Chapter 18 Calder
Calder
I let out a sharp, fast whistle, catching Lara’s attention just before she reached the tent. Her head turned, eyes squinting through the trees, and I stepped out from behind the pine where I’d been waiting. As soon as she saw me, I saw the mess I’d made.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There were a dozen ways to end our meeting in an argument, but I’d chosen the path closest to the truth. Not for a logical reason. Or a rational one. Or a thoughtful one. But for an emotional one.
“I’ve seen how carelessly he can break a heart, and I don’t want that to happen to me.”
To hear the pain strangling her voice like a vine, to see the anger barbing her stare with thorns, and still to feel that surging, tidal pool of desire drowning us together . . . I couldn’t take it.
I knew she blamed me for what had happened with Rachel.
That I’d broken up with her. Hurt her irreparably.
Though she’d never confirmed it until now.
Still, I’d thought I was prepared to face her assumptions—her distorted version of the past—knowing it wasn’t wrong, exactly, but neither was it wholly right.
But I wasn’t prepared for the worst-case scenario: the way it made me feel.
“This way.” I charted a new path to the edge of the woods, never following the same path twice in case Matthew or Ben had an eye for broken branches and crushed leaves and the stories they told.
“Sorry about earlier,” I said gruffly, turning once we’d cleared the trees, bottling up those feelings nice and tight in my chest; they’d only make things worse.
“I didn’t want Maxwell to think we were making progress.
The sooner we start to break down in front of her, the sooner we’ll get answers. ”
That response—unlike the ones in the Sanctuary—was rehearsed. Practiced on repeat between each chastisement. I had to put out the sparks of truth before they turned into a wildfire I couldn’t control.
Lara’s wince was quickly concealed; when it came to putting on a mask of control, we were both equally matched.
“I might already have some,” Lara blurted out, the information popping from her throat like a shaken bottle of champagne. “I just ran into Sarah. She told me ‘EC’ is Eden’s Children. Sarah said Dr. Julia wants to refer her to the advanced program to work on herself and her self-esteem. Alone.”
My brows rose.
“She made it seem like the program was geared toward gaining . . . sexual confidence in various scenarios and with multiple partners.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting.
“She briefly mentioned some of the paperwork she’d have to sign and the costs involved, but she seemed more worried about . . . the other parts.”
“Did she say where it was?”
Lara shook her head. “She told me Dr. Julia wants her to go as soon as possible—tomorrow morning. And she said Ben would take her.”
Displeasure rumbled from my chest. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“That’s what I thought. I could see how someone like Sarah would be a good target for something like that and how she could be easily swayed.
” She paused here, a silent acknowledgment that Rachel would’ve been chosen and willing for similar reasons.
Except Lara thought that reason was me, and I still felt the war being fought in my bones on whether it was my place to correct her.
What good would it do? Arguing about a decade-plus-old relationship? Sharing things her sister clearly wanted to keep private even if it had been at my expense?
What would the truth change?
The word everything echoed from somewhere deep in my chest, and I strove to ignore it.
“So what do we do now?” Her arms folded over her chest and her head swung side to side; the hummingbird was back. “Should we leave? Or confront Dr. Julia? Ask where the Garden is—”
“Slow down, hummingbird,” I said without thinking. “Let me see what Callum can find out. We don’t know anything about Eden’s Children. If it’s legit. If it’s not. If we confront Maxwell and it spooks her, or her partner, I don’t want to risk it.”
Based on the limited information Lara had gleaned, I had a gut feeling about the kind of organization we were dealing with, but I didn’t want to throw the c-word out just yet; for Lara’s sake—and Rachel’s—I hoped I was wrong.
“You should head back,” I said, reaching for the heel of my boot and the cell phone hidden within. Lara stared, her silence heavy with protest. “You know they roam around the campsite to keep an eye on everyone and make sure we’re reflecting alone. If they can’t find either of us . . .”
Her lips pursed, but she finally clipped her chin in a nod.
“I’ll let you know what he finds.”
“Eden’s Children,” I said when my brother answered the phone.
“Hold on,” Callum grunted. There was some shuffling and then a loud bang. “I’m dealing with something for Calder. Can you leave?”
“What about borrowing one of your drones—”
“I’m not getting involved in your prank war with Creighton,” Callum interrupted our sister.
“But he spray-painted Donnie—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Or a duck.” That was as close to a joke as Callum would get—one that was barbed in cold antipathy.
“Fine. I’ll ask Colt.” If she could find him.
People were usually surprised to learn how solitary most of us were. They thought because we lived on a family compound, sequestered from society, that we must live close-knit, like the seven dwarves, whistling by the campfire every night while we roasted s’mores.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
Mom had been the glue in that nuclear-knit family, holding together all the strings Cassius taught us were safer to keep separate. Once she was gone, we all unraveled. Some of us farther than others.
The following silence was broken by the march of Callum’s hands over his keyboard and Twister’s trot, nails clipping against the floor, as he followed Colby to the door; our animal-whispering sister was his second-favorite person after Callum. A few seconds later, I heard his door slam shut.
“You’d think living in my own damn house would send the message that I want to be left alone,” he muttered. “I’m going to have to install a bigger lock.”
“A bigger lock is only going to encourage her to pick it.”
He cursed under his breath. “Then I’ll install whatever Creighton has on the attic. She hasn’t managed to get through that.”
No, she just trained her duck to fly through his window.
But I decided to forgo mentioning how much Donnie would probably enjoy the skylight in Callum’s house or chasing down his drones.
I’d called for a reason, and it wasn’t to give Callum advice on how to manage his relationships.
God knew, I was a pretty poor poster child for that right now.
“Anything come up?”
“How’d you learn the name?”
I flexed and released my fist. “Lara talked to one of the other women at the retreat who was invited to join.”
Callum’s silence wasn’t promising.
“What is it?”
“Not much on the corporation. Ownership is obscured, but it was registered with the state about three years ago. Hold on.” Another pause. “Well, Eden’s Children is run by one Adam Eden.”
“So that’s who Maxwell is working with.” The pieces were starting to come together.
“Calder . . .” I could hear his heavy exhale through the line. “The wilderness retreat was one thing, but this—Eden’s Children—is giving me cult vibes.”
Fuck. There was the c-word.
“What did you find?”
“The usual bare-bones markers. Plain website and stock photos advertising sexual confidence and well-being. No contact information. No address. Nothing but a few blog articles written by Maxwell, though she’s only referenced as Dr. Julia.”
In my experience with cults, which thankfully wasn’t too much, their online footprint was hardly even an outline. It was for show. A house of cards. Just like their foundational belief system. The only thing that was real was how they sought to take advantage of people.
“There’s an online form anyone who stumbles onto the website can fill out for more information, but I doubt it’s ever been used,” Callum continued.
“The website didn’t show up in my regular search, so they’re probably using a program to stop search bots from crawling the site and sorting it into a search feed. ”
“Not surprising,” I murmured. The few cases I’d taken involving a missing loved one who’d been recruited to join a cult had followed this same kind of online framework; they had enough of a presence to appear legitimate, but they didn’t want cold leads or law enforcement to be able to find them easily. “And Adam Eden?”
“His bio is sparse, just a big quote about his feminine-empowerment philosophy and why he created Eden’s Children.”
Most cults fell into one of two categories: those containing a religious element and those that didn’t.
Almost all wielded a kind of self-improvement, “better life” fantasy as their main selling point, which could make it hard to distinguish between legitimate businesses with altruistic motives .
. . and those that stepped over the line and abused the basic instinct of humans to want to be better.
“His photo is useless. I can already tell it’s been run through one of those AI-enhancement programs, judging by that jawline. It’s going to take me a while to figure out what he really looks like.”
I grunted.
“I’ll keep digging into him.”
“Focus on finding a location.” Finding the cult’s base—“the Garden”—was my only priority right now. “I’ll text you if we learn anything else.”
“Another storm’s hitting your area tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said, though even I could already see the dark clouds blotting out the mountain peaks in the not-so-very-far distance, towing a promise of thunderous tumult in their wake.
By the time I returned to the tent, I’d caught Ben and Matthew weaving through the woods with the dinner trays.
Tonight, dinner was cut short for Maxwell’s evening lecture; even she was worried about the reliability of the broadcast due to the arriving storm.
The change in schedule meant that hours passed between when I’d talked to Callum and when I finally had the chance to reveal what he’d found.
“A cult?” Lara stared at me.
“Yes,” I grunted. There was no easy way to share our suspicions, so I didn’t sugarcoat it; it was better to rip off the Band-Aid and move on. “We can’t say for certain—”
“But you think she was recruited to a cult—excuse me, a sex cult,” she said in that stern doctor voice, the one that feigned calm even when she was unsteady inside.
I nodded slowly, watching every shade of green cascade through her eyes as she continued to metabolize the idea.
She paced the tent, worrying her bottom lip until all I could think about was kissing her to make it stop.
Looking at me over her shoulder, she finally spoke again. “We have to find her.”
“We will. Just remember, right now, we have nothing to suggest Rachel is in danger—physical or life-threatening danger.” Lara glared at me.
“Think about what Sarah told you. It appears everyone who joins, joins willingly.” Aside from one incident in Maxwell’s former life, there was no indication that Eden’s Children was harming anyone.
“So, you think there is a chance, in this world, that this sex cult isn’t exploitative? That they aren’t taking advantage of her?”
I gritted my teeth. I’d always made it a point to not argue possibilities. Decisions could only be made with what was known, not what was possible. But I couldn’t argue with her. I couldn’t be objective with her.
“No,” I admitted roughly.
Lara flinched and then steeled her shoulders. “We can’t let Sarah go.”
“Sarah is an adult. We can’t force her to do or not do something she wants—”
“We can. We can warn her, stop her. I can tell her the truth,” she rioted, a hungry desperation seeming to drive her.
“Lara.” I took her shoulders, demanding her attention. This wasn’t about Sarah. Not really. This was about her sister, and Lara holding on to all this guilt for no damn reason, let alone a good one. “We’re going to find Rachel. If they are going to take Sarah, we can follow them, rescue them both—”
“No.” Her head shook, caught up in the storm of her mind. She grabbed my shirt like she wanted to shake me—like she needed to shake me—into hearing her. “I have to help her. Warn her. I won’t use her as bait. I won’t risk it—risk losing her, too. I can’t. I can’t lose—”
“Lara . . .” I caught her chin on the edges of my knuckles, pinning her head in place. “What is it?” I searched her face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Her throat bobbed, her eyelids drooping heavily. The pink swells of her lips parted, the warm rush of her breath tempting me to take a taste.
Everything she did tempted me to take another taste. Another kiss. When she looked at me. When she spoke to me. When she accused me of breaking her sister’s heart. Every single thing made me want to cover her mouth with mine and show her that what I’d said earlier had been the truth.
It had only ever taken one look at her to completely undo me.
“Calder . . .” Lara swallowed again, her eyes glistening.
There was something else.
I wanted to catch the first tear that fell with my thumb.
The second, with my tongue. I wanted to pull her resolute but weary frame against me and kiss away every pain.
But instead, I forced myself to stay steady.
To breathe steady. To ignore the white of her knuckles where she gripped my shirt, and instead focus on only her motionless stare.
One wrong move—one loud heartbeat—would break it.
The greatest skill a tracker could possess after an acute attention to detail was an enduring ability to be still. To let the answers come to him. To me.
It had never not worked. Until right now.
That storm Callum had warned was going to “hit” . . . well, it seemed he’d chosen that word with purpose. Thunder cracked then like a bat against a perfect pitch.
Lara jumped and then shuddered, dragging in a breath as she pulled away from me. “I need some air.”
She was out of the tent before I could stop her, and there was no calling after her. Not now. Not after curfew.