Chapter 7 #2
Luke jumps up to dim the light switch, which brings the faces of six children and their demographics into sharper focus.
Two I recognize as Gweneth and McKenzie Travers, the sisters Luke believes have been kidnapped from Maple Canyon by cult members.
Two are a pair of boys I don’t recognize, and the other two are a brother-sister pair who escaped last fall.
The teenaged girl was pregnant and went into early labor while they were trying to flee to a great aunt in Driggs.
The motel clerk where they were staying called 9-1-1.
The kids were lucky Linden and William got there in time.
Zach continues, “So far, none of these kids have been willing to speak out against Sons of Eden, but…” He glances at me. “…last week a fourteen-year-old boy showed up at a local woman’s property. He didn’t use the word ‘escape,’ but I’m convinced that’s exactly what it was.”
“So he wasn’t a Lost Boy, like those other two?” Vera asks, nodding at the screen. “Left at a street corner in some town they’d never seen before?”
“No, this boy snuck out in the middle of the night almost a month ago...” Zach flips through his notebook pages. “…managed to survive on his own, which is a miracle considering the winter we’ve had.”
Luke shakes his head. “Any idea how he managed that? Finn River’s what, forty miles south of the Elk Flats compound? That’s quite the journey for a kid his age.”
“I’m almost positive he broke into a few cabins. He also knew how to hunt small game and forage.”
No kid should have to steal to survive. He’s been through such an ordeal. This makes me think of Keo’s commitment to helping him. That she cares for the boy too soothes something inside my heart. Something powerful, even though it makes little sense.
I think back to the framed pictures on her fireplace mantle. How does she feel about being separated from her children? If my kids weren’t in Finn River, I don’t think I could stand it.
“Any chance he’ll cooperate?” Annette asks, snapping me back to the conference room.
Zach and Everett lock eyes for an instant. “He’s only been in our care for a few days.”
“And he’s only fourteen,” Everett adds in a firm tone.
“If only we could get some of the women to come forward,” I say, tapping my pen against the open file folder.
Luke grunts in frustration. “Most don’t know they’re being manipulated or abused. It’s all part of how the cult is structured. And their obedience is interwoven with the belonging these people crave. When the young women become mothers, it gets even more complicated.”
Rex steeples his fingers together, resting them against his chin.
“I think we can all agree that turning the women into whistleblowers is a longshot, and that pressuring the kids to speak out would only cause them more harm. Our best and safest bet is to continue building cases against them for other crimes.” He nods at me.
“Illegal logging.” He locks eyes with Vera.
“A traffic stop when they’re moving people around in trailers.
” He then looks at Everett and Zach. “Maybe even making people disappear.”
Everett taps the laptop touchpad. The image of a young woman with straight dark hair blinks to life on the screen. She’s not smiling but her blue eyes are warm. She’s dressed in pink scrubs with a silver cross pendant hanging from her neck.
“This is Samantha Bowen,” Everett says. “Age twenty-five. A Labor and Delivery nurse on a temporary post in Miller’s Ferry who went missing two years ago.
About three months into her assignment at Valley General, Samantha had picked up on a pattern.
Young mothers, some as young as fifteen, with no father, yet they all listed the same address. ”
“Fifteen?” I press a fist to my chest in disgust.
Everett nods. “Legal age of marriage in Idaho is eighteen, but there’s no law against motherhood that young.”
“It’s still fucking wrong,” I grit out. “That address…let me guess. Sons of Eden?”
“Yep. The one in Miller’s Ferry.” Everett returns his attention to the image on the screen. “We think that’s what Samantha was trying to report. She apparently told her supervisor, but in Miller’s Ferry…thanks to Wakefield, there are plenty of people who are willing to look the other way.”
I blink at the screen as the implications of what he’s saying sinks in. “And not long after, Samantha went missing?”
Zach nods. “The investigation came up empty. Wakefield either scared her off and she’s left the area, or he paid her to leave town.” He glances at the screen. “Or it’s possible Wakefield had her killed.”
A thick silence settles in the room.
“If she was willing to talk, maybe we could find others,” I say to break it. “Nurses, doctors, teachers. Especially in Elk Flats. It’s a very small community. There have to be some people who are unhappy about a cult moving in.”
“That’s a good point,” Everett muses. “Though it won’t be a teacher. All the kids are homeschooled. As for the community—” He taps the touchpad on the laptop again, and two new faces flash onto the screen.
One is Jerome Wakefield, a forty-something male with a round, fleshy face punctuated by small dark eyes and full lips. The second one is Clearwater County Sheriff Harlan Thomas. He’s young for a sheriff but he didn’t land the role honestly.
“Jerome Wakefield and his father Otis now own three of the town’s businesses,” Everett says, “and they’re creating jobs thanks to that road construction company they’re expanding. Plus they’ve got Sheriff Thomas in their pocket.”
Zach adds, “Elk Flats has only a small medical clinic, but there hasn’t been some huge spike in births since Sons of Eden moved into town.
We believe the women are now giving birth at home.
I think that’s one of the reasons they created this new compound.
To keep everyone in and the rest of the world out. ”
“So, in other words,” I say, “finding another nurse willing to speak out won’t be an option.”
“How about recruiting an informant?” Everett asks.
Annette gets up to add hot water to her tea. “If Officer Whittaker can get a few of them for poaching or conservation crimes, we could try getting one of them to flip.”
I’m working on it, I want to say, but it’s feeble at best, so I just nod. We need results.
Luke leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Once we have a feel for who comes and goes, maybe there’s a way to get someone inside. A delivery driver maybe.”
“What about food stamp fraud?” Zach asks, glancing up from his notebook. “Many of the families collect stamp benefits, but based on what we know, those benefits don’t reach the families that need them.”
“What?” My mouth drops open.
Rex nods at Zach, his eyes dark. “Food stamp fraud isn’t a new idea.
Especially in a tiered society like Sons of Eden.
The leaders keep their minions in poverty, get them to apply for assistance, then use those funds to pad their pockets or…
” He nods at the two men on the board, neither of whom look like they’re hurting for calories. “Fund their projects and activities.”
“What do we need to build a case like that?” I ask.
Annette settles back in her seat. “I have a couple of contacts at the USDA Inspector General’s office.
They could run an audit. The IRS should also be brought in too.
Our team can initiate. Meanwhile can you find out where the benefit cards are being used?
Like is it a local grocery or convenience store, maybe one owned by someone in the cult?
That would make it easy for the leaders to steal the benefits.
The cards get swiped at the store, but instead of the family member in need getting food and provisions, the funds are illegally diverted to the cult’s leaders. ”
“That’s just evil,” Vera says, shaking her head. “I mean, they don’t just abuse their members, but they go out of their way to manipulate them like this, to steal from the mouths of hungry children.”
“Both Otis and his son are malignant narcissists,” Luke says.
“Sociopaths who simply do not care about the pain they inflict, the damage they cause, and the lives they derail in order to feed their mighty ego’s desires.
They are insatiable in their neediness and no amount of devotion and sacrifice will ever be enough. ”
“And the followers don’t see it?” I glance up at Jerome Wakefield’s dark, soulless eyes.
Luke follows my gaze. “These leaders are incredibly charismatic, and they’re also very proficient actors.
At first, they make followers feel seen and heard in a way that converts them into fanatical believers.
But leaders like this will begin to exert coercive control over them immediately, all while the abuse slowly ramps up.
People who become trapped in these kinds of cults often feel they are failing, and they need to work harder and sacrifice more of themselves each day. ”
“So they give up everything, and submit to whatever the cult leaders demand,” I say in disgust. “They’re like parasites.”
Luke gives me a grim nod. “Add in that the leaders project themselves as prophets and it gets even stickier. Followers believe they’re doing good work, that their life has purpose, even as they suffer.”
I remember Colton’s palpable defiance even as he devoured those sandwiches Keo made him. What made him finally realize he was in danger? Or maybe he knew it from a younger age, but he needed to get strong and independent enough to plan his escape.
As if I didn’t need another reason to bring down this cult. The quicker we can accomplish our goal, the sooner more kids like Colton can be free.
When I pull into the IDFW field office’s parking area, the only other car here is a dark sedan with government plates and a blue Dodge with a trailer hitch and several bales of hay secured with bright orange twine.
Outside, the wind’s icy bite stings my cheeks and nose. Despite the low clouds, even the muted light reflecting off the snow is bright enough to make my eyes burn. I tuck on my Stetson and zip my coat to my chin while hurrying inside.
The entryway is dim, with a metal grate floor for scraping off snow, but my boots are clean, so I continue past the reception area where Betsy, our receptionist, looks up from her computer, her eyes wary as I pass.
I’m still trying to figure out what has her spooked when I catch the end of the argument going on inside my boss’s office.
“…won’t get another second chance. Understood?” Scott says in a harsh tone.
The fuck?
Scott is standing behind his desk in his spotless uniform, his manicured fingertips braced on the tidy surface and his eyes locked on the man sitting across from him.
All I can see from the back is a mop of unruly hair and his broad shoulders and the way he’s splayed in the chair, like he wants to take up as much space as possible.
I already don’t like him and we haven’t even started working together.
“Whittaker!” Scott says, blinking at me in surprise.
The guy in the chair rocks to his feet, fixing his gray eyes on me, his scruffy face brightening with a smile I instantly distrust. His long strides eat up the space between us, and he offers his hand. “So great to meet you, Rowdy, sir. I’m CJ Parks.”
We shake. The kid’s got a firm grip, and his palm is thick with calluses. That should reassure me, but the dark look on Scott’s face and the implications of what I think I heard him say makes that impossible.
“Likewise,” I say, though it’s not exactly the truth. Is this kid some kind of loose cannon? I was prepared to be annoyed, but what if it’s worse than that?
CJ puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. I bristle, but either he’s oblivious, or he’s ignoring my very clear back off vibe. “I’m ready to get started whenever you are, sir.”
CJ saunters out of the office, leaving me alone with Scott.
“Something you want to share?” I ask my boss, crossing my arms while out in the reception area, CJ and Betsy start chatting. She giggles, and I breathe slowly through my nose.
But Scott is already settling back in behind his desk, his eyes on his computer screen. “Nothing you can’t handle, Whittaker. Close the door on your way out.”