Last Writes (20 page)

“For what reason?”

“He couldn’t tell me that.”

“So they’re under FBI watch, but we don’t know why?”

“That’s about it. You know the Feds, it could be anything—Homegrown terrorists. Money laundering. Kidnapping. You choose.”

Claudia massaged her neck, willing the pounding behind her right eye to stop. “Okay, so the Feds are ‘looking at them.’ What about the note I got? It claims there’s proof of
something
going on at the Ark. Do you think that might be what the Feds are investigating?”

“Could be. But it could also be intended as a decoy to throw you off track.”

“If Rodney didn’t put the note in my briefcase, who else would have done it? Stedman
invited
me to the Ark. And if Rodney did do it, why would he want to throw me off track? And what about the difference in the handwriting on the note in my briefcase and the one Erin showed us?”

“We need to get that note you found to the Feds. They can check it for prints.”

“Joel, how long has this investigation been going on?”

“A couple of years. It’s about to come to a head, which means it’s absolutely vital that it doesn’t get fucked up now.”

“That’s it? This is what you wanted me to keep confidential? This cult is being investigated but we don’t know why? That’s pretty weak.”

Jovanic was silent and Claudia prepared for what she deduced was going to be the real news.

“There
is
something more. But . . .”

“I’ve already told you, you’ve got my word. If you don’t trust that, then don’t tell me.”

“You know I trust you completely. It’s just a twitchy situation.” He sounded annoyed. “When my buddy started putting out feelers, it set off an alert. He was contacted by the case agent in charge of the investigation, who wanted to know exactly who was asking about Stedman and the group, and exactly why they wanted to know. So when my buddy told him I was LAPD, but was asking unofficially, the case agent called me directly. I had to explain to him what you and Kelly were doing at the TBL compound.” Jovanic went silent, and Claudia’s intuition started pinging again, but she never guessed what he told her next.

“The Feds have an operative at the Ark, in deep cover.”

“The only reason he clued me in was because my guy vouched for me. Undercover operations are extremely sensitive. They can’t risk a
whisper
of it getting out—not only to safeguard the operation, but as you can imagine, for the safety of the operative.” Jovanic gave a short laugh. “You know those federal agents are so tough, they never break a sweat. But when this guy heard what you were doing, he freaked; said your presence could put his operation in jeopardy. You and Kelly have to get out immediately and leave it to the professionals.”

Claudia took a swig of water from the bottle she’d brought with her and swallowed a couple of extra-strength aspirin. “But Joel, what about the ‘proof’ my note mentioned?”

“That’s something you’ll have to leave to the Feds, babe.”

“Maybe the person who left me the note will make contact again and tell me what I’m supposed to know there’s proof of.” She watched a small lizard run into the road, hesitate, then turn back, scurrying onto the dirt berm. “The whole thing is so hard to fathom: there’s the first set of samples with the handwritings that match—the one Stedman gave me with the jumpy printing, plus the one I found at the back of Rod’s file cabinet. But neither of those matched the writing Erin showed us. Then there’s the note in my briefcase that apparently I’m supposed to
assume
came from Rod because of what it says about ‘my child,’ but that also doesn’t match the one Erin showed us, nor either of the other two. Then there’s the sample in the other envelope that
does
match Erin’s note. Jeez, no wonder I have a headache.”

“Bring the note home with you; we’ll have to turn it over to the case agent.”

A spurt of professional jealousy. “So he can give it to
their
handwriting experts. Do they have samples to compare it to?”

“That’s not our problem. I just want you out of there before things get ugly. The investigation is on the verge of breaking wide open. I don’t want you involved when that happens.”

“I know, honey. You never want me involved, and it just seems to happen anyway. I guess graphology can be as dangerous as police work, huh?” It was easy to joke about it from a distance.

“Don’t try to distract me, Grapho Lady. How soon can you get your stuff packed up and get out of there?”

Claudia felt a tightening in her gut. “I don’t know what to do about Kelly. God only knows what they’ve done to her. I don’t think it was just hypnosis. I think she was drugged; her pupils were enormous. How am I going to get her out of there?”

“Do you want me to come and—”

“No, Joel. Thanks, but I’ll think of something.” Claudia mentally calculated the time she would need. “According to Rita, she’ll be released from the class for the noon meal. I’ll go pack our stuff and get ready. We’ll leave as soon as I can get her in the car. Too bad Stedman has insisted on taking back all the handwriting samples. I still have the set I got from Lynn Ryder today. They’re in my briefcase.”

“Just leave them at the Ark,” Jovanic said impatiently. “Leave it to the undercover agent on site. The guy in charge can alert him. You have to get out of there.”

Claudia said goodbye, making a promise to call him when she and Kelly were on the way home. She made a U-turn and drove back to the Ark with misgivings that grew stronger with every mile.

 

 

 

Avoiding the front steps to the Victorian, Claudia took the side path that led to the back of the house.

The women were out working in the fields. One of them looked up and waved—Karen Harrison. The newest recruit had received a tough work assignment.

Maybe it’s a test of her commitment,
Claudia thought as she left the path and made her way across rows of string beans and eggplant, careful to avoid stepping in the plants. Karen Harrison had returned her attention to the tomatoes she was inspecting and carefully placing in a tray. She did not look up when Claudia called her name.

“Karen,” Claudia spoke louder. “Could I speak with you?”

The woman looked up then. “I’m Sister Harrison now,” she said. Her eyes had the same unfocused quality she’d seen in Kelly’s.

“Were you in a class with Ke—Sister Brennan this morning?”

Karen tipped her head to the side. “Sister Brennan? I think so. Oh, yes, she was the disruptive one.” She went back to searching the tomato vines for the fruit she wanted.

“What do you mean, disruptive?” Claudia asked, though she wasn’t surprised. The Kelly she knew would find it hard to just sit quietly and listen to the TBL teachings without debating anything she disagreed with.

Karen glanced up again, looking anxious. “Kept arguing with Brother Johnson. He had to escort her out.”

“Do you know where he took her?”

“Reeducation room.”

What the hell is the reeducation room?
Was that where Kelly had been drugged? Drugging a guest for being “disruptive” had to be against some law. The FBI might be interested in that bit of information.

“Do you know where the reeducation room is?” Claudia asked her.

Karen shrugged, shook her head.

 

The Ararat building seemed deserted. Claudia checked her watch: eleven twenty-five. The occupants would still be at their work assignments. If she moved fast, there should be enough time to get Kelly’s belongings packed up before she was released for lunch. She hurried to the four-story building and took the elevator to the third floor. As there was no lock on the apartment doors, she went straight inside number 339.

The room had a Murphy bed that could be stored in the wall opposite the couch. Kelly had left the bed down, as if she’d gone out that morning in a rush.

There was a kitchenette with a bar fridge that had an electric hot plate on top and a small wooden table with two chairs. With all meals served in the dining hall, there wasn’t much point in giving space to food storage and preparation. One more means of controlling the members, it seemed—keep them where they could be seen most of the time.

On one wall of the living room was a set of framed colored prints that Claudia had been too preoccupied to notice the night before when she had burst in on Kelly and James. She studied them now. The first was a skyscape: dark, towering storm clouds, forked lightning slamming into the earth. The second could have been taken from Hieronymus Bosch’s
Last Judgment:
a scene of destruction—floods, fires, the earth torn open by a monstrous earthquake. Human figures tortured by repulsive black-winged creatures with pitchforks.

The third print, a family scene, was the polar opposite of the others and portrayed a multigeneration family in soft pastels. The children played catch with a golden retriever while parents and grandparents looked on from a background of lush, brilliantly colored plants. A soft gold halo gave the scene an otherworldly glow. Everyone in the picture wore a happy smile.
Rockwellesque. Or should that be Rockwellian? Orwellian was more like it.

Claudia sank down on the couch, taking a moment to center her thoughts. It was clear to her that the paintings were grouped in that sequence to convey a message. The earth and everyone on it is going to be destroyed except Temple of Brighter Light members who get to go someplace else and live happily ever after. As long as they do what the governing board tells them to, of course. No independent thinking here.

The message conveyed by the pictures disturbed her. She got up and turned her back on them, starting on the task she had come to Kelly’s room to complete.

Kelly’s suitcase was in the closet. She unzipped it and opened it on the floor. The shorts and T-shirt from the evening before were strewn across the unmade bed. Claudia scooped them up, along with lingerie and a nightgown, and tossed them into the suitcase, then started pulling garments off hangers. Kelly wasn’t one to travel light. She’d brought enough outfits to last a week, and shoes to match.

Claudia checked her watch again. Eleven fifty. She emptied the medicine cabinet, stuffing hair spray, toothpaste, and mouthwash into the toiletries bag; added the makeup from the vanity.

Should she wait here in case Kelly came to her room before going to the dining hall? Knowing her friend, she would want to freshen up before the midday meal. Or should she go to the classroom and try to nab her as she walked out the door?
Ten minutes, I’ll give it ten minutes.

She tossed the toiletries bag into the suitcase and zipped it up. Once she got hold of Kelly, they would have to return to her room and get her bag. Claudia still needed to pack her own things.

Too impatient to wait. Downstairs and out the front door. She would return later for the suitcase.

Twenty feet from the dining hall entrance, she recognized the back of Kelly’s blond head through the crowd. She was at the front of the line and had disappeared inside before Claudia could reach her.

Excusing herself, Claudia pressed her way past the queue of TBLers waiting to get into the dining hall. As she entered the room she saw Lynn Ryder headed her way. Ignoring the security chief, she forged ahead.

“Kelly!”

Kelly either failed to hear, or ignored Claudia’s attempts to get her attention, and seated herself next to Harold Stedman, who had returned from his early morning absence. The other governing board members were filtering in and taking their places at the head table. Claudia noted that two of them were quite tall. She tried to picture them in dark, hooded robes, and decided they might well have been among those mysterious figures that had alarmed her the previous evening.

“Sister Rose.” Lynn Ryder’s voice over her shoulder.

Claudia turned, not bothering to pretend to be polite. “What do you want?”

Ryder faltered; her eyes narrowed. “I just wondered when we could have that chat about handwriting.”

“I don’t know. This isn’t a good time.” Claudia left her standing there and moved toward the head table. Handwriting was the last thing she wanted to think about right now.

Stedman indicated the empty chair at his other side. “Good afternoon, Sister Rose, please join us.”

Claudia stayed where she was on her side of the table. “I need to take Kelly and leave right now. We have an emergency.”

Kelly was huddled over her plate, protecting her food like a jailed felon. She glanced up for a moment, then returned to the meal before her, attacking it as if she were starving.

“An emergency?” Stedman repeated. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Claudia had already decided to give him a near truth. “My boyfriend has been ill. He’s taken a turn for the worse and needs me at home right away.”

Stedman’s face wore a sympathetic expression. “I’m very sorry to hear that, sister. We’ll certainly pray for his recovery, and if there’s anything we can do—”

Claudia shook her head and thanked him. “Kelly, we need to go.”

Kelly glanced up again. “Can’t you see I’m eating?”

Even in that brief moment, Claudia could see that the vacant look hadn’t left her. If she ever got her out of here, Kelly would need a month in therapy to work this through. “We need to go
now.
We can stop at a drive-thru on the way home.”

“I’m hungry now.”

Claudia glared at Stedman. “What’s going on? Why is she behaving this way? What did they do to her in that class?”

Harold Stedman looked back at her, eyebrows arched in surprise. “I’m not sure what you mean. Sister Brennan requested to learn more about the end-of-times and the new order, so room was made for her in that class.” He touched Kelly’s hand and she stopped eating to look at him. “No one has done anything to her. Have they, sister?”