A Father's Quest (13 page)

“Thank you for taking this case. Have your investigators found anything, Mr. Franey?”

“Call me Leonard. And, yes, Jonas, we’ve got a plethora of facts for you. I’ve had my secretary copy you on everything. She’ll hand you a flash drive on your way out. I’d like you both to look over the information after you leave here. Sometimes a victim’s loved ones can catch small points that lead to big breaks.”

Victim?
Jonas looked at Remy, whose eyes had gone wide with alarm.

“So, Jonas, now that you’re here, I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the GoodFriends. How and when did you learn that your ex-wife had joined the group?”

“Cheryl hooked up with them while I was out of the country. Apparently the leader of the group—I believe he calls himself Brother Thom—was interviewed on local TV. Cheryl told one of our friends she thought he was the sexiest preacher she’d ever seen.”

Leonard nodded. “I watched the video clip included in the background information you sent me. You did a very thorough job, by the way. If you’re ever in the market for a job…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Jonas was pleased by the praise. “You called my ex-wife a victim. If she joined this group willingly—and she made it clear to our friends that this was her intent—how does that make her anything but self-serving and maybe naive?”

Leonard sat forward, his hands clasped in front of him on a pile of papers. “While you and I can clearly see that this sort of religious group is a sham, there are many people who are seduced by a charismatic leader or minister who convinces them to do things that would immediately raise a red flag to the average person. Being gullible shouldn’t make you easy prey, but it often does.”

Jonas relaxed slightly. “Okay. I’ll buy that. I was afraid you meant a physical sort of violation. Bondage, rape, abuse.”

Leonard picked up a piece of paper and said, “I’m not ruling out anything at the moment.”

“Pardon?” Remy asked. “What do you mean?”

“A friend of mine in the FBI faxed me this. It’s a copy of an interview he had last summer with a woman who claimed she barely escaped from the GoodFriends with her life. We haven’t had a chance to verify any of her charges. The police dropped the whole thing because, like your ex-wife, the woman has a history of mental instability.”

Jonas reached for the folder Leonard handed him. He quickly scanned the transcript. The woman was deemed “hysterical” by the interviewer. She also came across as traumatized and desperately afraid of Brother Thom.

“Isolating people is a good way to establish control over them,” Franey said. “On their website, the GoodFriends promote a separatist lifestyle called InFaith living for the most faithful followers. Some of the photos from a couple years back show quite a gypsy caravan. For some reason, the group’s numbers have severely declined.”

Jonas closed the folder, intending to read it thoroughly later. “I’ve been checking the site daily and have yet to see any updates. There’s still a donation button, and I sent them five bucks when I first got back. The charge has never shown up on my credit card.”

Leonard shuffled through the pieces of paper on his desk, finally pulling one sheet free of the others. “My staff has been following the money trail, and, unfortunately, it’s as if the well has dried up. Whatever was working for the GoodFriends in the past, isn’t happening at all now. The church appears to be broke.”

“Do you have any idea where they are?” Remy asked.

The P.I. turned to a very large, very sleek and modern-looking computer. A wave of his hand seemed to bring the thing to life. By stretching close to Remy, Jonas could see an image that might have come from a satellite. “He’s dumped his regular cell phone. Since you documented a recent call from your daughter, we assume he’s using the prepaid sort, although we have no record of him purchasing one. In fact, his credit cards are all maxed out and frozen. My contact at the IRS says they’ve seen nothing from either the pastor or the church in two years.”

He glanced at Remy. “So, the answer to your question is a slightly qualified no. People who have found success in a certain area tend to return to that area when they’re in trouble. I would bet you anything he’s still in the South.”

Jonas thought so, too. “Unfortunately, the group has held revival meetings in every state from Louisiana to Florida, and as far north as Tennessee.”

Leonard looked at him. “That’s where the new toys come in. Facial recognition software, for one. And, don’t kid yourself, Big Brother is watching. Brother Thom might be keeping a low profile for now, but he’ll have to surface some time. Every big tent evangelist I’ve ever met has a bit of the stage performer in him. These guys get off on the adulation. I promise you, Brother Thom’s ego isn’t going to let him stay in the backwoods and boonies forever. He will resurface. And soon. I feel it.”

Jonas was heartened by the man’s confidence. He looked at Remy and smiled. She smiled back but not quite as enthusiastically as he would have imagined.

“Do you have some kind of contract or agreement I need to sign so you can get paid for your services?”

Jonas asked.

“Normally, yes. But I’ve taken this job pro bono as a favor to a friend.”

“A friend? Who?”

Leonard didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Remy and studied her a few seconds. “You look very familiar, Remy. Have you appeared on Shane’s television show?”

“You mean, Shane Reynard? The producer of
Sentinel Passtime
?” she asked. She didn’t know Shane well, but Jessie had worked with him when she did stunts for the show that was loosely based on Cade’s hometown of Sentinel Pass. “No. I take care of old people. My twin sister, Jessie, has done some work on the show. She’s also a free runner with Team Shockwave.”

Leonard snapped his fingers. “Jess deLeon. Of course. One of my favorites. I heard she was injured.”

The two chatted a few minutes longer before Jonas cleared his throat. “Is there anything else I should be doing right now to find my daughter? Can you put me to work or point me in the right direction? I’m going a bit crazy here.”

Leonard rubbed his chin pensively before answering. “I haven’t seen anything to indicate your daughter is in any immediate danger. Long-term, of course, the brainwashing and cult mentality could have a detrimental effect. And given your ex-wife’s mental-health issues, you have a right to be concerned, but I’d say for the moment, why not let me do my job?”

Jonas looked at Remy, who gave him a nod of agreement.

“I’ve sent one of my associates to talk to the woman who says she escaped from the group. She’s staying with family in Tallahassee and works a swing shift. He probably won’t have anything for me until tomorrow, but I promise to call the minute I hear something. Where are you staying?”

“A resort on St. Pete’s Beach,” Remy said.

“Good choice. I know how stressful waiting can be, but, truthfully, everything that can be done at the moment is being handled. I promise you that. And we will find your daughter.” He looked less stern and more fatherly when he stood and reached across the desk to shake Jonas’s hand. “Birdie is going to need you at your best when she comes home. There’s no way of knowing how traumatic this has been. Luckily, she’s very young and her mother has been with her, but the most effective use of your time may be to take a walk on the beach, have a glass of wine and get some rest. Let Florida work its magic and let me do my job. Okay?”

Jonas shook the man’s hand. He felt hopeful for the first time in much too long, but he honestly didn’t know if he could relax until Birdie was in his arms. Still, the man did make a valid point. Jonas wasn’t going to be any good if he fell apart the minute she was back.

Remy got up, too, but when she shook Leonard’s hand, she said, “This is probably going to sound a little woo-woo, but in my dream last night I saw a big brown-and-silver motor home parked near a bunch of run-down buildings. Nobody was around and I didn’t see Birdie, but I felt…creeped out. Like people were watching me from behind the rusted, sagging window screens.”

The hair on Jonas’s arms stood up. “You didn’t tell me you had a dream.”

She looked embarrassed. “It could be nothing. Like I said, I didn’t see Birdie. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Leonard leaned back abruptly and pawed through one of the piles on his desk withdrawing an eight-by-ten piece of paper. “Did the motor home look like this?”

“Yes. I remember the wavy emblem on the side. I wondered if it was supposed to represent heaven.”

“I had a granny who had the sight. Others might scoff at dreams, but not me,” Leonard said. “Anytime you see something, Remy—big or small—you let me know.”

“I will. Take care. I hope you find her soon.” She glanced at Jonas as if she might add something else, but walked toward the door, instead.

“Thank you, Leonard. I’ll have my phone on me at all times. Call me if you hear anything.”

They exited the office, which occupied an entire corner of an upscale strip mall. It was nearly noon, but Jonas’s stomach was a ball of knots. The thought of food did nothing for him. “How about we check into the hotel and take a walk on the beach? Maybe grab a bite later.”

“Good idea.”

Despite the focus on relaxing, the fear of not knowing where his daughter was, combined with the stress of worrying that he wasn’t doing more, had produced a blinding pain in his head.

When they reached the car, he made an impulsive decision and handed her the keys. “Would you mind driving? My head is killing me.”

“Seriously?”

Now that he’d admitted the problem out loud, the signs he knew all too well started multiplying. “Stress migraine. I have some pills the army doc gave me. Can you pop the trunk?”

His hand was shaking by the time he tapped two horse tablets into his palm. He took them then gulped down a couple of mouthfuls of water. Room temperature, since they’d left the plastic bag on the floor of the backseat instead of putting it in the cooler in the trunk.

The bag.

He looked at Remy but she was busy pulling a pair of oversize sunglasses out of her purse. She had to have seen his other purchase. A foolish, idiotic buy. He’d apologize to her for sending the wrong message as soon as his head stopped pounding.

He lowered himself into the car and put on his seat belt.

“I’ll be fine by the time we get to the hotel,” he said, watching her adjust the power seat and mirrors to her satisfaction. She also turned off the AC and opened the windows while she programmed the hotel’s address into his built-in navigational system. She’d mastered the unit he’d never even used until this trip.

Typical, he thought. Everybody always underestimates the blonde. He closed his eyes and willed himself to let go and relax. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the motor home she claimed to have seen.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your dream?”

“It wasn’t exactly a dream. I slept like the dead last night,” she said, her tone wistful. He understood completely. He’d felt the same.

“While I was showering, I tried to revisit the place in my mind where I first met Birdie. She wasn’t there, but that gave me a chance to look around.”

And she saw a motor home identical to the one their disappearing preacher drove. He didn’t know if he believed that or not. Maybe she simply had a very fertile imagination.

Did it matter? Not really, he decided. He shifted his thoughts to Leonard. The guy was the real deal. Jonas trusted him. He didn’t know which of the two approaches—the mystical or hard science—would be the one to find Birdie, but he honestly didn’t care. As long as one of them did.

He was nearly asleep, the drugs doing their magic on his brain chemistry, when she said, “Do you remember that night in high school when we slept together?”

“I must have been the dumbest high school kid in the world. I convinced myself that spending the night together chastely would prove we really loved each other—unlike all our dopey friends who called it love but only wanted to have sex. That was without a doubt the most grueling night of my life.” His breath caught. “At the time.”

“Don’t think you were alone, my friend. Girls have hormones, too. You have no idea how much I wanted to do it.”

He opened one eye to look at her. “Why didn’t you say so? I was being good because you were being good.”

“I was being good because Jessie bet me twenty bucks I couldn’t spend the whole night in the same bed with you without having sex. I had to prove her wrong.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I do hate your sister.” Then he turned his head to take advantage of the sudden cessation of pain and stopped thinking. Destination: oblivion.

Remy studied Jonas in repose. He looked tired and defeated, but still as handsome as the boy she hadn’t slept with all those years ago.

A short toot let her know the light had changed. She waved and stepped on the gas. His car was an absolute dream to drive. She loved the new-car smell, the responsiveness and, above all, the lovely English voice on the speaker that told her when to turn.