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“They should’ve made everyone nervous.” He offered the file for her perusal.
Careful not to brush his hand, she accepted it but merely placed it in front of her, because he was still talking.
“At first his parents saw only what they wanted to see and hoped his interest was professional, as he’d claimed. He didn’t read them what he wrote to Manson. He kept that private, so the bits and pieces they heard of Manson’s letters made it sound as if Manson was the only crazy one.”
“So how did we get copies of the letters?”
“You know how closely prison mail is monitored. Once his father finally became uneasy, he paid a correctional officer to keep an eye on the budding relationship. It was that guy who made copies. But he worked certain days and shifts, of course, and the letters that came and went on someone else’s watch were lost.”
“Why didn’t dear old dad put a stop to the letters once he saw what they contained?”
“His wife insisted it was just a ‘phase’ Ethan was going through, that he was purposely trying to provoke Manson, the same way he tried to provoke everyone else. And then the problem seemed to solve itself. Ethan grew disenchanted with Manson, quit writing him and the relationship ended.”
“But that was a pretty ominous start, and it led to a bigger problem.”
“Exactly. Now Ethan’s set himself up as a prophet, the Holy One, the man to lead all Christians to enlightenment.”
“And let me guess—enlightenment happens after this life.”
“With your background, I knew you’d be familiar with the dogma.”
Far more than she wanted to be. She’d tried hard to distance herself from the brainwashing she’d undergone as a child, but it wasn’t easy to put all those hours of religious “instruction” behind her. Not when there were so many lasting effects, some of which she blamed for the embarrassing blunder she’d made with Nate six months ago.
“Sounds as if he’s as whacked as Manson,” she mused. Or, like her father, his teachings and devotions could be similar enough to mainstream religions to fall within what society deemed “normal.” Not that her father’s “normal” was normal to most people. From the moment she got home from school every day, Fredrick Jessop had kept her under lock and key, forced her to read the Bible for hours on end and go to church three or four times a week. Until she’d left home at seventeen, he’d had complete control. Even after she was on her own, she’d been so well trained she was twenty-five before she lost her virginity; at that point she’d finally slept with a man just to punish her father after an argument. That had turned out to be such a bad experience, so cheap and unsatisfying, she hadn’t had sex again until she met Nate. But, for different reasons, her encounter with Nate had been even more disappointing than the original one.
“He might be crazy,” Nate said. “But making up your own religion isn’t a crime. You know that better than most.”
Her father and his cronies had done it, hadn’t they? “So what law has Ethan broken?”
Nate’s broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “That’s the reason for this assignment—to find out.”
She’d already assumed as much. But she wasn’t comfortable with the religious element. Her background dealing with religious zealots had taught her there was no way to win, no way to argue any doctrine logically because people like her father always referred to the illogical to back up their beliefs.
“Do you think I have the experience for this?” she asked. Before coming to Department 6, she’d worked undercover for the LAPD, pretending to be a prostitute, as well as helping in some drug busts. Since hiring on at Department 6, she’d continued with drug enforcement, generally contract labor for the DEA. Bottom line, she’d specialized in something that was more straightforward, easier to fight. And she liked it that way.
“You have as much experience with this type of thing as anyone else at Department 6,” he said.
That was probably true. They all did more drug work than anything else. “There must be something besides his affiliation with Manson that’s brought this man to our attention,” she said. “I’m guessing there are a lot of whack jobs who’ve contacted Manson over the years.”
“A woman by the name of Martha Wilson recently escaped from the commune,” Nate explained.
Now they were talking. “Another interesting word choice, seeing that escaped has the connotation of being held against her will.”
“Her word,” he said. “She claimed Wycliff punished her for sleeping with her own husband.”
“I thought sex was dealt with in a more liberal fashion in this commune.”
“It is. But she was on ‘restriction.’”
Because it was beyond awkward to talk about sex with Nate after what had occurred between them, Rachel tried to cover her anxiety by toying with the edge of the file in front of her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Otherwise, sex is open to anyone, married or unmarried, as long as both people are consenting and of age.”
“Now I see why Ethan’s attracting converts. Religious endorsement of drugs and sex. No willpower required. What’s not to like?”
His lips quirked in a wry smile. “It’s not quite as simple as it might sound.”
“With religion, it never is,” she muttered.
“Only those who live according to various ‘higher laws’—” he made quotation marks with his fingers “—gain that benefit. But there’s a cost. Once you join, you begin a process that culminates in embracing certain rituals that go with these laws. We’re not sure what these rituals are. We got most of this information from what was reported in the papers. Martha was vocal about the group’s abuse, but less so about their beliefs.”
“And Milt can’t get more information?” Milton Berger owned the company. Slightly eccentric, he was basically a wealthy businessman who’d never spent a day in the field. At forty-five, he drank and smoked so much he couldn’t possibly run the forty-yard dash. But he had an eye for talent and a talent for making money.
“He’s relying on us to figure out the rest.”
“Do you know what the prize is?”
“The prize?” he repeated.
“What do the people in Ethan’s religion get for living these supposed higher laws? There’s always a prize for good behavior. It’s usually called salvation.”
“They’re admitted into ‘the Holy One’s’ inner sanctum and become sanctified like he is. Or something like that. Again, there might be more to it.”
Remembering what she’d been taught regarding the few elect who would rule with God, she made a face. “How do people fall for this crap?” She’d been steeped in it and still couldn’t buy it, although there’d been plenty of times she’d wished she could. It would’ve made her life so much easier.
“I think psychologists say they’re not happy with the world in which they’re living. Some want to prove how unique and special they are. Others are just hoping to feel as if they belong.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “But who really knows? Motivations are as individual as people.”
“Doesn’t sound to me like the world they’re building will be any better than the one we’ve got.” No matter how hard her father and brother had tried to convince her that the afterlife was all that mattered. “How badly did Ethan Wycliff beat the woman who escaped?”
“She says it wasn’t him. It was a public event—a stoning modeled after those in the Bible.”
She stiffened. “Stoning is a death sentence in the Bible.”
“Martha managed to escape.”
“How?”
“We don’t know exactly. But according to her, Ethan’s getting crazier by the day. She says everyone in the church will wind up dead if someone doesn’t do something soon.”
Rachel glanced at the photograph again. This time, Ethan’s black eyes appeared far colder than they’d seemed before. “Looks like my job’s about to get interesting. Again.” Interesting and potentially dangerous. The dangerous part never changed. But she didn’t mind. It kept her fully occupied, kept her from having to acknowledge the fact that she had nothing in her life except the satisfaction of doing a job most people couldn’t. “When do I leave?”
“We leave in the morning.”
She riveted her eyes on his face. They never worked the same case. He made sure of it. And they both knew the reason. So why the sudden change of heart? “You don’t think I can handle it on my own?”
“Milt’s decision, not mine.” His response divulged nothing of his own reaction. But she could easily guess how displeased he’d been when he heard the news. He probably feared she’d try to seduce him again. He’d made it very clear that he didn’t want that.
“What about Rod?” she asked, trying to control her voice so it wouldn’t reveal her panic. “He could go with me.” More than just a coworker, Roderick Guerrero was one of her best friends. She’d feel far more comfortable with him.
“Rod’s on another job. So are Jonah, Drake and Kellen.”
“Then maybe Angelina would be a better choice for—”
He shook his head. “She’s too new.”
And had no more business in this line of work than Rachel did. He didn’t have to say that; Rachel knew he didn’t approve of having females taking on the dangerous stuff. “Then I can handle it alone,” she argued. A homicidal maniac, drunk on his own power, would be easier to face than daily association with Nate. “It’ll be more difficult for two strangers to gain the trust we’ll need.”
“Milt wants us to go in as a couple.”
“What?” This went beyond going undercover together as…say, friends or acquaintances. What did it mean? Would she be sharing a room—a bed—with Nate?
She couldn’t do it. Not after the way she’d thrown herself at him six months ago. “How will we get them to accept us?”
“They hold meetings they call Introductions. I’m not sure where. But they’re open to the public. Once we find out where to go, you’ll attend one, feign interest and drag me to the next one. We’ll go from there.”
The plan already seemed set in stone, but surely there had to be a way out. “Where is this cult? Not here in Southern California…”
“No. Paradise, Arizona.”
Allowing his response to distract her, she frowned. “That’s the name of the compound?”
“That’s the name of the town they’ve taken over and has been since it was founded more than a century ago.”
“They bought a whole town?”
“Every parcel, and since no one else wanted it, they got it cheap.”
“They actually came across one named Paradise? Ironic, to say the least,” she said. Especially because it certainly wouldn’t be Paradise for her.
“Arizona and paradise are an oxymoron, at least this time of year.”
“So it’s as barren and hot and dry as the last place we worked?”
“Nevada? It’s just as barren. But it’s even hotter and dryer. I’d describe it as more of a white heat.”
“It’s that hot?”
“It’s that hot.”
He lowered his voice. “And there are a lot more snakes.”
The guys she worked with would never let her live down her fright at the pet boa constrictor Drake had put under her desk a few weeks ago. In a group of hard-asses, any weakness was to be exploited, if only for the sake of entertainment. But she got the impression Nate wasn’t needling her for fun. He didn’t like the idea of working together any more than she did. He wanted her to fight this assignment, to go outside the chain of command, if necessary, straight to Milt.
For a moment, she considered doing that. But she was relatively new and still trying to prove herself. She couldn’t risk getting fired, not with her mortgage. Besides, if there was any way to change Milt’s mind, Nate would’ve already tried it.
“I can put up with snakes,” she lied. “I just wasn’t expecting one to come slithering up my leg.”
“I’m not talking about pet snakes. I’m talking about rattlers.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
His jaw tightened. “This will be dangerous, Rachel.”
“Our job always is.” That was how she liked it. She didn’t have to worry about heaven and hell, her father’s disapproval or anything else—just surviving from one day to the next.
They stared at each other in a virtual standoff. She wasn’t sure what to do about this, but she wouldn’t let him manipulate her into causing trouble inside the company. That would only convince everyone that she was as whiny and hard to please as the guys were afraid a female would be. “I’m not quitting. Or getting myself fired,” she said.
He cursed under his breath, but she ignored it.
“So where are we going exactly? Paradise must be south of Flagstaff if—”
“It’s in the southeast corner of the state, not far from the Mexico and New Mexico borders. Used to be a ghost town. Until Wycliff decided to revive it, there weren’t more than a handful of people living in the area.”
“Are those people still around?” Or did they leave when the Covenanters moved in the way she wanted to flee at any mention of prophecy, scriptures or the end of the world?
“For the most part, he either converted them or bought them out.”
She wiped damp palms on her jeans. She was the only female operative at Department 6 with any field experience. That was why Milt had chosen her. They were just beginning to hire women. But who said this assignment required a woman or even a couple? Maybe Nate could go in alone. “Where’s Ethan getting the funds to buy land and build a town?” she asked, stalling.
“Like any cult leader, he requires converts to forfeit all their wealth for the greater good. And he makes everyone work. They sell cheese, for one thing. He also has other resources.”
“Like…”
“A trust fund.”
She sat up straighter. Now Ethan’s suit and polish made sense. Apparently, he hadn’t attended Cornell on student loans. “He comes from money?”
“You could say that. His father is Robert Wycliff.”
The name meant nothing to her. “It’s not as if you said Bill Gates. Who’s Robert Wycliff?”
“The owner of the eighth-largest engineering firm in the country. Gets big government contracts, makes the Forbes list every year.”
She whistled. “I see. So…who wants to know what little Ethan is up to? The government? Or Daddy?”
“If you heard your son was amassing weapons and explosives, and you knew he once had a relationship with Charles Manson, wouldn’t you be concerned enough to find out what’s going on? Mr. Wycliff doesn’t want anyone hurt. And he’d rather not see his only child in prison.”
“He has to have a security contractor? Wouldn’t a PI work just as well?”
“He tried that. Ethan’s group is isolated and very cliquish. The PI he hired couldn’t get close enough. And because of the potential danger, Wycliff senior wanted people who could defend themselves—and others—if necessary.”
She wondered if part of Robert’s concern stemmed from a desire to protect his family name. It would certainly be a consideration for her own father. He was forever asking her to make him proud. She’d just never been able to do it. “How’d he lose track of junior in the first place?”
“He said there’s always been something different about Ethan. Their relationship was strained almost from the beginning, but it’s gotten worse with time. They’ve been completely estranged for more than a decade. Ethan dropped out of college, wouldn’t work, never applied himself. Robert says he did what he could to turn his son into a productive individual. I get the impression he would’ve done more if Ethan’s mother hadn’t stood in his way. She insisted their son was fine, that he just needed to be himself and live his own life.”
“Classic denial,” she said, but she was intrigued in spite of herself. “So Robert backed off?”
“He immersed himself in his work and let her deal with Sonny, until Ethan started to preach in their neighborhood and town. They finally drew the line, so he left to take his followers to a place where they’d be ‘unmolested.’ Robert was confident he wouldn’t be able to make it work. He thought Ethan would eventually be forced to come home, hoped he’d quit with all the oddness and be the son they wanted him to be.”
