around rush hour.”
Ilka nodded. That meant Lydia could leave with Jennings tomorrow too, as soon as Ilka took off.
“But there are a few things to do first,” Lydia said. “I’ve rented a storage unit in a warehouse three blocks away from the funeral home.”
Ilka knew that must be in the industrial zone farther out from downtown, though she’d never been there.
“There’s a large coffin inside, an XL, or oversized as we call it. It’s easy to get to. There’s also a cart to roll it out on, but you can back the hearse up all the way to the door.”
“I can go with you,” her father said, but Ilka shook her head and said she could handle it.
“While you’re driving here in the States, they can sit up in the coffin if you close the curtains in back. Just so no one can see inside. But when you get to the Canadian border, to customs and immigration, they need to be lying down inside the coffin. As long as the papers are in order, they won’t check inside.”
Bizarre, Ilka thought, but she nodded. “We could even leave today.” She glanced over again at Jane-Maya.
Lydia shook her head. Everything had been coordinated with their sister in Canada, she explained. Then she stood up and asked Ilka and her father to follow her outside.
“They came directly from Alice’s,” she said when they reached the front steps. “The plan was for them to stay with Fernanda a few weeks before going on, but Alice couldn’t get hold of her, and neither could I. So she drove them up here. Usually Alice drives a cult member down to Key West when she gets them out. It helps to have a place they can relax for a while with no pressure. It’s an enormous change in their lives, especially for us who were born into the cult. It’s all we’ve known.”
Ilka noticed that her father had closed the front door.
“Then when we decide they’re ready to go on, Alice drives them up here to Racine, to me. But they only stay for a night, two at the most, before I take them to their final destination.”
“Where’s that?” Ilka caught herself whispering, though there was no one else around.
“Usually they go to other women who have escaped from some religious group, not necessarily God’s Will. It could be Mormons, Scientology, the Family. The feeling that you’re in prison, it’s the same. And no matter what group you’ve escaped from, you want to help others in the same situation.”
Ilka nodded. Yes, she could see that.
Lydia turned to Ilka’s father. “I’m worried about Fernanda. Is there anyone in Key West you know well enough that you could ask them to check the house? To make sure everything’s okay?”
He ran his hand over the top of his head and thought a moment. “Nick. I can ask him to run over there.”
He turned to Ilka. “He’s the one you met, the guy behind the bar. Could you look his number up for me? The name of the bar is Mudville.”
Ilka fished her phone out of her pocket and googled the bar.
“When did your sister and nieces get here?” She thought about her own desperate search for Lydia.
“Yesterday evening. I talked to Alice the day before yesterday, which is when she told me she couldn’t get hold of Fernanda. I couldn’t put them up in the funeral home this time, obviously, so I asked Dorothy if they could stay here.”
Ilka nodded. Of course Lydia knew Dorothy well enough to feel comfortable asking her.
“Our sister in Canada is so happy they’ll be together again. After she picks them up, it’s another five hours to the house she’s rented, so it’s going to be a long trip for the girls.”
Ilka found the number of the bar and handed her phone to
her father. She pulled Lydia aside. “There’s something I need you to do for me.”
Without mincing words, she described Artie’s situation and what had happened with his insurance. “I know you’ve already put a lot into his hospital account, but it’s not enough. I don’t understand at all how it can be so expensive, and I’ve racked my brains, but now I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t worry about it, Artie is my responsibility. I’m the reason he’s in this terrible mess, it never should’ve happened. I’ll make sure he doesn’t lack for anything. And if the Rodriguez brothers get their hands on me before we can put them behind bars—well, they’ll just have to get by with a lot less money, won’t they!”
Ilka had never heard this sense of humor from Lydia before, even in her disguise as Sister Eileen. It must be an enormous relief for her, she thought, knowing that all the years of living underground in constant fear of being found were coming to an end. Finally, she wasn’t alone.
“Thank you,” Ilka said. She was about to turn back to her father when Lydia reached out and held her arm. Ilka stared at the edge of a round burn mark that was now exposed, just visible above the petite woman’s collar.
Lydia let go and let her arm fall to her side. “We all have one.”
She tugged her blouse up to cover the scar. “It’s part of the baptism ceremony, the day you turn twelve. That’s the day your childhood ends and your adult life begins. And everything that comes with it. Jane-Maya’s oldest daughter just turned twelve, so her brand hasn’t healed yet. It was part of the reason my sister worked up the courage to run away, before her younger daughter had to go through the same ritual, and before they both were married off.”
Lydia pursed her lips. “I think I’ve always hoped that someone someday would step forward and let the world know how much evil Isiah Burnes has done. Look at my little nieces. I can’t say for sure they’ve already been abused, but it wouldn’t surprise me. That’s what we’re up against. We’re fighting the pain, all the damage done to the women and children in the cult, every single day. And I’m well aware how it’s so unreal to all of you on the outside, that such things can even take place, that more people don’t get out. But when you’re inside the cult, it’s hard to imagine life being any different.”
“But they rape small children—surely every parent can see how wrong that is.”
Lydia nodded. “You’d think so, but that’s not how it looks on the inside. Burnes convinces us the lives we lead are full of love, that we are being broad-minded. However perverted it sounds, the cult looks on open sexual relationships as universal love given to all the members. He brainwashes everyone into thinking that evil exists only outside the cult. And people believe him. It’s going to take a man like Calvin Jennings to stop Burnes. Otherwise there’s no hope.”
“You are so brave! And you’re doing the right thing by going with him. I’ll make sure your family gets to Canada.”
Lydia nodded and glanced over at Ilka’s father, who was still speaking on the phone. “Just give me a minute, I’ll get the money for you.”
She headed for the door as he handed the phone back to Ilka. He looked worried.
“He’s going over there to check on them,” he said.
Ilka squeezed his shoulder. When she was down in Key West, she’d seen how close he’d become to Fernanda and Ethan. And it had been equally obvious how the boy felt about her father.
She told him Lydia was upstairs getting the money. “Do you want to go along to the hospital, to pay them? Or would you rather stay here?” She could pick him up on the way back; that would give her time alone with Artie, so she could explain things to him.
He shook his head. “No, I’ll go with you. Her nieces have been through enough, and a strange man around the house might upset them even more. They need all the rest they can get. They’ve got a long trip ahead of them tomorrow.”
“I don’t think you’re upsetting them, I think it’s the whole situation. I just can’t understand how something like this can take place. Especially when the authorities know about it.”
Deep down, she almost had trouble believing the cult was as bad as Jennings and Lydia described it; on the other hand, she’d seen the look in the eyes of Jane-Maya and the two young girls. And now she saw the same darkness in her father’s expression.
“Several years ago, another cult leader was arrested,” he said. “He got life plus twenty years. They called him one of the worst sex monsters in history. But even from prison he managed to control his followers. That says something about the strength of people’s belief. He had over fifteen thousand followers.”
“But what about people on the outside, why don’t they do something about it?”
Her father shook his head. “They called him the Prophet of Evil; he owned an enormous amount of land close to the border between Utah and Arizona, worth something like a hundred million dollars. Some of the local police were members of his cult, while he was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.”
He shook his head again. “It’s hard to understand, I know, but I’m sure everything Lydia says is true. It’s all happened before.”
Lydia came back with the money in a plastic sack. “This will cover everything he wants or needs. Whatever’s left when he gets out of the hospital, put it in his bank account.”
She looked at Ilka. “I’m very sorry, I didn’t know Artie had these problems.”
Ilka knew it was the closest she’d come to apologizing for how all the problems had been dumped on Ilka.
At the hospital, Ilka asked her father to wait in the hallway while she went into the office on Artie’s ward. The woman she’d spoken to last time was behind the counter, and she didn’t look particularly happy to see Ilka. But she nodded and waved her on in.
“The hospital administration has entered into an agreement with Sorvino and his bank.” The woman obviously wanted Ilka to keep her nose out of it. “His house has been put up as collateral, and we won’t demand payment on what we are owed until the house is sold.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Ilka began unpacking the money. “What’s the status of his patient account?”
It seemed to take a superhuman effort for the woman to lean over and check his account. “He owes four thousand nine hundred dollars, as of today. But now that his house has been put up as security, he can continue with his rehabilitation. We’ve also planned a follow-up scan for next week.”
Ilka brought out the bundle of hundred-dollar bills and counted out forty-nine of them.
The woman behind the counter stared at the money.
“I want to close his account,” Ilka said. Her father appeared in the doorway. “We would like to move Artie over to the private section of the hospital. Would you mind checking if there’s a vacancy? Preferably with a balcony, so he can get some fresh air.”
The stack of bills filled her hand. Artie wasn’t going to lie one second longer in that eight-bed room with the threat of being thrown out of the hospital hanging over his head. He was going to have a private room, a balcony for smoking, and the same special treatment as Amber.
The Rodriguez brothers had chosen the wrong people to go up against, Ilka thought, feeling enormously satisfied.
“Would you like him to be transferred immediately, today?” the woman asked, holding the phone to her ear while eyeing the stack of bills.
“Yes, thank you.”
“The patient transfer is effective as of today,” the woman said over the phone. She informed the private section that payment would be made in cash.
She glanced up at Ilka and nodded to confirm there was a room available. Ilka felt any lingering bad conscience fading as relief spread through her. The only thing that still bothered her—a bit—was that those Rodriguez assholes would never know the money they were after would be paying for their latest victim’s comfort, the best the hospital could provide.
The woman still held the phone to her ear. “Does he ha
ve any special preferences as to his menu? Vegan, vegetarian, gluten-free?” Suddenly she could hardly be more friendly and helpful.
“Put him down for fish and meat,” Ilka ordered, adding that vegetables weren’t so important.
“If you offer any special additions to menus, we’ll take them too,” her father said. He made it sound as if they were booking a Caribbean cruise for Artie.
Ilka smiled and nodded.
“We do have a vacant room with a balcony,” the woman confirmed. “We’ll get going on his transfer, and as soon as the papers are in order, a porter will come by to take him over. Mr. Sorvino will be discharged here, and we will notify the bank we no longer need his house as security.”
Ilka thanked her. She googled Happy Homes to get their number. It was time to call the real estate agent and tell him Artie’s house wasn’t for sale.
Artie was sitting up in bed when they walked in. His black stocking cap was nowhere in sight, and his head had been freshly shaved. So, Ilka thought, he had finally relented. She felt sorry for him. He looked sullen as he stuck a plastic spoon into a small cup of yogurt.
Ilka hadn’t seen him since he’d found out she’d been lying about his insurance. She’d thought it would feel so satisfying to tell him the hospital bill was no longer a problem, and that he’d be transferred to a private room, but suddenly it didn’t seem that easy.
Her father nudged her aside and walked over to the bed. “So, what do you think? Are you ready to get going?”
Artie was about to answer when he spotted Ilka in the doorway. He looked away and laid the cup of yogurt on his night table. “I think I’ve got a handle on things.” He told them about the real estate agent. “They’ve promised to keep me here.”
