Last Writes (17 page)

Claudia couldn’t help being amused by that vision. “You mean that sweet little old Brother Norquist?”

“It’s actually not funny. I’d swear he was trying to hypnotize me. The sucky thing is, it almost worked. Between the heat in that room and his voice droning on and on like crinkly paper, I had to fight like hell not to go under. Indoctrination City, Claudia. I had to pinch my upper lip to stay awake.”

This was disturbing news. “What do you think he wanted you to do?”

“He didn’t come right out and say it, but the message I got was, I should first pay for some courses in how to be a good convert; then if I fit the mold, I would have a
strong
desire to turn over the rest of my worldly goods to the TBL and give my life over to the Lord so I could be saved. Only I think the Lord he was talking about is Harold Stedman.” Kelly shuddered. “It was a downright unpleasant experience. But I can understand how Erin got drawn into it, as young and vulnerable as she was when they got their hooks into her. They come along and take her off the street—for which I
am
grateful, make no mistake. But they become a substitute parent; pretty soon she owes everything to them. I bet it’s really tough for her to go against Stedman on this thing with Kylie. Shit. We’ve only got a couple more days to find her. Have you found out anything?”

Claudia brought her up to date on the handwritings she had analyzed that afternoon, and her encounter with Lynn Ryder.

“She sounds like a real charmer. I don’t like this no-locks-on-the-doors business. I intend to push that chair up against the front door as soon as you leave.” Kelly glowered at her. “No telling who might barge in.”

Claudia ignored the shot. “What I want to know is why Ryder was trying to get into my laptop. What did she think she would find? She’s taking this security chief bullshit a little too far.” The memory of her privacy being breached angered her anew. Then her conscience pricked her:
I’m doing the same thing.

“Maybe she was looking to find out why Stedman had you analyze her handwriting,” Kelly suggested.

“Well, she wouldn’t have found it in my damn laptop.” Claudia pulled her hair into a ponytail to get some air on her neck, then fanned herself with her hand. “The most interesting thing I’ve found out so far: I think one of the handwritings Stedman gave me was Rodney’s. It matched a sample I found in a personal file in his office.”

Kelly stared at her.
“Rodney’s?
He suspects Rodney of disloyalty? Maybe Stedman already knows about him taking Kylie. But that’s not logical, is it?”

“I don’t know, Kel. I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

“After my session with Methuselah, nothing would surprise me. These people are totally paranoid about the world outside those gates. They believe God wants them to keep separate from the rest of the great unwashed—which would include us, Grasshopper. Of course, the only way to salvation is to become one of them, yada-yada. You heard the rest of it the other night at the rally. They really believe the end of the world is upon us and they’re the only ones who are going to survive.” Kelly stopped for breath, looking troubled. “The creepy thing is, I got the impression that, for them, survival might actually mean death.”

“Say that again?”

“I know, twisted, huh? Remember that cult in San Diego a few years back? The members all killed themselves because they believed a spaceship was coming to pick them up and save them after they ‘crossed over’?”

“I remember. Weren’t they called Hale-Bopp, or something?”

“That was the name of the comet the spaceship was hiding behind. The group was called Heaven’s Gate.”

“They killed themselves and expected that they were going to be resurrected and taken to the UFO behind the Hale-Bopp comet. Did I get it right?”

“You got it.”

“And the TBL people believe something like that?”

“That’s definitely the vibe I got.”

Claudia puffed a breath through pursed lips. “Oh, man. That’s worse than we imagined. Okay, tomorrow,
I’ll
go to work on Brother Miller.”

 

 

 

Claudia hurried back along the path to the Victorian. She’d traveled the route enough times now that it was becoming familiar and the walk went quickly. Closing in on the clutch of buildings that included the dining hall, she came to a sudden halt, her eyes scanning the darkness for an indefinable something that had registered at the edge of her vision.

Then the crickets stopped chirping and the night went silent.

Instinctively, she stepped close to the nearest building, blending into the shadows cast by bright desert starlight on gray stucco walls. Unsure of what she was hiding from, she obeyed whatever primitive instinct was telling her to crouch low against the wall and stay close to the ground.

An instant later five robed figures appeared across the lawn, materializing as if from nowhere. Their faces were concealed by hoods, making it impossible to identify them in the darkness. Three of the figures hurried off in the direction of Ararat. The others went toward the Victorian.

Claudia held her body motionless, hardly daring to breathe as she followed them with her eyes. Realizing that her low vantage point might be skewing her perspective, she guessed that two of the figures were probably close to six feet tall, probably male. The others, several inches shorter, might have been either gender.

Who were these people, and where were they going, dressed as they were? Or perhaps the question should be
Where were they coming from?
Either way, judging from the furtive way they moved, Claudia was certain they would not welcome exposure.

She waited until they had vanished from sight and the crickets were stirring again before she straightened and fled to the Victorian.

 

The house loomed, its peaked roofs forming a shadow pyramid against the sky. The hooded figures she had seen in the darkness had unnerved her and Claudia ran the last twenty feet, dashing to the back door as if it were a safe haven.

In her absence, someone had turned off the night-light in the reception area. Concentrating on keeping quiet, she edged her way through the gloom and started up the staircase, cursing to herself when she stepped on a tread that creaked.

The strip of light still showed under Harold Stedman’s door and she tiptoed along the landing. Passing his office, she released a sigh. But her relief was short-lived. The door opened, revealing Stedman, who looked as though he might have just left a meeting.
Had a monk’s hooded robe covered his short-sleeve Oxford shirt and trousers a few minutes earlier?

In his hand was an envelope similar to the one Claudia had returned to him after dinner earlier that evening. “Good evening, Sister Rose, I thought for sure you must already be asleep by now. I saw a while ago that your car was in the yard out front.”

She thought she detected a mild hint of reproof in his voice. “After I got back from Riverside I went for a walk.”

“You shouldn’t be out so late alone.” He gave her a paternal smile. “Don’t be fooled, sister. We’re in the wilds up here. The woods are full of nocturnal animals, predatory animals. You should be more careful. I would be beside myself if you were attacked while you were here, in our care.”

“What sort of animals might there be, Mr. Stedman?”

“Coyotes for one. When they’re hungry and hunting in a pack, they’re extremely dangerous. Especially in this weather, they’re out there looking for food and water. We have a terrible time keeping them away from the small animals on the farm. You’d be surprised. They’ve run off with chickens, cats, even goats.”

Claudia knew he wasn’t talking about coyotes. The light from his desk lamp bled into the hallway, making his eyes dark and menacing in the shadows. He was issuing a warning; she was sure of it.

She didn’t plan to ask. “Thank you, Mr. Stedman. I appreciate the heads-up. Good night.”

“Oh, before you go, sister . . .”

Claudia turned back and he stepped into the hallway. As he got closer she could feel waves of body heat radiating off him, invading her space. She caught a whiff of some subtle unidentifiable odor. Not cologne or after-shave.
What is it?

“I know it’s late,” Stedman said. “But we haven’t had a moment to talk since you got here. How is your work coming along? Have you discovered anything that would be of interest to me?”

He spoke without particular inflection, but Claudia could feel his hunger for answers. She said, “I’ve come across a couple of handwritings that have raised some questions. But you have to remember, Mr. Stedman, these are not absolutes that I’m able to give you; they’re just markers, possibilities. You’ll have to also take a careful look at any other data you might have to confirm what my findings suggest.”

“Yes, yes, I fully understand that. Now, tell me what you’ve found so far.”

“As you know, there are no names on the samples, so I can’t identify them that way, but I do have some concerns about the one who mentions having been a dentist. It’s not so much that there was evidence that he was directly lying, but I believe he wasn’t telling everything. He was holding something back.”

Stedman’s expression didn’t change, but she saw a flicker of interest in his eyes. Then he nodded as if her information settled something for him. “Lying by omission, is that what you mean?”

“Possibly. I’m sorry I can’t be more definite, but this is not an exact science.”

“All right. Anything else I should know?”

“There was a woman who I believe might have been less than truthful in what she wrote about. She mentioned an abusive husband.”

“Is that everything?”

“For now, yes.”

“Thank you very much, Sister Rose. I’m looking forward to reading your complete report when you’re finished.” He indicated the envelope in his hand. “I’ll also have a few more handwritings for you to analyze tomorrow. I’m planning to be away from the Ark for a few hours in the morning, so Sister Ryder will deliver them to you after breakfast.”

Claudia hesitated. She wanted to ask him whether he had sent Lynn Ryder to snoop in her room while she was away, but that was a nonstarter. She was sure he would never tell the truth about it if he had. “Will there be any other samples after that?” she asked.

“I think this will be all for now. There could be more later.”

“Then, after I’ve examined the new samples, I’ll get all my findings together and write up my report. We’ll leave tomorrow afternoon. Would you like me to take those samples with me now?”

“No, I don’t want them out of my hands overnight.”

“All right then, I’ll say good night.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment and Claudia turned away again. She knew his eyes were on her as she walked to her room. It wasn’t until she reached her room that the light in the long hallway dimmed, there was a distant click, and she knew that Stedman had finally closed his door.

She quickly changed into her nightclothes and took her toiletries bag to the bathroom across the hall to prepare for bed. His sudden appearance disturbed her. Had he been waiting for her, listening for her footsteps on the stairs?

As she was brushing her teeth, she realized that she hadn’t mentioned her observations about Lynn Ryder’s handwriting. Why had she held back? Maybe meeting Ryder face-to-face put a different light on it. Having not met the other writers allowed her to maintain some distance.

Following Kelly’s lead, she propped the desk chair under the doorknob. It might not stop someone entering, but it would at least be an early warning system.

Even though the temperature had dropped, the guest room was still too warm for sleep. She could have used a cold beer, but doubted anything of the sort would be at the Ark, even if she had known where to find it.

Earlier, on the way to the university, she’d stopped at a 7-Eleven and picked up a bottle of water, which was in her briefcase, still half full.

Claudia opened the briefcase and reached for the bottle. Tepid water wasn’t exactly a substitute for Dos Equis, but it sure as hell beat being parched. Too tired to do any work, she decided to arrange her lecture notes. She got out the folder with her notes and laid it on the desk. Inside among the papers she found a torn piece of lined notebook paper that had not been there earlier.

It was a note addressed to her:

The note was unsigned, but what stunned her even more than the words was the handwriting, which Claudia recognized at once.

The writing was a match for the samples she had discovered at the back of Rodney Powers’s file cabinet.

Even though she didn’t have the other writing to compare with it side by side, there was no question in her mind. This handwriting shared the same features as the file cabinet writing. The same uphill baselines; the same jumpy, nervous rhythm.

Claudia’s mind went back to the note Erin had showed her and Kelly—the one written by her husband. She was reasonably certain that the handwriting had substantial differences from the handwriting she had viewed in Rodney’s office and thus was different from this one, too. Her memory of Erin’s note was that the writing had been block printed with heavy pressure, unlike the one she held in her hand. In this one, the ink trail had light pressure and stayed very much on the surface of the paper. The pen tip made no impression at all. She knew that it was virtually impossible for two such different pressure patterns to be adopted by the same writer.