Into the Light (24 page)

While she worked, Raquel spoke about the other Assembly wives. There were twelve of us altogether. I couldn’t keep up with all the names. One named Deborah was expecting a baby very soon. I was confident that I’d be able to spot her in the crowd. Another named Esther had recently had her second. Apparently she was very tired, especially with her time away from her job coming to an end. I learned that the Assembly wives didn’t sit together only at service, but that twice a week, during prayer meetings, we met separately with the Commission wives for study. Even the word
Commission
made me bristle.

“Raquel, what do you know about what happened today, with Jacob I mean? How’d he get you here?”

She shrugged. “I really don’t know. Benjamin was the one who told me I could come. I didn’t know about what’d happened, umm . . . with your hair . . . until Brother Jacob told me during the drive here.”

I bit my lip. “I’m afraid he’ll get in trouble if he pursues this, and I’m also afraid they’ll come back.”

She was looking at me and shaking her head.

My hand went to my hair. “Is it worse?”

“No!” Her worried expression morphed to one of glee. “Not at all. It really is cute. I remember this style, longer in front than in back. It fits your face very well.”

“Well, thank you for fixing it, but I want it to grow back.”

“It will.”

After a quick glance toward the door, I whispered, “You remember the dark?”

She nodded.

“What’s it . . . is it . . . ?” I sagged my shoulders. “I don’t remember. I wish I did. I wish I remembered anything.”

“It may all come back. I know I work with Dr. Newton, but I don’t know that much about memory things. I know what I’ve been taught.”

I contemplated the dark. It seemed like such a scary place.

Why would I take Jacob’s keys? Why would I want to leave people like Raquel?

“There!” she proclaimed. Removing the towel from my shoulders and looking to the floor, she said, “Oh, Sara, I’m sorry. We should have put towels on the ground. I’ve made a mess.”

I stood and brushed the hair from my lap. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it cleaned up. First I want to see.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Raquel looked as if she were about to burst. “I want you to, but I think we should wait—”

“Please, don’t say for Jacob. I want to see my own reflection.” I might have sounded like a three-year-old, but I wanted to see.

“I tell you what. Where’s the broom? Let’s get this cleaned, and if he’s not back, you can slip into the bathroom.”

I liked her. She didn’t tell me I was willful or prideful. She’d even offered to hold Lilith down while I cut her hair. I wrapped her in my arms for a quick hug. “Thank you, Raquel. I’ll miss you during the next week. I can’t wait to get back to the community.”

“Good. We all want you back.”

As we were putting the broom and dustpan away, the door to the garage opened. Deciding to err on the side of caution, I forgot about the mirror and hurried toward the door.

Despite his unfamiliar eyes, his smile melted me. In the eyes I didn’t remember I saw love and adoration that filled me with warmth like a flame to a candle.

Tenderly Jacob brushed my cheek and lifted the hair near my face. As he let it fall, his grin grew. “I like it. Turn around.”

I did. When our eyes met again he reached for my hand.

“Have you seen it?”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Raquel’s change in expression and had to consciously keep from rolling my eyes.

“Then let’s go.” Jacob tugged my hand. “Close your eyes,” he commanded, as we neared the bathroom.

I did as he said, and he led me to the vanity. The warmth of his body behind me filled me with strength. With his hands on my hips, he told me to open my eyes. There in the mirror were two strangers. I opened my eyes wider, watching the woman in the mirror do the same. When I lifted my hair, so did she. Jacob’s description of its color had been accurate, corn silk and sunshine—very blonde. Raquel was also right: the way the hair framed my cheeks worked with my oval face. I tilted my head from side to side. Though I hadn’t seen it before, my hair was now all even with layers toward the back. Soon the anxiety left my eyes, mellowing them, leaving behind a baby-blue sheen of contentment. Directly behind and above me in the mirror was Jacob watching my every move.

When I finally shrugged, I lifted a corner of my mouth in a half smile. “I guess it’s all right.”

Raquel squealed from the doorway and clapped her hands. I hadn’t realized she was standing there.

“Sara.” In one word he reprimanded me. “All right?” he asked, repeating my words.

Lowering my chin, I raised my eyes and met his gaze in the reflection. “No, it’s better than
all right
. It’s cute.”

His smile blossomed. “That’s better.”

While I retrieved everyone’s coats, Jacob said, “Sara, you’ll need your coat too.”

My lips snapped shut, holding back the questions that threatened to come forth. Finally I said, “All right.”

I hadn’t noticed it before—because I hadn’t been able to see—but the truck had a backseat. Raquel and I sat there while Jacob drove and Dr. Newton rode in front. For most of the ride, Jacob and Dr. Newton discussed things and people with names I didn’t recognize. Getting to the community wasn’t as easy as it had sounded. There were three different rows of fences with gates. The inside one was more of a wall. Codes were needed to open each gate. The whole setup seemed pretty elaborate for polar bears. With each new barrier I felt unfamiliarity and uneasiness.

No matter what, I was ready to be back inside the fences and walls; obviously it was much safer in there than out where we were. I stared at the unfamiliar buildings as we drove into the community.

When we arrived at the clinic, Raquel gave me a hug before getting out. “One week, I can’t wait.”

“Thank you for this,” I said, pinching my hair with my gloved hands.

“You’ll start a trend; I’m almost certain.”

I knew that wouldn’t happen, but it made me smile.

I wanted to move to the front, but instead I bit my lip and waited. It didn’t take long until Jacob gave me permission. I understood how Raquel, or anyone, could have problems with patience. Waiting for permission to do things that seemed natural seemed, well, unnatural. Once my seat belt was fastened, I couldn’t get enough of what was outside the windows. There were people of all ages and skin colors coming and going, some other vehicles, and many buildings. It truly was a community. Despite the cold, there wasn’t a lot of snow.

“Does it help to see? Is it coming back?” Jacob asked.

“Yes, it helps to see, but no, it’s not coming back.”

He laid his hand on my leg, just as he’d done the first day he drove us out to the pole barn. I placed mine on top of his, seeing the difference in size for the first time. As our fingers intertwined, he replied, “That makes sense.” Glancing my way and then back to the road, his brow furrowed. “I think I was hoping . . .”

“I’m sorry. So was I.”

His hand squeezed mine. “But you can see. That’s the most important thing.”

“I disagree. If that’s wrong, you can punish me, but my sight isn’t the most important thing to me.”

I saw the surprise in his expression. “You do? It’s not?” With a hint of amusement in his tone, he continued, “Well, you’ve gone this far, please continue. What is the most important part, to you?”

Shit!
I hadn’t thought that offer through.

Forcing a smile and pretending I hadn’t just volunteered for punishment, I replied, “The part where you didn’t leave me alone in the pole barn. That’s the most important thing to me. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth went up. “I hope you like Sister Ruth.”

“Oh, I do!”

“Good, because she’ll be with you whenever I need to fly. Tomorrow I have a short trip to Fairbanks for supplies.”

Though the road was still rough, my ribs were much better than they’d been a week before. I sighed and leaned back against the seat.

“What is it?”

I pursed my lips before revealing a grin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep through any more of Father Gabriel’s lessons.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Though he’d made his tone serious, now that I could see the gleam in his brown eyes, I knew he was teasing.

“Not intentionally. I only remember doing it that one time, that I’ve already told you about.”

“Sister Ruth will keep you honest.”

“I’m already honest.”

He lifted our gloved hands to his lips. “I liked seeing you with Raquel. It reminds me of how it was before . . .”

“Thank you for doing whatever you did to get permission for her to come out. I feel a lot better about everything than I did yesterday.”

“That’s my job.”

I lifted his hand and brushed it against my cheek. “You’re very good at it.”

CHAPTER 24

Stella

I giggled as Dylan teased my neck, gently pulling back my long hair and kissing that spot that sent goose bumps up and down my arms and legs.

“You don’t play fair,” I said, through laughter and chills. “What if I had work to do at home?” The truth was that I wanted this break as much as he did.

“You work too much; besides, I never claimed to play fair.”

I did work too much, not that it’d done me any good as of late. I’d spent the majority of my spare time in the last week home alone, devoted to my quest. Turning toward Dylan, I kissed his soft lips. “I’m glad you talked me out of work tonight, but you’re a cop—aren’t you supposed to be fair and be all about the rules?”

His kisses dipped lower. “I’ll never be fair when it comes to you. If I have to play dirty to get you to spend time with me, I’ll do it every time, and as for rules, I never took you as much of a rule person.”

I reached for his face and pulled his stunning blue gaze to mine. “You’re right. I don’t do the rule thing, not very well, at least. Tell me, though”—I grinned—“if you made rules, would breaking them be fun?”

His sexy bedroom expression morphed into a bright smile. “You’re something else. In the mood of hot, popular women’s fiction, sure, I’m willing, but in real life . . . hell, no. I’m not into that, and besides, I wouldn’t try to change your sexier-than-shit rebellious ways. I can only think of one rule that might make me change my mind.”

My shoulders slumped. This was a subject I was tired of debating. “I can’t help where my job takes me.”

He sat up with his stubbly jaw set and the muscles in his cheeks clenching. “I don’t know how to emphasize this any other way. Do not go to Highland Heights. If I have to fucking go talk to Barney, I will.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

This wasn’t some pissing contest. It was my life and my decisions. Besides, Bernard didn’t even know I’d been in Highland Heights the week before. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not that I’d learned anything definitive. When I couldn’t run back down Second Avenue, because of the men and the SUV, I’d gone around the block, looping around the old school. From an empty lot I had a view of the back of the old school building. In an area covered on both sides by the building, there was a greenhouse. It wasn’t big; nonetheless there were about a half-dozen women in it, moving around. If I were to take everything at face value, I’d say that the greenhouse allowed The Light to grow the produce for its Preserve the Light preserves. Then I’d say that in that old school building, the women were making preserves. If I logically took it one more step, I’d say The Light’s cars crossed the border daily to deliver jellies and jams.

What I’d spent the majority of last week deciding was if everything was truly that logical. Was I paranoid by nature, or was my gut telling me that it was a cover for something else?

Since my greenhouse discovery over a week before, I’d furthered my research. That didn’t mean I’d advanced my knowledge on The Light. Information on the church was limited at best, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t as they appeared.

Maybe everything made too much sense?

Dylan stood, bringing me back to the present, and ran his hand through his dark-blond hair. “Tell me that you haven’t been back to Highland Heights, not since I took you there. Come on, Stella. Please tell me that you’re not that dumb.”

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood as I inhaled, sat, and pulled the sheet around my breasts. “Seriously, you’re calling me dumb?”

“You know I don’t think you’re dumb, but if you go back there . . .”

“This conversation went from fun to shit faster than I ever imagined.”

His chest expanded and contracted as his volume rose. “And the shit’s going to hit the fan if I learn you’ve gone back there. Your safety isn’t debatable.”

What had Bernard said about shit hitting the fan? He said that when the shit hit the fan, it wasn’t time to turn away. It meant the source of the manure was close and something was growing. Though it might stink, whatever it was, it was going to be big. He’d said that it was time to put on my shitkickers and plow through, to believe in myself . . .

Believe in myself.

I took a deep breath. “If this doesn’t pertain to Mindy, we can’t discuss it, remember?”

“A while back, you asked about DPD and HHPD working together. I’m not giving you particulars, but HHPD has been monitoring their residents. For the last . . . I don’t know how many years . . . they’ve been working on this big initiative. They’re watching populations, trying to get to know people and help. The thing is that women have been disappearing.”

My eyes opened wide. “Shit! Do they have statistics? What . . . ?”

“Stop it. Stop asking. Fuck! I shouldn’t.” He exhaled. “I’m not talking everyone, not women like Mindy, not professional, educated women. I’m talking about runaways, drug addicts, and prostitutes. Not all of them,” he added, and took a deep breath, and paced the width of his room. “You really can’t call it disappearing when it’s a runaway. It’s difficult because they’re a transient population.” He took another breath. “Some of them end up in the morgue, where you’ve been called. It’s the others—they evaporate into thin air. Of course, it doesn’t have to indicate foul play. One of the most viable theories is what’s happening”—he pointed—“out the window.”

I glanced at his bedroom window and into the darkness beyond the panes of glass. Now that we were officially in autumn, the early part of October, the days were getting shorter. It would get worse when the time changed. With standard time we’d fall back an hour. “I’m not seeing anything,” I said, “except for your reflection, if you stand there.”

He sighed. “It’s Michigan. The leaves are changing and it’s getting cold. You’ve lived around here long enough to know that winters can be brutal.”

“Yes?”

“If you were homeless or a runaway, would you want to live here through the winter?”

“Hmm,” I acknowledged, “I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Say that HHPD was in contact with a few of these women or even one of them, and the next time they stop to check on her, she’s missing. Who’s to say she didn’t hitch a ride to a better climate?”

I nodded. “Why are you telling me this? I thought this was out of our range of sharing.”

“Because I’m a cop—hell, I’m a detective—and Highland Heights scares the shit out of me. There’s no reason for you to be there. Yes, it’s high crime and there are bodies showing up . . .”

“Bodies? More? Have there been new ones?”

Dylan knelt on the bed and crawled toward me, his movements graceful and defined. Though I wasn’t sure I’d ever tire of watching him without a shirt—all the working out, the CrossFit or whatever he and his police buddies did religiously, certainly yielded results—I suddenly had the sensation of being prey. Even so, I fought the urge to reach out and touch the definition in his bicep. Before he had the chance to say anything, I leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I get it. You’re protective. I like it. I also have a job to do, not to mention a promise to keep.” I was losing my battle of wills as his kisses returned me to the horizontal position. “Dylan, you didn’t answer me.”

“Shhh.” He fanned my hair over the pillow and touched my lips. “I’ve said more than I should. Stop asking questions. I love your inquisitive nature, but it makes me nervous. Some people aren’t as forgiving.”

Though Dylan’s actions were monopolizing my thoughts, my gut told me that there was something more in Highland Heights. I wasn’t sure I could ever stop asking questions. And what people? Did Dylan know what was happening? And was that why he was trying to protect me?

It was then that I remembered Foster’s call. “Dylan?”

He laughed. “See, you can’t follow instructions worth shit.”

I shrugged. “Fine, I won’t ask you what I wanted to ask.” I kissed his cheek. “By the way, it had nothing to do with Highland Heights, Mindy, or bodies. It’s actually kind of funny, but never mind.”

“Oh, no, now I’m curious.”

I reached for the waistband of his shorts. Tugging at the elastic, with a grin I said, “I suppose it can wait.”

His chest inflated before he blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, I think something else just came up.”

Walking from Dylan’s bathroom, I made my way to his dresser and opened the top drawer. I couldn’t believe I’d caved and brought clothes over to his house. I hadn’t brought many, but even I admitted it was nice, better than showing up to work in the same clothes as the day before. Admittedly, with the food tablets, Fred was doing better on his own than he used to do. I’d put an old clock radio near his bowl, and twice a day, for two hours at a time, he had the pleasure of listening to music. I realized that a little music didn’t put me in the running for fish owner of the year, but the way I saw it, it was all about meeting his needs. He was a fish. He needed food and water, and a little interaction.

What was better than R&B?

Dressed for the day, I secured my hair in a low side braid that lay on my shoulder and made my way to the kitchen. Though I wanted to see the sexy guy with the jeans hanging low on his hips, it was the aroma of bacon that propelled me down the stairs.

Stopping in the doorway, I stared. Standing at the stove, still shirtless with his dark-blond hair all bedhead sexy, was Dylan. Not only was he handsomer than hell, he was making magic in a frying pan. Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and whispered, “Aren’t you afraid of bacon grease?”

He planted a kiss on my lips. “Don’t you remember who you’re talking to? I’m not afraid of anything.”

I was about to remind him of his lecture regarding Highland Heights, when I was distracted by a row of bacon strips neatly arranged on a paper towel near the stove. I picked up a crispy piece, put it in my mouth, and bit off the end. Ambrosia exploded in my mouth. “How do you do that? When I fry bacon it’s either black and sets off the fire alarm or is limp and gross.”

Dylan’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah, no one likes limp.”

I slapped his shoulder. “Hey, have you seen my phone?”

“Yes, it’s plugged in over there. It’s been ready to self-destruct for the last hour. Why do you think I keep inviting you to my house? I’d rather avoid the fire alarm.” He shrugged. “Though, I admit, it was nice to meet your neighbors when the firemen evacuated your floor.”

I contemplated slapping him again, but opted for shaking my head as I turned in the direction he’d pointed. “It wasn’t that bad,” I contended. “If you would’ve opened the window like I said, we could’ve avoided the entire fireman thing.”

“Sorry, I was busy putting out the flames.”

There had not been flames! But instead of correcting him, I swiped the screen of my phone to three text messages.

The first one was from Bernard. It simply had my name with a question mark. The second was from Tracy.

Tracy Howell: CHARLOTTE, ARE YOU FREE? CAN YOU MEET ME FOR LUNCH? TEXT ME, AND WE’LL SET A TIME.

I’d wondered what had happened to her. The last time we met, she’d told me she might have a new angle and when she knew more, she’d let me know. All that she’d said was that it might shed some light on a recurring injury. I hadn’t heard from her since.

Sitting at Dylan’s breakfast bar, I remembered what I’d wanted to ask him the night before; however, instead of jumping into real estate that I knew he couldn’t afford, I asked, “Do you need any help?”

“No, we don’t have time for fires.”

“Very funny. Fine. Have I told you about my parents?”

“A little,” he said with his attention more on the food. “Do you want an egg?”

“Sure.” I looked down at the third message.

Dina Rosemont: STELLA, IT’S DINA. WE’VE BEEN GETTING A FEW CALLS FROM OUR FLYERS. I’VE CONTACTED DPD, BUT IF YOU HAVE A MINUTE, CAN YOU CALL ME? I’D LIKE TO DISCUSS YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS WOMAN WHO’S CALLED TWICE.

“Stella?”

I looked up. “I’m sorry. What?”

“How do you want it?”

I moved my head back and forth. “Want what?”

He inhaled and exhaled. “Sex. Do you want it on the table or the floor? Maybe the counter?” He held up the spatula. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation last night, and I’m ready if you want to break my rules.”

“You’re hilarious.” My tone wasn’t amused.

“Your egg . . . scrambled, fried?”

“Oh, I don’t care. No matter how you make it, it’ll be better than the breakfast bar I usually eat.”

“What about your parents?” he asked. “I know they live in Chicago. You went to visit them a month or so ago.”

I had. After spending time with the Rosemonts, I’d wanted to hug my mom and dad. “Where are yours?” I asked.

He turned, his face suddenly solemn. “Umm. I’m sorry. I guess I planned on telling you this . . .”

I put my phone down and walked toward him. “What is it? I’m sorry. Is it bad?”

He shook his head as his shoulders moved up and down. “My parents died in a robbery gone bad. Same old adage: wrong place, wrong time. I was a senior in high school and they were on a business trip.” His glistening eyes drew me toward the blue. “That may be why I’m the way I am about you and Highland Heights. I don’t think I could take another . . .” He turned toward the sizzling pan on the stove.