Last Writes (21 page)

Her cloudy blue eyes met his and locked on them. She shook her head and spoke, still looking at Stedman. “No one has done anything to me. I’m fine. For heaven’s sake, sit down, Claudia; have some lunch, it’s really good.”

Stedman’s round face held nothing more than compassion. “Sister Rose, if you want to leave and go take care of your boyfriend, why don’t you go ahead. Sister Brennan will stay here with us. We’ll bring her to our next rally on Wednesday when we return to the Valley.”

“She has to be in court on Monday,” Claudia said, pulling the excuse out of the air. She felt an impulse to grab Kelly and drag her away from Stedman’s influence, but she was beginning to doubt her ability to get Kelly to leave with her at all. She considered the possibility that Kelly might be faking her behavior for some reason, but those dilated eyes were too real. The wide, dark pupils had all but blotted out the blue irises.

“I’ll wait.” Claudia moved around the table and took the seat Stedman had offered her, feeling like Alice joining the Mad Hatter’s tea party. Someone slid a plate in front of her: enchiladas covered in red sauce, a mound of rice, refried beans, corn cake. Heavy food for the middle of the day. She picked at it, not hungry, not wanting to get sleepy on all the starchy carbs and lose her edge when Kelly finally decided she was ready to go.

For the first ten minutes the meal progressed with little conversation. Claudia couldn’t help glancing around the dining hall, wondering which member might be the FBI operative. Had she met him yet? Did Stedman guess there was a mole in his organization? Was that why he had hired her—to help him smoke out the mole?

She thought back on what she had said to him about the problematic handwriting samples—the ones whose truthfulness she had questioned. She had told him that the man who claimed to be a dentist had been withholding information. Was the information he was withholding that he was really an FBI operative?

A young man brought Harold Stedman a portable microphone. Stedman rose and called for the members’ attention. Instantly, there was the clatter of forks being laid on plates. All eyes turned in his direction.

Stedman’s voice as he spoke into the microphone was somber. “Brothers and sisters, I regret to inform you that I must make an unfortunate announcement. You may have noticed that Brother John Talbot is not with us today.” He took a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and donned them, then picked up a letter-sized envelope on the table beside his plate. Removing a sheet of paper and unfolding it, he began to read.

“ ‘The judicial commission of the governing board has met and counseled John Talbot for behavior that will not be tolerated by the Temple of Brighter Light. After several such meetings, this person was deemed unrepentant and therefore he has been excommunicated.’ ”

An audible gasp went through the room. Claudia heard someone break out in sobs. She caught sight of James Miller at the head of his table. He looked stricken.

Stedman continued reading.

“‘This individual has been put outside the gates of the Ark and will not be readmitted for any reason. His name no longer means anything to us. Members are not to speak to him or aid him in any way. He is no longer one of us. Anyone who gives this person assistance will be considered just like him and the same punishment will be meted out.

“ ‘Curiosity about this person’s misdeeds is inappropriate and you are not to discuss this matter among yourselves. From this day forward, your former brother ceases to exist.’ ” His gaze roamed the room, resting on one shocked face after another before continuing to read the announcement.

“‘Brothers and sisters, as you know, the governing board is the Lord God’s spokesman here on earth. We accept the information given by the board without question. To question the righteousness of the board is to question the Lord himself.’ ”

Stedman refolded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. He cast an unsmiling look at his congregation as if daring the members to argue with the edict he had just read, and resumed his seat.

Claudia thought of the ghostly figures she had seen the evening before and wondered again whether they made up the judicial commission Stedman spoke of, meeting like some secret society to decide the fate of John Talbot.

And she wondered what Talbot might have done to deserve such a punishment. He had probably sat at one of the tables in this dining hall just yesterday. Had she seen him from a distance as she’d walked through the Ark’s grounds the day before? The announcement drifted like a pall of ashes over the members. Their faces were as downcast and sorrowful as any she had seen at a funeral.

“What will happen to this man now?” she asked Harold Stedman, guessing that this excommunication business might have been the reason for his early morning absence.
Had he driven John Talbot into town?
Surely he wouldn’t have literally put him outside the Ark’s gate with no transportation. There were miles of deserted highway between here and Hemet or any other town. Even starting out walking early in the morning, the heat could be dangerous.

Stedman had no hold over Claudia. She wasn’t obliged to follow his instructions to let the matter drop. “Did you give him some money at least?” she quizzed. “Does he have family outside the Ark? How is he supposed to care for himself when his entire emotional support system is probably right here in this room?”

Stedman cocked his head to one side. “How is your work coming along, sister? I’m eager to hear the results of your analysis.”

Claudia wanted to shout at him that this was all bullshit, but Jovanic’s warning hummed in her brain. She’d had enough. She turned to Kelly and snapped, “I’ll pick you up at your room after lunch.”

Without waiting for a response, she got up and stalked the length of the dining hall. As she passed James’s table, she noted his pallor. Felt his eyes following her all the way to the door.

 

 

 

By the time she reached her room, Claudia had worked herself into a lather. Grabbing her overnight bag, she began stuffing clothes into it, not bothering to fold the pants into neat, flat squares or roll the T-shirts to fit into the corners. Shoes went in on top, other bits and pieces following willy-nilly. She cleared out the bathroom and zipped the laptop into its case.

After a last fleeting glance to make sure she had forgotten nothing, she carried everything down to the car, thankful not to meet Rita along the way, and loaded the trunk.

With every step her mind buzzed:
If John Talbot, the excommunicated member, was the undercover FBI operative, would the operation be scrubbed? Was he the one who had written about being a dentist? The one who Claudia had told Harold Stedman was problematic?
The thought nauseated her. What would she tell Jovanic? That she had inadvertently helped ruin several years’ worth of careful investigation by outing the operative? Her stomach churned with anxiety, making her wish for a Rolaids.

The sun beat on her bare head and neck as she made her way back to Ararat, trying to formulate a plan for getting Kelly out of the Ark if she continued to resist. One-oh-seven in the shade, the radio weatherman had predicted on her drive back the previous evening. She wouldn’t be surprised if the temperature exceeded even that outrageous number. On top of that, the humidity was unusually high for Hemet, and the air was as sticky as cotton candy.

Her brain felt mushy as she made her second ascent of the day to Kelly’s second-floor apartment. How could anyone live in this heat? Every step felt like a mountain. Just putting thoughts together was a major effort.

Recalling Kelly’s dilated pupils, she wondered how the drug had been delivered.
In food?
Claudia considered the possibility that her own sluggishness might be the result of something that had been introduced into the food on her plate. There was no way she could be sure. Luckily, she had eaten very little.

She tapped on the door of number 339, hoping that by now, Kelly would have somehow recovered and be ready to go. The door opened and she got a shock.

Not Kelly.

“Magdalena! What are you doing here? Where’s Kelly?”

The girl who had shepherded them around at the rally regarded Claudia with equal surprise. She held a dust rag and wore a long white apron over her shift. A babushka-type scarf covered her hair. “I’m cleaning Sister Brennan’s apartment,” Magdalena said. “Sister Goldberg sent me. It’s my job, housecleaning. She’s my supervisor.”

That explained the sweat on her forehead and her flushed face. But it didn’t explain her nervousness.

“Where is Kelly?” Claudia asked again.

“Um, she’s not here, sister.”

“You mean she hasn’t come back from lunch?” Claudia looked past Magdalena, noting that the Murphy bed had been returned to its storage place in the wall cabinet and the living room was spotless. The bags she had packed earlier were no longer standing where she had left them. “Where is she?” she repeated, hardening her tone.

“Sister Goldberg told me she got ill at lunch. She was taken to the infirmary.”

“What are you talking about? I was with her in the dining hall a half hour ago. She wasn’t ill then.”

Magdalena’s face registered alarm and Claudia realized her voice had risen to a near-yell. Whatever had happened to Kelly was not Magdalena’s fault. Claudia lowered her voice and made an effort to control her rising fear.

“Where’s the infirmary, Magda? Either tell me, or take me there.”

 

Martha Elkins stood behind the counter in the Ark’s medical office with her arms crossed, her severe expression mocking the cheerful flowered scrubs she wore. Claudia could feel the force of her disapproval, and wondered where it stemmed from.

“Something she ate, I expect,” Martha said when she asked what was wrong with Kelly. “Brother Jarrett is with her right now. You’ll have to wait and see if he’s going to allow her to have visitors. He’s the doctor.”

On the way over to the infirmary, Claudia had promised herself that she would remain calm, in control. She knew she wouldn’t get anywhere if she allowed herself to go ballistic. But now she felt her temper boiling up again. “Everyone ate the same thing, didn’t they? Did anyone else get sick?”

Martha’s face was set in uncompromising lines, as if she were preparing to do battle. “I haven’t heard of anyone yet, but that could always change. Anyway, it might have been just one batch that was affected. Or maybe she has the flu.”

“She didn’t look like she had the flu when I saw her. In fact, she was eating more than I’ve ever seen her eat. What she looked like was drugged.”

Martha Elkins frowned. “Drugged? You’re saying she’s a druggie? We don’t allow addicts here. If she’s a druggie, Brother Stedman will insist on her leaving as soon as she’s able.”

Was the woman being deliberately obtuse? “She’s not a goddamned drug addict!”

“Sister, mind your language! And if you won’t lower your voice, you’ll have to step outside.”

“Kelly is not an addict,” Claudia said through gritted teeth. “It’s obvious someone slipped her something. I want to talk to the instructor of that class she was in this morning.”

“You think someone at the Ark drugged your friend? That’s outrageous! As if—”

A man in a white lab coat rounded the corner and stood beside her at the counter. In his sixties, thin-faced with frameless glasses. He handed the clipboard he was holding to Martha Elkins. “What’s all the racket about? Don’t you realize we have sick people here, sisters? They need their peace and quiet.” His gaze rested on Claudia. “I believe you are Sister Rose, Sister Brennan’s friend. I’m Dr. Jarrett.”

“Yes, I’m Claudia Rose. Would you tell me what’s going on here?”

“Your friend doesn’t have a fever at the moment, but she’s been complaining of stomach pains. She’s lying down and I’ve given her a sedative. She needs to rest.”

“I’d like to see her, please.”

“You can see her if you stay only a minute or two, before the medicine takes effect.”

Claudia quickly agreed to the terms and the doctor nodded at Martha Elkins. The nurse told her to follow, and led her through a door marked Private and along a hallway bounded by closed doors on either side.

Opening one of the doors to a small private room, Martha stood aside. Claudia walked into the room and felt her heart skip a beat. Lying in a hospital bed with her eyes closed, the lashes dark against waxy cheeks, Kelly looked like a corpse. She wore a hospital gown, her arms arranged on top of the sheet at her sides. In the corner, an electric floor fan hummed, blowing tepid air at the bed.

Martha stood in the doorway until Claudia turned and glared at her. “Would you mind leaving? Close the door behind you, please.”

She felt a tug on her hand. She looked down and found that Kelly’s eyes were half open. She said something in a weak voice too faint to make out. Leaning down, Claudia put her ear close to Kelly’s lips.

“What happened?” Kelly whispered.

“They drugged you.” Claudia kept her voice low. She doubted there would be electronic surveillance in the infirmary, but under the circumstances it seemed preferable to err on the side of caution. “What happened in that class you went to?”

Kelly shook her head. “Don’t remember anything, except . . . was talking to that woman . . . security woman, then . . . nothing. I was walking into the cafeteria.” She sounded bewildered. “Lost the whole morning. Like going on a bender; waking up not knowing where I’d been or what I’d done, but I didn’t have any booze. Claudia, what happened to me?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, Kel, but I’d already packed your things and was ready to take you home. Why didn’t you just come with me when I asked you to?”