Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce) (9 page)

“You should come to the farm tonight. There’s a meeting for anyone interested in talking to Adam and his counselors. I’ll be there. We could talk. Sometimes talking about a problem does the trick.”

“That sounds…great.”

“I’m Melanie, by the way.” She rifled through the bag, drew out a business card. “The address of the farm is on here. Come about seven. I’ll hold seats for you and your friend.”

Ronni accepted the card and the woman headed for the door. “See you tonight. And if you change your mind about the extensions, let me know.”

She left in a swirl of pink. Ronni pocketed the card. “Pretty forthcoming about her financial woes.”

“Think it’s true?”

“According to my research, yes. The salon was having problems a few years ago. Adam showed up and turned things around for Melanie. He has a knack with people and numbers.”

“That’s why you wanted to come here. You knew Melly was tied in with him.”

“Her spiel was definitely polished.”

Thomas raised his fists and gave a mock cheer. “Go Team Adam.”

“Yes, well.” Ronni eyed his clothes. “Right now, Team Thomas needs to finish his makeover.”

Two doors down from the salon was a clothing store. Inside, Thomas picked out a couple of shirts. Ronni shot them all down. “Too sportsy. Too surfer boy. Too geeky.”

“Geek is what we’re going for.”

“Geek as in intelligent and Type A, not
I live in my mother’s basement and wear tinfoil hats
.”

He looked at the Beavis and Butt-head characters on the front. He’d only picked it out to irritate her. “Really? You got that from a cartoon shirt?”

She rolled her eyes and sorted through a rack of button downs with a famous skateboarder’s name on the label. Drawing out an extra-large, she held up the blue plaid to his shoulders. “Moderately conservative with the buttons and collar, but not geeky. It says you’re cautious and sort of middle-of-the-road. Nonthreatening.”

He’d never been middle-of-the-road anything. “What are you going to wear?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Why?”

“The vibe you’re giving off right now is hardly
nonthreatening
.” Chaotic, yes. Wounded and trying hard to cover it up. “Bet we could get you one of those powder puff dresses like your new friend Mel was wearing.”

“Pale pink isn’t my color.”

Hot pink sure was. “Isn’t that the point? Becoming someone we’re not?”

Ronni turned to a nearby mirror, fingered her hair. “For you, yes. For me? No. I need to go in exactly the way I am.”

Chapter Nine

Four hours later

Heaven’s Gate Farm

Thomas took a seat in a folding chair next to Ronni and surreptitiously inventoried those in attendance.
Small crowd.

Ten people in the chapel—seven women, three men—getting coffee and mulling around in the converted horse barn. Not exactly easy to stay out of the limelight with so few in attendance, but that wasn’t the plan. They wanted to be seen. Wanted to be invited into iChurch.

Too bad Ronni had de-poofed her hair. Those gorgeous, wild corkscrews would have definitely caught Adam’s eye. Of course, she already had an in. As the person who’d saved his life, didn’t he owe her at least a few minutes of his time?

Going in as a disgruntled FBI agent, however, was damn risky. Thomas didn’t believe it would work. Adam might be a narcissist who thought he was divine, but he was also smart and cunning. Would Ronni be able to convince him her disenchanted agent shtick was real?

A young man with a bedroll and backpack entered, a collie-mix at his feet. A few staff members manned the coffee and cookies table and none chased the kid or dog out. Thomas felt the familiar kick in his stomach to protect the kid. He needed a meal and a safe place to sleep. A shower and a decent job. Food for the dog.

Focus
. He wasn’t there to save the world. Tonight, that was Ronni’s job. He was tagging along to watch her backside and assist if anything went sideways.

“It’s like a freakin’ AA meeting in here,” he muttered, just to make conversation.

Ronni sat silent and still next to him. He could sense her nerves were taut, her mind totally focused on the evening ahead. When she didn’t answer with a snarky comeback, Thomas rose, went to the table, and retrieved a couple of cookies and two cups of coffee. He nodded at the kid, asked about the dog, which was indeed a Collie-Shepard mix, and returned to his seat.

He handed a coffee to Ronni. Two women were sitting down in front of them, talking softly. One looked like she’d been crying for days.

His partner eyed the cup with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

“Blending in. And I need some sustenance after a full day with you.”

Reluctantly, she accepted the cup, but didn’t rise to the goading. He offered a cookie, but she shook her head. “How can you eat right now?”

He could always eat. “Is that against the rules of engagement?”

She set the coffee on the floor under her chair. “Not recommended.”

“You think they sprinkle mojo powder in the cookie dough to weaken my mind?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Thomas eyeballed the cookie. Looked like a normal store-bought one.

Down the hatch
.

The door at the front of the room opened. A man stepped inside, followed by another. Both were dressed casually in khakis and button-downs. Sleeves rolled to their elbows and reserved smiles on their faces. A couple of good ol’ George W types.

Neither of the men was Adam.

A third man emerged and stuck to the side wall, leaning back against it. Military short hair, intense eyes that sized up everyone in the room, a tattoo on his lower left arm. Jacob Warren, Adam’s right-hand man. Thomas automatically scanned the man’s outline. No tell-tale bulges under his clothes…he appeared unarmed.

Of course, iChurch wanted to be seen as peaceful. Wouldn’t do to have a member walking around with a weapon.

“Friends,” the first George W lookalike said, spreading his arms. “Thank you for visiting our home tonight. Heaven’s Gate and iChurch are delighted to have you. Counselors are available. Help yourself to the food and drinks, or if you just need a quiet place to contemplate your life and meditate on why God brought you here, you can do that too. Let me make one thing clear, iChurch is nondenominational. We welcome all who are diligent in heart, regardless of age, ethnicity, economic status, or religious preference. All those who seek truth are our friends, and we open our arms, and our home, to you.”

Several women entered, carrying white packets. One of them was Melanie. She gave Ronni and Thomas a small wave.

The man continued to speak while his companions passed out the packets and pens. Inside were brochures.
Financial Woes Solved in Three Easy Steps
.
How to Know When Your Marriage Can’t Be Saved
. A few religious tracts. A personal intake form to help those in charge “match you up with the right counselor!” Smiley face.

God help us.

It was all so smooth, so innocent. A cult disguised as Match.com. Just some Good Samaritans helping you out while they gained intel on you, your finances, your family or lack thereof. While appearing to be useful to you, they were, in essence, trying to figure out if you could be useful to
them
.

And those who weren’t? Bye, bye. Sayonara. Don’t let the iChurch gate hit you in the ass on your way out.

As people accepted pens and went to work on the forms, Thomas fingered his and gave Ronni a look.
Do we fill this shit out?

She handed him a pen.

Thomas Lane
. He printed his fake name, the one Dyer had backstopped, and wrote a couple of bullshit sentences about his guilt and his search for a new job. Even though they’d agreed on his cover story as an FBI analyst, he didn’t fill in that blank. Might be interesting to see if Adam, or one of his followers, did their homework.

Glancing at Ronni’s form, he noticed hers was mostly blank as well. She’d filled in her name and in the comments section, wrote, “I need to speak with Adam.”

Short and to the point.
Good strategy
.

She stood, took the form to Melly. The woman greeted her with a hug, then read the form. Ronni said something to her and Melanie’s brows crunched in what looked like confusion. A moment later, she disappeared out the door and Ronni returned to her seat.

The others in attendance were being paired off with iChurch members. Ronni glanced at Jacob and her lips tightened. Thomas followed her line of sight and saw Jacob was watching them.

Ronni shifted, breaking eye contact and pretending to straighten her shirt. “Might as well get this show on the road. I explained to Melanie that I’m a Wrightsville survivor and Adam will want to see me.”

“Okay, then.” Thomas watched as the kid with the dog was escorted out of the room by the guy who’d given the welcome speech. Did that mean he was accepted or getting the boot? “Guess we wait, then.”

They waited. And waited.

A few of the other visitors were also escorted out the door at the front of the room. Those left slowly trickled out the back after their counseling sessions. Two hours later, the man who’d given the welcome speech returned, without the kid, and thanked those left for coming. Thomas, Ronni, and one other woman were the only ones still there.

The coffee urn and cookie plate disappeared. Ronni stood and looked around. “Wait,” she said to the welcoming committee. “I need to talk to Adam.”

The man paused at the front of the room, hand on the doorknob. “I’m afraid Adam isn’t here.” He smiled and nodded at both of them, motioning at his male cohort folding up the chairs in the front row. “Lance, will you please see our guests out?”

What? Thomas started forward. “Now, look here…”

He felt a hand on his forearm, reining him in. “Thank you, but we’ll show ourselves out,” Ronni said, iron in her voice.

She grabbed Thomas’s hand, picked up her purse, and jerked him toward the back door.

Outside, the night air was cool on his face. He didn’t say a word until they were in the car, back on the highway. Ronni stared straight ahead, silent. But the fact she gripped the steering wheel at ten and two and was doing ninety told him all he needed to know.

The top was down and the wind cut through his hair as he stared at the desert flying by on both sides. “Well, that was a waste of time.”

Over the sound of the rushing wind, Ronni’s phone rang from inside her purse. “See who it is,” she said.

He dug past her wallet and a bunch of other stuff until he found the smartphone. Caller ID read “private number”.

“Must be your boyfriend,” he said, holding the phone up so she could see it.

Her lips parted in a smile. “Not my boyfriend.” Taking the phone, she thumbed the ignore button. “Adam.”

“Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“He wants to play games? He can leave a message.”

Chapter Ten

Adam didn’t leave a message.

Ronni paced the room where she’d met with Dupé and the SCVC taskforce the previous day. Thomas had texted Cooper to meet them there, and even though it was late, the Terminator was on his way.

Murphy strikes again.
Had it been someone else calling from a private line and not Adam?

No. She
knew
it was him.

How did he get my number?

Thomas was down the hall, locating a pop machine. The coffee at the meeting hadn’t done the trick—he needed a Mountain Dew.

Ronni needed a replay.

No one with a private number called her on her FBI-issued phone except her old boss back in Des Moines and Victor Dupé. Either man would have left a message. It was possible the call was random—a wrong number—but her gut said no. Adam was testing her. Rejecting her at the meeting, only to turn around and make their first engagement on his terms by calling her.

So like Daniel.

But she hadn’t answered, foiling his plan.

Wrong move. Should have answered.

Thomas strutted in, a pop in one hand and a bag of pretzels in the other. The man never stopped eating and drinking. “You don’t know it was him,” he said, seeming to read her chaotic mind. “Stop beating yourself up. Dyer’s tracing the call. Might have been a spammer.”

Ronni stopped in front of the window. The night was dark, clouds rolling in. In the parking lot, two cars—hers and another—sat under solar-powered LED lights. “It was him.”

“Why’d he ignore you at the meeting?”

“I surprised him. Those who believe they’re divine set the rules and control every situation in their favor. Surprises aren’t allowed.”

Thomas sat on the table, munched on a pretzel. “But you saved his life and he hasn’t seen you in twenty years. You’d think he’d at least be curious.”

“He was only three at the time of the siege and probably doesn’t remember me. Plus, he may have been told a different story about his survival during his deprogramming.”