Into the Light (25 page)

I rubbed his back, not knowing what to say.

After he’d flipped the egg, he turned back and kissed my cheek. “You’re trying to distract me from my cooking, aren’t you? You’re secretly into firemen more than cops and didn’t know how to break it to me.”

I stepped behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and put my cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just blurted that out. Do you have other family?”

“No siblings, I had grandparents. My mom’s parents stepped in after . . . well, since I was already eighteen, it was more of a formality. They’re both gone now: grandfather by cancer and grandmother, six months later, by a broken heart. See, there’s nothing good in that story. I guess that’s why I haven’t said anything.”

I feigned a smile. “So no rich uncle?”

He spun toward me. “Why would you even say that?”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I just . . . in a couple of months it’ll be our first Christmas together”—I shrugged—“unless you get rid of me before then because of my cooking.”

He reached for a plate and plopped a fried egg in the center. “No need for two cooks in the kitchen. I’ve been doing this as long as I remember. Cooking was something I enjoyed doing with my mom, and after . . . it reminded me of her.”

I swallowed my sorrow. “With everything . . . I guess more because of Mindy . . . I want to spend time with my parents at Christmas. I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with me to Chicago.”

He walked our plates to the breakfast bar. “I usually work the holidays. That way the people who actually have families can have the time off. Besides, I look forward to that check: it’s overtime—time and a half plus holiday pay.”

“You’ve been with DPD long enough, you can get the time off, can’t you? Please see if you can get it off. My folks will love you. My mom talks way too much, especially after a few glasses of wine, and my dad is great, a little quiet until you get to know him. We just can’t tell him you’re a Tigers fan. He’s really into baseball, and the Cubs have always been his team.” I tried lightening the mood. “However, I’m warning you right now, watch out for my little sister. She’s recently gone through a divorce.” I tightened my smile and moved my shoulders. “And I’ll be honest: I don’t think there’s a male who’s safe within fifty feet of her, but don’t worry, I promise to run interference.”

Dylan winked as he took a bite of his toast. “Wait, before you run interference, let me know, can she cook?”

“Yep, I taught her everything she knows.”

“Hmm, so her ex was the one who filed, right?”

I shook my head. It was good to see his smile. My phone buzzed and I swiped the screen. Exhaling, I said, “That’s number two from His Majesty, Bernard.”

“Even a royal summons can’t keep you from your breakfast.”

Carefully I stacked the egg and bacon on one half of the toast and put the other half on top. “Look. I’ve got this! I’m an eat-on-the-run expert.” Kissing his cheek, I said, “Please think about asking for the time off.”

He slipped his fingers in the belt loops of my slacks and pulled me close. “Promise me, no Highland Heights.”

All I could see was blue, the same eyes that only minutes ago had been sad. “I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t forget,” he said with another sexy wink, “I have my spatula, and I’m willing to use it.”

“Maybe you could use one from my kitchen. It’s less likely to be in the dishwasher.”

He grinned as I picked up my egg-and-bacon sandwich and grabbed a napkin. On my way to WCJB, I planned to call Bernard. However, sitting in my car, instead of thinking about my boss, my thoughts went to Dylan. Maybe it was time to take the next step. I was ready to let Fred visit.

As I drove I decided that Foster obviously had the wrong Dylan Richards. The one I’d just left had no rich uncle, had no family to speak of, and was willing to work Christmas for the extra money. It didn’t take an investigative journalist to know he couldn’t afford a $1.4 million home in a rich neighborhood.

After finishing my breakfast sandwich, I checked the clock. Since Dina Rosemont lived near San Francisco and it was three hours earlier there, her call would need to wait. As I waited to access the interstate in a slow-moving line of traffic, I pecked a text message to Tracy.

Stella: LUNCH SOUNDS GREAT UNLESS I’M CALLED AWAY. TELL ME WHEN AND WHERE.

And then one to Bernard.

Stella: I’M ON MY WAY, ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES OUT.

My phone immediately buzzed.

Bernard: MEET ME AT THE COFFEE SHOP. USUAL TABLE.

Shit!

My stomach twisted. No doubt he was pissed about my lack of progress. My continual dead ends were beginning to wear on me, and I was a hell of a lot more patient than he. I’d gotten my job based on results. In the last seven weeks I’d produced exactly nothing. I knew Bernard had faith in me, but faith wouldn’t keep me employed.

My lack of progress sure wasn’t for lack of trying. Since the afternoon I’d run near The Light, I’d spent most of my free time doing research, and not only at work. I’d spent hours alone in my apartment surfing the Net. After continually coming up empty on The Light, three nights ago I’d found something. It wasn’t about The Light, but it was interesting.

I was on one of those searches where I clicked site after site, following bread crumbs that kept me moving forward yet never seeming to reach a destination. I was about to call it a night when I poured one last glass of wine and stumbled across a blog post with an interesting thread of comments.

The original post was dated from over five years earlier, and buried deep in the Internet. It was written by a woman who claimed her daughter and son-in-law had been kidnapped by a cult. Though they’d disappeared, with the help of an investigator she’d located them. Once she did, she’d contacted the local police. Her daughter refused to speak to her, or anyone, but her son-in-law had sent a message saying that they were happy and willingly living within the community. Without probable cause, the local police refused to do any more. The woman took her concerns to the federal level, but without proof of wrongdoing, the authorities’ hands were tied. Her post asked for help understanding cults and asked why a young woman who had always had a good relationship with her family would suddenly turn her back on them.

Maybe it was the wine, but the post made me sad, and, of course, reminded me of Mindy. Though this woman’s situation was difficult, at least she knew her daughter was alive. The Rosemonts didn’t have that luxury. The last sentence warned people to recognize that even in this day and age, cults still existed.

Hours passed, and I found myself enthralled by the comment thread. The ones immediately following HeartbrokenMother372’s post were sympathetic to her plight. I continued reading, hoping that I’d learn if she’d ever gotten her daughter back. Unfortunately, I never saw anything else from HeartbrokenMother372, but the more I read, the more I wanted to know. With each comment I found myself questioning my belief and understanding of cults. There were more than a few posts that discounted their existence given modern technology, especially within the United States, stating the difficulty of being truly isolated in this day and age. I wondered if these people had ever heard of Waco.

With my bottle of wine about gone, I continued to read. Though none of the information I gleaned was referenced, I knew from experience that obscure sources often shed the most light. One man posted about his personal experience with living near what people in his community considered a cult. He called them a sect. He didn’t give the location of his town, city, or state, but he mentioned something about skiing. He also said that in all the years he’d lived there, he’d never seen any of the women or children who lived in the sect and had seen only a few of the men. Nevertheless he estimated that hundreds of people lived in the encampment. He claimed that the general consensus was that as long as the people in the sect didn’t bother the townspeople, the townspeople wouldn’t bother them.

As I scrolled I found posts referencing a group of people with whom I was familiar. After all, I’d lived in Michigan for many years and recognized the term
Amish
. It wasn’t uncommon in a rural area, especially south and east of where I lived now, down into Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, to drive over a hill and meet up with a horse and buggy. To me the Amish were always good, moral people who simply shunned technology. Though I couldn’t imagine not driving a car or having my cell phone with me at all times, I accepted them for who they were and had never considered them a cult, but the comments made me think.

The definition I’d seen earlier had said that a cult was a system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object. I was relatively certain the Amish believed similarly to most Judeo-Christian groups.

Could that mean that cults didn’t need to have nonconventional beliefs? Could they truly exist in the open, where most outsiders turned a blind eye?

The comment that I hadn’t been able to shake was from a woman who claimed that for over a year she had been an unwilling member of a cult. The date on her post was from only one year earlier, and her online name was MistiLace92.

Everything else I’d read thus far had been from outsiders looking in. Even the original post was from a mother whose daughter had willingly gone to live with a group. This was different and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I read the comment.

I don’t know what to do. I’m scared and need help. I just found this thread. I’m hoping someone will see this and know what to do. No one believes me, but I swear it’s true.

I lost over a year of my life to a cult. I’m afraid if I name them, they’ll hurt me. I just want people to know that this is real and it can happen to anyone.

During the year I was held captive, I watched people come willingly into this community. I wasn’t one of them, though I thought I was. Let me explain. One day I woke up and I was someone else, someone everyone knew, a follower of this group and of a man. I couldn’t remember anything prior to my waking. For some reason my mind played tricks on me. I was obviously the one with the issues. Everyone else knew me.

They told me I was married. I had no proof otherwise. My husband was abusive, yet I had no option but to be obedient. His behavior was accepted by everyone around me. It was the way the entire community lived. We all had jobs and requirements. I still don’t know exactly what I did; I helped to package things. I worked on an assembly line, and all I saw were plain boxes going into bigger plain boxes. Ten hours a day I did that. I wasn’t alone; everyone did something. The thing that’s hard to explain was that we all did it willingly. We weren’t paid, but we had food and shelter and friends. I accepted my life, until one day, when I was instructed to tell a new follower that she wasn’t new, that she belonged with us that I began to see. My husband told me it was our leader’s will and an honor to do his work. That was when my questions came back.

I wasn’t the woman they said I was. They’d done the same thing to me.

I know that if they find me, they’ll kill me. I just know it. Leaving wasn’t an option. There were select chosen members who decided the fate of others. I didn’t know them well, but if they considered me a threat, I’m sure I’d be eliminated—banished.

As soon as I got away, I told the police my story. They said I was crazy.

Before I disappeared, I had a drug problem. The police said that what I described was impossible. They said I’d hallucinated, and if I pursued my claims, they’d have me institutionalized.

Help! I want to tell my story. Someone please help me.

I wanted to comment, in hopes MistiLace92 would respond. Unfortunately, the comment thread had been closed.

As soon as I got to WCJB the next day, I contacted a friend with an affinity for everything computers. It took him all of fifteen minutes to track down the IP address for MistiLace92’s post. It originated from a public library in Columbia Falls, Montana. I called the Columbia Falls Police Department. It transferred me to three different people. Finally I was informed that there weren’t records of a Misti or anyone else filing a report with such claims. I sent the comment and IP information to their e-mail address; minutes later I received a response claiming the IP address was incorrect. My friend swore it wasn’t.

I asked if there could possibly be a cult nearby. They told me no. A search for Misti Lace came up empty for that area; however, I found a Misti Lacey on the national registry of missing persons. Unfortunately, Misti Lacey’s only living relative, her mother, was now deceased. I’d hit another dead end.

I wasn’t sure if my interest in MistiLace92 was connected to my interest in Mindy, but whatever the reason, for the previous few nights, her story had haunted my dreams.

As I drove toward the coffee shop I still wondered: if MistiLace92 was really Misti Lacey, why was she still on the registry of missing persons? Her post had been made over a year ago.

Shouldn’t she be found?

CHAPTER 25

Sara

As I lay on my side, wrapped in Jacob’s embrace with his bare chest against my back, the skin-to-skin contact seemed right, yet I couldn’t shake the unfamiliarity of his stare. With our legs slightly bent, I caressed his arms and wondered about the blue eyes from my dreams. Maybe that was all they had been, a dream. I sighed and nuzzled my cheek against the pillow.

“You’ve been quiet since we came back from the community. Do you have something you want to say?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

Closing my eyes, in the dark of the bedroom, forced the tear teetering on my lid to fall to the pillow below. Shaking my head, I said, “No, Jacob. I’m not sure of anything.”

We’d just made love and I was crying, not exactly what a husband wanted from his wife. There hadn’t been anything wrong with the sex—it was fine, just different from the previous night.

Now that I could see, everything was different.

Jacob pulled me closer, and his breath skirted across my hair. “Whether you remember it, or you’ve recently relearned it, tell me what Father Gabriel says about a wife’s thoughts.”

I exhaled. “Just like everything else, they belong to you, but,” I added, “I’m not keeping anything from you. I really don’t know how to say what I’m thinking. Honestly, I’m not even sure what I’m thinking.” As more tears silently fell to the pillow, I tried to still my shudders, not wanting Jacob to know I was crying. When he didn’t respond, I swallowed and went on. “I wanted to remember your face. Why can’t I remember? Will I ever have a past?”

He kissed the top of my head. “We all have a past. This morning was your past, so was the day before and the one before that. If further back never comes, a year from now, this will be our past.”

A closed-lip smile came as I nodded.

“A past is as long or as short as we want to make it. When we came here to follow Father Gabriel, we chose to leave our lives in the dark behind.”

When his hold loosened, I rolled toward him. “I don’t want to go back to the dark. I just want to know, to have the memories. Is it wrong to want that?”

“To want it?” he repeated. “No. To question the reason it was taken from you, yes.”

I sighed. “That means that I can’t ask about it.”

Jacob leaned over me, his chest flattening my breasts. With our proximity in the darkened room, I could only make out his form, his shoulders, arms, and the silhouette of his hair against some distant faint light. There were no details. Hearing his familiar voice, without seeing his unfamiliar eyes, eased my anxiety. He smoothed the hair away from my face and kissed my nose. “We both follow Father Gabriel. You aren’t the only one who must obey the rules. I can’t question why you lost those memories any more than you can question me. All I can do is hold tight to the memories I have of us, for both of us. Even though you don’t remember my face, I remember yours.” He traced under my eyes, wiping away the remnants of tears. “I remember your beautiful blue eyes, the way they open with amazement at new discoveries and the way they flutter as you come apart beneath me.” He was back to stroking my hair. “I remember the first time we made love and every time since.

“I remember the first time I saw you, the first time I heard your voice, and”—he brushed his lips against mine—“the first time I kissed you.” He scoffed, “It wasn’t supposed to happen, but I couldn’t resist. I knew you were mine from the first time I saw you, even if you didn’t.”

His memories gave me a sliver of my past. “I didn’t?”

“No, not then. You were dating someone else.”

“What? That was before we were here, right?”

“Yes, it was before everything.”

He sighed and laid his head back on his pillow. I was afraid he’d stop talking, yet more scared to ask him to continue. Thankfully, he didn’t stop, but when he resumed speaking, his voice had a faraway tone, as if he was seeing it all again.

“You were laughing, and I thought you were one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen. You have a great laugh.” He reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers. “I know this crash course in remembering how to be an Assemblyman’s wife hasn’t given you many opportunities for laughter. That’s why I want your memories to come back. Sometimes it seems like we’re back at the beginning. I want to be beyond that . . .” He was back up with his elbow beside me and his head on his hand. Looking down at me, he continued, “To where you laugh instead of cry.”

“I’m sorry.”

He touched my lips. “To where you’re not constantly apologizing.”

I kissed his finger. “I’d like that too, but you have to admit, this hasn’t been easy. I mean my eyes, leg, and ribs. I’ve just gotten my sight back. We’ve been banished, and my hair is gone.”

“I do.” He exhaled. “I admit that it’s been a rough few weeks, but we can see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“The Light?” I asked with a smirk.

“Yes. See? It’s something everyone wants.”

“I do see that, and I understand that we’re here, on the biggest campus, as part of the chosen.” I ran my palm over his handsome cheek. “And at one time, I chose to be here with you. Though I don’t remember that, I wanted it, and I still do. I want The Light.” I shook my head. “I’m sure that as we go forward there’ll be times when I mess up and you’ll correct me, but when I do, I’m asking you to understand that it’s not intentional. Today, driving off the campus made me sad. I want to go back. This pole barn and the hangar might not be the dark, but for the life of me, I don’t think I was driving away in your truck. I can’t imagine wanting to leave you or Father Gabriel. I mean, first off, you said we’re on the edge of the circumpolar north. Second, Father Gabriel travels by plane.” My volume rose. “Third, there are polar bears. None of that makes it even seem possible to drive away, and if it were, it wouldn’t be something I’d be willing to do alone.”

“Once our banishment is over and Father Gabriel reintroduces us to followers, the accident is over. Just like any other correction, it’s gone, as if it never happened.”

“Reintroduces us? Do you mean like in front of everyone?”

“Yes.”

I groaned and buried my head in his hard chest.

“Don’t make me tell you again about your hair and how proud I am to have you at my side.” His tone was somewhere between tender and stern.

“I think maybe I could wear a scarf.”

“Around your neck to stay warm.”

“A hat,” I tried.

“Sara.”

Yes, I was pushing this too far. “Fine, whatever you say. Jacob?”

“Do not suggest another head covering.”

I shook my head. “I’m not. I wanted to thank you for arranging to have Raquel here today and Sister Ruth tomorrow.”

“I’m confident that Brother Timothy and Sister Lilith won’t try anything else, but Brother Daniel suggested that Sister Ruth come out, and I thought it would make you more comfortable.”

“Why are you confident they won’t do anything else?”

“Sara.” His tone wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry.”
Shit! Now I’m apologizing.
“I know you said Brother Daniel is our overseer, but he’s on the Commission. I’m afraid that all the Commissioners are like Brother Timothy.”

“They’re not.” He lay back and pulled me to his shoulder. As I cuddled close with the knee in the cast on his thigh, I listened as he talked about Brother Daniel and Sister Ruth. Apparently when we first arrived I hadn’t been as good a cook as I was now—
I didn’t know I was
—and Sister Ruth had spent a lot of time with me, teaching me. “It’s pretty obvious she’s a great cook,” he added.

I laughed. “I knew it. From the way she hugged me at the hospital, I knew she was a bigger woman.”

“Did you hear that?”

I lifted my head; all I’d heard was his voice reverberating from his chest with the steady beat of his heart. “No, I didn’t hear anything.”

“I did,” he said, lifting me and pulling my cast across him. “It was your laugh.”

“Jacob?”

“I believe you mentioned something—an alternative—at the clinic.”

Oh, wow!

I laughed again. Holding on to his chest, I moved my knees to either side of his torso. With my breasts hanging above him, he leaned forward and captured a suddenly hardened nipple between his lips. As he sucked, noises came from my throat and my insides came back to life.

Gazing up at me, he brushed my cheek. “Sara, I’d like this to bring back your memories, but if all I get out of it is that magical laugh, I’ll take it.”

Placing my hands on his shoulders, I rose to my knees, and asked, “Is that all you’re getting out of this?”

With my hips trapped in his strong grip, he grinned and replied, “No, I’m getting more; I also want those sexy moans of yours.” A mere shift of his arms and I was up and then down.

“Oh, God,” I whimpered as we came together for the second time in one night. I’d definitely be tender tomorrow; however, as his rippled torso flexed under my palms and his neck craned with pleasure, tomorrow wasn’t one of my concerns.

Though I was on top, I held no illusion of control. Jacob’s large hands choreographed, directing my speed and position. I was merely along for the ride, but oh, what a ride. He knew exactly how to manipulate, taking me to the brink and backing away. On and on I rode until finally my world imploded. My body, no longer mine, fell slack against his. When our foreheads came together he pulled my hips toward his, animalistic need radiating so strongly through his grasp that I wondered if I’d have marks in the morning. Before I could give it a second thought, a deep guttural growl came from his chest and his lips curled to a smile just before they captured mine. Compared to the desire he’d just shown, his kiss was tender. He released my hips and hugged my shoulders.

Once our breathing settled, still lying on top of him, I asked, “May I ask you something?”

“You may ask . . .”

“But you may not answer,” I quipped, mocking his usual response. My behind stung with the swat of his hand.

“You’re too smart for your own good. Ask before I use more than my hand.”

“I guess it isn’t really a question. It’s just that I wanted to say I loved hearing your memories, like our first kiss, the first time we saw one another, and the first time we . . . did this. Thank you for sharing.”

“Thank you for making those memories with me.”

I couldn’t have been more wrong, thinking Brother Daniel would be like Brother Timothy. The moment Jacob met him and Sister Ruth at the door, I knew they were different. Even when Brother Timothy had come to my room right after I woke, I’d sensed Jacob’s unease. With our overseer my husband was as comfortable as he was when the two of us were alone.

After greeting Jacob, Sister Ruth came straight to me, framed my face with her cool, pudgy hands, and looked me right in the eye. The faint scent of vanilla surrounded her. “Sara, I want you to know that I’ve prayed every day for your sight. Thank Father Gabriel that you’ve been healed.” Her smile stretched her cheeks. “And, my dear, Sister Raquel has done quite the job: you’re absolutely lovely. I know Brother Jacob knows how blessed he is.” She winked. “But I’m going to remind him, just for good measure.” She whispered the last part as she surrounded me in her hug.

I looked to Brother Daniel, a tall, older man with graying hair, and said, “Thank you, Brother and Sister, for coming out. Jacob shared that it was your idea. Thank you for helping me feel better.”

“Sister,” Brother Daniel said in a deep, commanding voice, “on behalf of the Commission and Father Gabriel, while it will take a while for your hair to grow, once your banishment is complete, the incident will be behind both of you.” He reached for my hand. “That is what Father Gabriel teaches. Never doubt his word.”

My head moved from side to side. “I never would, Brother. I willingly accept his decree, and I’m anxious to return to the community.”

He smiled from me to Jacob. “Sister, that’s good to hear.” Looking to Jacob, he said, “Call once you land. I’ll come back and get Ruth.”

“I will, Brother. The plane is ready. I should be able to leave soon.”

Brother Daniel clapped Jacob’s shoulder and turned to Sister Ruth. I had no doubt they had the same type of relationship that I shared with Jacob, yet I wondered how long they’d been married, because the adoration in both of their gazes was tangible. “Ruth, remember, if necessary, you have my permission to use the phone.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” She squeezed my hand. “We’ll be so busy, nothing will bother us.”

I liked her confidence, and wondered what she had planned.

“Brother Jacob,” she said, “we had to park outside. In the back of Daniel’s SUV are some bags. If you’d be so kind as to bring those in for us, I believe your lovely wife will have a dinner fit for a king when you return.”

The way his eyes grew at that possibility made me smile.

“I’d be happy to get whatever you need to make that happen.”

It was true that so far we’d eaten only already prepared meals. With my lack of sight, my
great cooking skills
had been limited to warming things and to preparing cereal, toast, coffee, and sandwiches. This morning I’d ventured to eggs and bacon.