“We don’t know who the men were, either,” I said. But I wondered . . . Barney, maybe? And the prophet himself? “We know that Glynnis was there, and Cecily too.”
“Both of their own free will,” Ellie pointed out. “There’s no crime in joining an organization, and both girls are over eighteen.”
I nodded. “But so far we haven’t located any of the other missing girls. They could still be there,” I said, thinking of Peaches. “We need more information.”
“We’re working on it,” Ellie said. “We’re still trying to find a way to identify other girls at the encampment, but without their cooperation . . .” She shook her head. “No one has said that any of the girls appear to be there against their will.”
Dewayne chimed in, his deep voice a growl of anger. “All those missing girls, and that unsolved murder from last year of a girl in the same age group . . . Ben Baxter ignored the problem for too long. At first I think he was afraid to look into it too deeply, worried about reelection.”
“That’s horrible!” I interjected.
“I know, I know. It sounds bad, but I’m not saying he completely ignored the murders or missing girls,” Dewayne said. “He and his department did investigate.”
“He did . . . the DA’s office kept on him about it,” Ellie said, glancing among us all. “I’ve been here less than a year, but I know our men and women were on it.”
Virgil nodded. “Ben didn’t connect them together like he’s starting to now. He’s convinced that Voorhees is behind the girls’ disappearance. I’m not so sure.”
“Why not?” Trujillo asked, her tone sharp.
He exchanged a look with Dewayne. “You can explain better than me. You’ve been studying this longer.”
Dewayne nodded. “We were just talking about it. He’s lumping all the missing girls in one lot now, and we can’t get him to slow down and examine these cases one by one. Glynnis and Cecily were both runaways, right? And showed up at the Light and the Way Ministry. Cecily is fine, but Glynnis was murdered. However . . . we don’t have a speck of proof that there are other girls from the list there . . . yet!” he tacked on the end, holding up one hand as I was about to break in to speak of my suspicions of Madison Pinker. “And there is zero evidence that the two girls found murdered four years ago and Yolanda Perkins, found murdered two and a half years ago, had anything to do with Voorhees and his crew,” he continued. “Then there is Delonda Henson; she’s been missing ten months, but she had been talking about leaving town for a long time. She was estranged from her family, had a quarrel with her boyfriend, and I suspect she just took off. But now Ben just wants to lump them all in together.”
“It sounds . . . worrisome,” Patricia said. “I don’t know the sheriff, but it sounds like his judgment is compromised. I was involved in a charity benefit board once, and the chairwoman was so stressed she began to make rash decisions. She had to retire finally when complaints began to pour in. She was actually harassing the singer who had agreed to perform.”
I had had my run-ins with Sheriff Ben Baxter, but this sounded like a whole new level of trouble. I got what Patricia was saying, that sometimes stress can get to someone. Maybe she had a point. But who could get the duly elected sheriff to step down?
“Anyway, I want to use data from the Murder Accountability Project to map all area unsolved murders,” Dewayne said.
“What is the Murder Accountability Project?” I asked.
“It’s a group that collates data on unsolved murders across the whole country,” Ellie said. “It shows patterns that otherwise might go unnoticed.”
“What complicates this investigation is, many of these missing girls can’t be assumed murdered just because they’re not here,” Dewayne finished, spreading his big hands and shrugging. “We have a few, but connecting them together is a long task. We have to collect all the data on cause of death, DNA, fingerprints, hair . . . all of that.”
“That’s what police are doing right now, trying to connect the unsolved murders we have,” Virgil said. “But it’s not a quick job like they show on TV.”
Except when I get lucky and solve it with some fluky guesswork, I wanted to say but didn’t. This was not a topic for levity.
Someone banged on the door and I glanced around; almost everyone I knew who would come to my house was already here. I jumped up and trailed Virgil to the front door. He opened it.
Lizzie charged in, followed by Cecily, who hugged herself, tears in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Lizzie said. “Something’s finally right.” She grabbed my arms, her fingers digging into the flesh of my upper arm, and hauled me away to the staircase. “Cec and I went to the encampment and got Alcina,” she muttered furtively. “I have her in the car. Now what’ll I do?”
Chapter Eighteen
“What do you mean you’ve got Alcina in the car?” I hissed, pulling myself out of her grip. I took hold of her wrist and dragged her through the murky foyer into the office. Cecily bobbed after us and Virgil followed, looking grim, but I caught his eye and shook my head. I did not want the others to hear this until we figured out what was going on.
Virgil, his lips firmed into a straight line, rolled his eyes and went back to our friends, closing the office door behind him. I telepathically tried to tell him to say that Lizzie was here with some teenage emergency.
“Tell me what you mean?” I asked, shaking her. I released her and turned on the desk lamp, the light greenish through its banker-style shade. Cecily collapsed on the leather love seat, put her elbows on her knees and covered her face with both hands.
“I was worried,” Lizzie said, staring at me through narrowed eyes. “After the day before yesterday and all that crap, I wasn’t going to let Felice keep Alcina there just because she’s a brainwashed moron who—”
“Lizzie, hush!” I said. “Now, from the beginning. Tell me what happened.”
“She did the right thing,” Cecily said from the sofa, hands now on her lap. She thrust one through her magenta hair and sobbed, her breath coming in panicky gulps. “I told Lizzie . . . we had to do it. I didn’t tell the cops, but I saw one night when Nathan grabbed a girl and tried to get friendly with her.”
“What?” I collapsed on the love seat beside her. Anger flared. “How could you not tell me this?” Especially after our long, friendly chat.
Cecily was trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” she sobbed. She grabbed my arm, clinging to me. “I was scared,” she said, staring directly into my eyes, pleading for understanding. “Nathan is about as bad as Barney, and he said if I told anyone, he’d make sure the prophet let him marry me. Until I left I was scared.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me!” Lizzie shrieked, stomping back and forth and finally looming over the other girl.
“Lizzie, shut up. You’re not helping. Okay, all right. Let me think.” I took a deep breath. This could get messy. Alcina was fifteen, and her mother was her legal custodial parent. But surely if she was in imminent danger no law in the land would force her to stay. I had a sheriff in the other room, and I could right now get his help. But . . . the encampment wasn’t in his jurisdiction. I was caught between my growing trust in Urquhart and yet knowing that by handing Alcina over to him I would be putting him in a legal bind and perhaps traumatizing Alcina. The poor child had been through enough.
And ADA Trujillo? I didn’t know her at all. I liked her, based on our conversations this evening. I felt I could trust her, but I wasn’t sure. She was bound by the law, and Alcina was in her mother’s custody.
Nathan Garrison: was he one of the two men with the girl Lynn claimed to have heard screaming? I had thought Barney and the prophet. My mind raced in circles, like Becket high on catnip.
“I can’t leave her out in the frickin’ car,” Lizzie said, gesticulating wildly. “Merry, what are we going to do? I can’t take her back to Grandma’s place.”<
br />
“No, I agree. I need to talk to her.” When I cautiously emerged from the study, peeping in both directions, it was to find Pish pacing in the foyer.
He raced to me and caught and held my gaze. “What’s going on? Virgil told me to come here and wait for you.”
My husband . . . he always knew exactly what to do. Pish was the one who could be trusted with the information I had. “What did he tell the others?”
“He said that Lizzie came rolling up with some teenage crisis that only you could solve.”
I took a deep breath. Marital telepathy—or Virgil’s own excellent sense—was magical. Lizzie peeked out the study door, her eyes widening when she saw Pish. I put up one hand to stay her, then explained to Pish what was going on. He took it in, and nodded. I asked him to go back to my guests and make some excuse for me because I was going out to talk to Alcina, and then figure out what to do from there. He nodded again, retreated, and I motioned to Lizzie and Cecily, who peeked out behind her, to go out the front door.
Lizzie’s grandmother’s car sat in the drive in front of the house. I followed my teen friend and got in the backseat, where Alcina cowered against the far door. I turned on the dome light. “Alcina, honey, are you okay?” I said gently, like I was speaking to a frightened kitten.
She had never been especially attached to me, but in that moment myriad emotions fluttered over her pale, tearstained face and she threw herself into my arms. I held her close. She was like some tiny forest creature, her heart beating a mile a minute against my chest. It slowed, calmed. We sat like that for a long time, with me crooning nonsense and rocking her. When it felt like she had settled, I drew back slightly. Lizzie and Cecily talked in low voices in the front seat.
“Honey, I need to ask you some questions,” I whispered to Alcina. “Is that okay?”
She nodded.
“Are you physically well? Has anyone harmed you?”
She shook her head.
“Did you come willingly with Lizzie and Cecily? Lizzie didn’t bully you to come?”
Lizzie yelped in dismay and glared at me over the seat, but I shot her a look. A kid with that strong a personality can sometimes overwhelm other more easily influenced kids.
Alcina sniffled. “I was so relieved when I saw her, Merry,” she said, her light voice trembling. She explained that Lizzie had crept through the camp, calling her name. “I was so happy. It was like a dream. She said she’d get me out of there, and I went.”
“So you wanted to leave your mother?”
Alcina started crying. “No, I didn’t! She’s not been feeling well. I’m worried about her. But I’ve been begging to go for months . . . asking to leave that awful place. I’ve been dodging those men, keeping away. Hiding. But she wouldn’t leave. At first . . . at first it was because she thought it was best for us. But then—”
“Yes? Then?”
“She’s scared,” Alcina said, wide-eyed.
“What is she scared of?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping that when she realizes I’m gone she’ll come looking for me.”
“Okay, all right. Let me think.”
“Merry, what are we going to do?” she asked, her small hand trembling within mine. “If she doesn’t escape, how can we get her out of there?”
I chafed it, trying to warm her. “Let me think about that tonight. I’ll figure something out.”
Satisfied that Alcina had cooperated in her flight from the camp and was happy to leave, that solved my moral worries. Nothing was more important than Alcina’s safety. But now there was a legal dilemma.
“Honey, I have a couple of questions to ask. Just answer as best you can.” She nodded, her pearly skin dewy with a film of perspiration raised by fear. “Do you know what the custody agreement is between your parents?”
“Daddy has Teddy, and Mom has me.”
“Does your dad have a right to have visits with you?”
She nodded.
“Is it up to you, to visit him?”
She nodded.
“But you haven’t visited him for a while?”
She shook her head. “He tried to come see me at the encampment, but Barney turned him away.”
I wondered why her father hadn’t gotten the sheriff’s office involved. “So you haven’t seen your little brother in all this time?”
She shook her head, tears dripping down her face and off her chin. “I miss him,” she said.
“Where does your father live?”
“With my Aunt Sally and my cousins, her kids. Aunt Sally is Daddy’s sister.”
“Where, in Ridley Ridge or Autumn Vale?”
“Ridley Ridge.”
“He’s a trucker, right?”
She nodded.
“There is always someone at the house to look after Teddy?”
She nodded again.
“Do you like it there?”
She nodded, a child of few words but firm opinions.
My mind made up, I asked her, “So what do you think of going there to stay for a few days while we try to help your mom? Can I call them and arrange it?” I wasn’t going to send Lizzie to the woman’s door in the middle of the night unannounced, Alcina in tow.
She nodded, her eyes puffy from tears, her whole slim body sagging from exhaustion. I hugged her, holding her close, gently. “It’ll be okay, honey, really,” I murmured against her ratty hair, that lovely golden hair that had always been so silky and soft. “We’ll all help you get your mom back and sort everything out. I promise.” I hoped I could keep my promise, but for now, it was enough that she was safe.
I commandeered Lizzie’s cell phone, and in the darkness of the car interior I made a difficult call. To the woman’s credit, though I had woken her out of a sound sleep—with young kids she was probably exhausted—Sally agreed without hesitation to take Alcina in. She adored her niece and had missed her. They shared a special bond of loving fairies and gardens. Teddy missed her terribly, too, she told me, unprompted, and longed for his big sister.
I explained the legal situation, but she understood it better than I did. I had a sense it had been the subject of discussion between her and her brother for some time. She confirmed that, telling me that her brother had intended to go to the police for help in enforcing the custody order that allowed him parental rights. He was worried about his child’s living arrangements, but until now he hadn’t wanted to get his ex-wife, whom he still loved, in trouble. He had been hoping to work something out, and had tried repeatedly when he was home to contact her. In the last month or so he had become frantic enough to consult a lawyer, who was going to help him apply for custody of Alcina unless Felice would agree to leave the encampment.
I was relieved. It was Happy Families, it seemed, with everyone wanting the best for Alcina. I told Sally a teenage friend was going to deliver her niece to her door. She’d have hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls ready, she said. I put Alcina on the line, and she sobbed to her aunt in weepy bursts of speech that both seemed to understand.
I took the phone, said goodbye to the woman, then handed it back to Lizzie. Alcina was already asleep, bundled up with Lizzie’s grandma’s old soft plaid car blanket. I’d bet it was the warmest she had been in a month or more. “Cecily, you have to tell me what you meant when you said you saw Nathan trying to get friendly with a girl,” I whispered to the teenager. “What does that mean?”
“He was touching her. And holding on to her.”
“What girl was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“When was it?”
“I don’t remember!” She was weeping and hiccupping. “I was s-scared to tell the cops everything!” she said. “I told Barney, and he called me a liar and said to shut my mouth. Barney’s a jerk. What if he comes after us? What if he—”
“I understand, Cecily. I do!” She had been in trouble before and the police were not her friends. I pondered my next words; I had to trust my gut. “Cecily, inside is the assistant district
attorney. So far, they haven’t had enough to arrest anyone there. You say you didn’t tell them the whole truth last time about what is going on at the encampment; do you want to do that now? Tell them about Nathan and Barney? It could help the other girls and women at the encampment. It might even lead to justice for poor Glynnis.”
Cecily looked doubtful.
“Her name is Elisandre Trujillo. She’s a nice woman, and only concerned with helping all of you who have been taken advantage of. You could come in right now and talk to her, but I won’t pressure you to do it. It’s truly up to you.”
Her eyes unfocused, I could see the thoughts churning.
“Cecily, you aren’t in trouble,” I said, hoping that was true. “My husband is inside. You know he was a cop, and he’s a good guy.”
“It’s true, Cec. He helped me out when I was in trouble. Virgil’s okay.” Lizzie hugged her friend across the center console, then let her go. “But whatever you want to do is okay,” she added.
The teenager took in a deep breath and looked up at me. “I’ll talk to her if . . . if you think it’ll be okay.”
That made me think seriously. I couldn’t guarantee anything. Except . . . “I don’t know how all of this is going to go but I can guarantee one thing: you can count on me. I’ll stay by your side the whole time.” I took her hand and squeezed it, then released. “If what you’ve said to me is true—and I do believe you—then you’ve done nothing wrong.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk.”
Cecily and I got out of the car and I sent Lizzie off. Alcina’s aunt had texted the address in Ridley Ridge and directions. I turned with Cecily and walked her back into the house and ushered her into the living room, where my guests were chatting. Ellie was talking with Urquhart, waving her phone around. Something had happened.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Ellie turned to me. “I got a text from Sheriff Baxter. Another girl has disappeared, and he’s worried. It took him this long to take it all seriously, but now he’s concerned. She was seen at the bus station this evening, but she apparently never got on the bus.”
Muffin But Trouble Page 20
