“It could be that she decided to stay with a friend instead,” Urquhart said. “Has he put out an Amber Alert yet?”
“They can’t. She’s eighteen. She had a fight with her mom and left, saying she was going to LA. She was seen in the bus station, and she bought a ticket, but she never used it.” Ellie looked around, then her gaze settled on Urquhart. “None of us can do anything yet,” she said.
There was a feeling of consternation among the group, a sad way to end a lovely dinner party. But then they saw Cecily, who shrank behind me, cowering. I felt for her, but she was getting to an age when she had to take responsibility. “Friends, this is Cecily,” I said, taking her arm and pulling her to stand beside me. “Until recently she was living out at the Light and the Way Ministry encampment.” I turned to the assistant district attorney and said, “Ellie, she’d like to talk to you in person. She’d like to amend her police statement. Can she do that with you? I feel like it’s important that she do it now, especially in light of another young woman missing.”
Patricia and Dewayne left, as did Pish. I was true to my word with Cecily and stayed with her as she amended her statement to ADA Trujillo, who was all business. She videotaped their interview using an app on her phone, and also took copious notes. Sheriff Urquhart remained—he was Ellie’s ride—but he and Virgil stayed in the great room talking about the missing girls’ case, letting Cecily and me and Trujillo have the office to conduct our business.
Ellie Trujillo and Urquhart finally left, and I put Cecily in our guest room. Don’t judge me, but I gave her a shot of sherry to relax her and help her sleep.
• • •
I told Virgil all about Lizzie and Cecily breaking Alcina out of the encampment as we whispered together in our bed, aware that we had a houseguest for the first time since building our house. Virgil was supportive, but said that eventually Alcina would have to talk to authorities. I agreed, but at least now she would have her dad’s support.
For the rest of the night I tossed and turned as Virgil snored, worrying over what I was missing, and the teenager who had disappeared, and Alcina and Felice and everything else. Cecily was low-key the next morning when I got her up. She was not normally a morning person, I would have bet, and she had been through a lot the day before. But we had to decide what she was going to do . . . where she was going to live.
Fortunately Ellie called early, sounding bright and chipper, with news. She had been in touch with Cecily’s father, who was deeply relieved to learn his daughter was alive and well. He also seemed contrite that he had not been more supportive of her transition to her new situation with his new wife and her kids. It had been difficult, he admitted, but he wanted her to come home. He had a room fixed up for her. He had not thrown out her stuff as she feared, and in fact had preserved it.
I put the phone to my chest and told Cecily that, and she yipped with happiness, then skipped off to have a shower. I had some clothes for her, ones that were a little tight for me but would be right for her, a pair of designer jeans and a Lane Bryant slashed yoke tee in the same magenta as her hair, with a jean jacket I had grown out of—in other words, too tight over the bust and arms. She was so enthused about the clothes I promised to go through all my stuff and send her a big bag.
I came back to the phone and Ellie told me that because of Cecily’s amended statement, they would be going to the encampment later to pick up Barney and Nathan for questioning. I was happy about that. I had realized that morning something that had been nagging at me for days. Something that didn’t make sense. I considered what I thought I might know, taken along with Hannah’s text to me that very morning giving me her opinion (after research) in answer to my question about who Mother Esther might be.
“Ellie, before you go, I have a question: can you find out how Bardo Voorhees died?”
“The prophet’s brother? That was what . . . three years ago? I’ve heard about it. It’s a cold case, of course, his death. I know he was beaten and his body left in the woods. Sure, I can look into it, but I’m going to be kind of busy. Why are you asking?”
I told her what I was thinking, and she exclaimed in shock, making notes as we spoke. Something else fell into place; for a moment I was silent, and then I told her what else I was thinking.
“You may have something,” she said, scribbling furiously in the background. “I’ve got to go. I need to see the coroner about a body.”
Chapter Nineteen
Virgil was fixing himself a second cup of coffee and crunching on the overcooked bacon he so dearly loves. “How did you figure all that out? What you told Ellie?” he asked, spooning sugar into his coffee.
“About the Voorhees brothers?”
He nodded.
“It’s been bugging me all along. You know that nagging feeling, knowing there was something but not being able to pin down what it was? I had it, in spades. Garth, the meat guy, was talking about the Voorhees brothers, how he knew them as kids. He said Bardo was trouble, but he always thought Arden was okay.”
Virgil nodded. “I’ve heard that. Bardo was fresh out of jail when he was murdered, his sentence reduced because of good behavior, meaning he snitched on someone while inside. Baxter figured a jail associate caught up with him and killed him for snitching. They actually picked up a guy but had to release him. No evidence. As far as I know, they’re still working on that angle.”
“Okay,” I said impatiently, “but Garth described Arden as a runty little guy, and someone else said he had thin hair. Not like the guy who is now Arden, who has abundant hair; he keeps it up under a wrap a lot of the time, but I’ve seen it down. He’s got hair. And everyone said Arden went off the rails after his brother was murdered, that he became reclusive. They also said Arden’s wife disappeared.” I paused. “After the murder.”
Virgil’s cloudy gaze cleared. He stopped dead and set his cup down. “So . . . if Arden became reclusive, no one saw him after his brother was murdered?”
I nodded.
“I wonder who identified Bardo’s body, after it was found?”
“That’s what I want to know. But I’ll bet Arden was so ‘laid up and upset’ that it had to be Arden’s wife, Essie. As in, maybe, Esther?”
“As in Mother Esther,” he said.
“Exactly. Hannah did some investigation into it, and it hit her . . . the woman involved in the case, Arden’s wife Essie Voorhees, was the right age and had disappeared—supposedly she left town—around the same time as Mother Esther came into being.”
“Goddamn. Right in front of us this whole time. Clever,” he said, nodding his head. “So Bardo killed his brother, Arden, and took his identity. Arden’s wife ID’d her ‘brother-in-law’s’ body because her ‘husband’ was too upset. I remember now . . . the body’s face was smashed in, but the ID was made positively by a family member. She ID’d him, then ‘disappeared’ herself, after telling people she was leaving.”
“It makes sense,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’m right about this. But wouldn’t they do fingerprinting to prove it was Bardo?”
Virgil sighed and swiped a hand over his face. “You know, I’d like to say yes, but if a family member positively identifies someone there is no reason to go further, to fingerprints or dental. It saves time and trouble.”
“Okay. I thought I was crazy for a while, when I started putting this together. I thought for sure the police would ID the body with fingerprinting at the very least. But deliberate misidentification makes a lot more sense than a fifty-year-old man suddenly growing four inches and getting lots of hair when he just had thin wispy hair before. That’s why Bardo, pretending to be Arden, had to stay out of town, off the grid, suddenly. The Ridley Ridge house they started the Light and the Way Ministry in wasn’t enough, they needed to get out of town. Even the farmhouse they went to next probably wasn’t far enough away. They needed somewhere that would protect Bardo, that people couldn’t see him up close.
“I’m thinking Arden and Bardo resembled eac
h other enough that seeing him driving a van where you couldn’t compare height, the visual similarity would be enough to convince you that Bardo was Arden. The only thing I can’t think of is why? Why would Bardo want to take over Arden’s life?”
“It’s probably a simple matter. Maybe Esther and Bardo were having a fling, or maybe there was money or property in Arden’s name, and Esther and Bardo wanted it for themselves. It was simpler just to keep it, as Arden, rather than have Arden die and go through the courts for Esther to inherit. Some minds work that way . . . easier to kill and take than inherit legally.”
“You’re probably right. It’s usually money, isn’t it?” I squinted out the back window as Becket curled around my feet, mewing to be let out. I strolled to the back patio door, opened it, and he jauntily trotted out, looking back over his shoulder at me and blinking once, before disappearing into the woods. “Something else has been bothering me,” I said, turning back to him. I circled the kitchen island to where Virgil sat on a high stool, sipping his coffee. “Did Barney give his full name to the sheriff when he was picked up the other day?”
“I know he gave them a name. I don’t know what it is, or if it’s his actual name. And before this, on the street, he always skirted the law, pulling back when a cop challenged him.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what he did in Ridley Ridge when the female police officer told him to take a hike.”
“So, no, I don’t think he’s ever been pulled in.”
“I’ve been thinking and thinking.” I searched my husband’s brown eyes and frowned, trying to express what I was thinking. “He doesn’t seem like the type to espouse a doomsday type of religion.”
“What are you saying?” He put his hands on my hips and pulled me closer.
“I’m just wondering . . . who is Barney, really? Maybe he’s hiding out at the encampment. Good place to disappear, off the grid.”
“You could be right. I’ll check it out,” he said, pulling me onto his lap.
We canoodled for a moment, but I pulled away. “Hopefully, then, since they’re picking up Barney and Nathan, we’ll get some definitive answers,” I said, breathless and rearranging my clothes. “You had better go.”
He checked his phone. “I’m already late.”
Virgil and Dewayne were getting together with Urquhart and Baxter to discuss progress on the list of missing girls and women. Their task force had been approved by the DA’s office. Cecily’s information might help. I had, of course, shared with Virgil my fear that Peaches was Madison Pinker, and they were meeting to decide how to proceed, how to identify her without making trouble at the encampment. With the latest possible missing girl, it was urgent that any connection to the Light and the Way Ministry was explored.
Virgil had been checking in with Baxter’s office. Though deputies had already gone out to the encampment, neither Nathan nor Barney had been taken into custody because they simply weren’t there. Both were being elusive. That was troubling.
Cecily joined us. I handed her a muffin for her breakfast and we headed outside. She was clearly ecstatic in her new duds and excited to see her dad. Virgil and I kissed goodbye lingeringly while Cecily watched with a pink-cheeked grin. Then we got in our vehicles and headed out, me with Cecily nonstop chattering about what her dad had said, and hoping she could start fresh with her stepmother and stepsiblings.
We drove into Ridley Ridge and I got out of the car when her dad came out to greet her. I was reassured by the tears in his eyes and the way he hugged Cecily. He thanked me profusely and shook my hand, but I said the girl he should be thanking was Lizzie Proctor, and I hoped that their friendship would continue. Lizzie is a strong-minded independent woman, and a good friend. Cecily agreed. I watched as they entered the tidy ranch-style home and the door closed behind them, then closed my eyes and said a silent prayer.
I headed back to Autumn Vale and down the side street to the library. Hannah had texted me repeatedly and wanted me to come in; she and Zeke had more information beyond the Esther/Essie riddle. I was in luck. Zeke was at the library with her, working on setting up three donated computers in an unused corner of the library. It would become a resource center for locals to use the internet and do research.
He left his work and joined Hannah and me at her desk. There were no patrons, so we could speak without reservation. After greetings, I told the couple a little of what I had learned, and about finding Lynn, about Cecily and Alcina being safe, and about my plans to go out to the encampment to talk Felice into coming away with me.
Now that Ellie was on the track of the Arden/Bardo Voorhees mystery, it could ultimately result in murder charges. I didn’t tell Zeke and Hannah about my surmise about Esther and Bardo killing Arden Voorhees, preferring not to spill the beans before it was proved. We chatted, and they were happy Alcina was safe. Zeke asked me to try again to talk Gordy into leaving, but I was pretty sure I’d be spinning my wheels.
I was curious about Voorhees’s hideaway shack, so Zeke explained to me some technical facts, like how Voorhees was able to get cable and cell service even though the Light and the Way Ministry property was off the grid. He must have a generator, Zeke said, but also he had what we saw in Lizzie’s photos of the distant building: a satellite dish.
Hannah and Zeke exchanged a look, and Hannah said, “Merry, there is something else . . . what we called you here for. Zeke did some asking around among friends, and a fellow, Eddie Owens, whose family owns property on the same road—”
“Oh, is that Garth Owens’s son, maybe? The family owns the new butcher shop in town?”
“Yes, that’s them . . . anyway, he told Zeke there is a lot of coming and going near where that shack of Voorhees’s is, but farther back in the woods, shielded from the road and even from the shack.”
“What do you mean, a lot of coming and going? What’s out there? What, exactly, is coming and going?”
“Trucks,” Zeke said. “Lots of trucks.”
I thought of the times I had been out there, how a truck had almost run me off the road, and how one whizzed past me at full speed. Down a gravel road, for heaven’s sake! “On the cult’s compound?”
Hannah nodded. “Maybe . . . or the property right next to it.”
“The property next to it . . . but it takes up a corner of Bob Taggart’s land, right? So you’re saying his property could be involved?”
Zeke nodded. “Yeah. There’s this parking area down a lane in the woody part, and I can’t tell if it’s on the Light and the Way property or Bob Taggart’s.”
“How do you know about this?”
“One of Zeke’s friends . . .” She exchanged a look with Zeke. “He won’t tell the police about this, because he has his own . . . uh . . . secrets. He grows pot on a little patch of land nearby.”
“Is this maybe that same friend, Eddie Owens?” I asked.
“I’m not allowed to say,” Hannah primly answered. “But look, he got curious,” she said, bringing up a video on her computer. “So he flew a drone over the property. This is what he recorded.”
She hit the little arrow and the drone footage played.
“This is Silver Creek Line,” Zeke said, pointing on the screen with a pencil at the road the drone was flying over. “Just off Marker Road, around the corner from the Light and the Way encampment. That is the prophet’s shack there,” Zeke said, pointing to a flat-roofed shed with multiple vehicles parked around it and a satellite dish prominent on the roof. That would have been the shack Dewayne and Virgil broke into, where they found Isadore already rifling through the place. “But look over here, shielded from the road by all this brush . . .” He pointed as the drone footage dipped closer to earth.
You had to go a ways. Deep in the woods was a clearing reached by a winding lane. Through the leafy canopy I could make out white rectangles, and squinted. From the ground you might not even be able to see the clearing, it was so densely foliaged, and the lane twisted in a snaky S. Every turn of the lane would have c
oncealed what was beyond it, just as my own twisting lane leading to my castle did. As the drone dipped closer, though, I could identify something interesting. The clearing was an expansive graveled parking area; what appeared just as white rectangles from above were, upon closer inspection, trucks and truck trailers parked in a long row near a big fuel tank, and an industrial-sized generator. What was going on?
“What’s that over there?” I asked, pointing to a ramshackle house.
“Bob Taggart’s farmhouse. See what we mean? It’s hard to tell where the Light and the Way property ends and Bob Taggart’s farmland begins.”
“But it sure looks like those semis are being stored on Taggart’s farmland, directly behind his farmhouse, not on Light and the Way land.”
Zeke’s friend thought the prophet was likely running drugs, Hannah told me, which meant that the semi trailers could be full of contraband. That was quite possible. There is a thriving industry in drug smuggling between the U.S. and Canada, and we’re not far from the border. Even I knew that there was a booming business in cocaine and meth flowing from Mexico, through the States and to Canada and back. Fentanyl and ecstasy flow back. Something tugged at my brain, something involving the generator, but I shook my head. It would come to me, but only if I left it alone.
There were other possible items they could be smuggling: weapons, booze, cigarettes . . . Surprisingly, one of the biggest smuggling rings busted locally was so-called buttlegging, the smuggling of cigarettes from out of state into New York, where taxes on tobacco are sky-high compared with other states. There was also another commodity that was always in demand: women. I considered Barney’s well-known habit of meeting girls at the bus station. He had been run off from the Ridley Ridge bus station, but had he just moved on to Batavia, Henrietta, and beyond? I had an uneasy feeling. Especially now, with yet another girl missing.
“I have a feeling a tip to the sheriff’s department is in order,” I said.
Muffin But Trouble Page 21
