Death Du Jour (38 page)

When Kathryn had finished and declined seconds, I cleared the dishes and rejoined her at the table.

“So. How did you find me?” I patted her hand and smiled encouragingly.

“You gave me your card.” She dug it from her pocket and laid it on the table. Then her fingers went back to the place mat. “I called the number in Beaufort a couple of times, but you were never there. Finally some guy answered and said you’d gone back to Charlotte.”

“That was Sam Rayburn. I was staying on his boat.”

“Anyway, I decided to leave Beaufort.” She raised her eyes to mine, then quickly dropped them. “I hitched up here and went to the university, but it took longer than I’d figured. When I got to campus you were gone. I crashed with someone, then this morning she dropped me here on her way to work.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“She looked you up in some kind of book.”

“I see.” I was sure my home address was not listed in the faculty directory. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

Kathryn nodded. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red and a dark crescent underscored each lower lid.

“I would have returned your calls but you left no number. When Detective Ryan and I visited the compound on Tuesday we didn’t see you.”

“I was there, but . . .” Her voice faded out.

I waited.

Birdie appeared in the doorway then withdrew, deflected by the tension. The clock chimed the half-hour. Kathryn’s fingers worked the fringe.

Finally, I could take it no longer.

“Kathryn, where’s Carlie?” I placed my hand on hers.

She raised her eyes to mine. They looked flat and empty.

“They’re taking care of him.” Her voice was small, like a child answering an accusation.

“Who is?”

She pulled her hand free, rested her elbows on the table, and rubbed small circles on each of her temples. Her eyes were back on the place mat.

“Is Carlie on Saint Helena?”

Another nod.

“Did you want to leave him there?”

She shook her head and her hands slid upward so the palms pressed against her temples.

“Is the baby all right?”

“He’s my baby! Mine!”

The vehemence took me by surprise.

“I can take care of him.” When she raised her head a tear glistened on each cheek. Her eyes bored into mine.

“Who says you can’t?”

“I’m his mother.” Her voice trembled. With what? Exhaustion? Fear? Resentment?

“Who is taking care of Carlie?”

“But what if I’m wrong? What if it’s all true?” Her gaze went back to the tabletop.

“What if
what
is true?”

“I love my baby. I want the best for him.”

Kathryn’s answers were unrelated to my questions. She was probing her own dark places, reworking a familiar discourse with herself. Only this time it was in my kitchen.

“Of course you do.”

“I don’t want my baby to die.” Her fingers trembled as they caressed the tassels on the mat. It was the same movement I’d seen her use to stroke Carlie’s head.

“Is Carlie sick?” I asked, alarmed.

“No. He’s perfect.” The words were almost inaudible. A tear dropped to the mat.

I looked at the small, dark spot, feeling completely inept.

“Kathryn, I don’t know how to help you. You have to tell me what’s going on.”

The phone rang, but I ignored it. From the other room I heard a click, my message, then a beep followed by a tinny voice. More clicks, then silence.

Kathryn didn’t move. She seemed paralyzed by the thoughts that tortured her. Across the silence I felt her pain, and waited.

Seven spots darkened the blue linen. Ten. Thirteen.

After what seemed an eternity Kathryn raised her head. She wiped each cheek and brushed back her hair,
then intertwined her fingers and placed her hands carefully in the center of the mat. She cleared her throat twice.

“I don’t know what it’s like to live a normal life.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “Until this year I didn’t know that I wasn’t.”

She dropped her eyes.

“I guess it had to do with having Carlie. I never doubted anything before he was born. It never occurred to me to ask questions. I was home-schooled so what I knew—” Again the smile. “What I know of the world is limited.” She thought for a moment. “What I know of the world is what they want me to know.”

“They?”

She clutched her hands so tightly the knuckles grew white.

“We’re never supposed to talk about group matters.” She swallowed. “They’re my family. They’ve been my world since I was eight years old. He’s been my father and counselor and teacher and—”

“Dom Owens?”

Her eyes flew to mine. “He’s a brilliant man. He knows all about health and reproduction and evolution and pollution and how to keep the spiritual and biological and cosmic forces in balance. He sees and understands things the rest of us don’t have a clue about. It’s not Dom. I trust Dom. He would never hurt Carlie. He does what he does to protect us. He’s watching out for us. I’m just not sure—”

She closed her eyes and tipped her face upward. A small vessel throbbed in the side of her neck. Her larynx rose and fell, then she took a deep breath, lowered her chin, and looked directly into my eyes.

“That girl. The one you were looking for. She was there.”

I had to strain to hear her.

“Heidi Schneider?”

“I never knew her last name.”

“Tell me what you remember about her.”

“Heidi joined somewhere else. Texas, I think. She lived on Saint Helena for about two years. She was older than me, but I liked her. She was always willing to talk or to help me out. She was funny.” She paused. “Heidi was supposed to procreate with Jason—”

“What?” I thought I’d heard incorrectly.

“Her procreation partner was Jason. But she was in love with Brian, the guy she was with when she joined. He’s the one in your snapshot.”

“Brian Gilbert.” My mouth felt dry.

“Anyway, she and Brian used to sneak off to be together.” Her eyes went to a point somewhere in the distance. “When Heidi got pregnant she was terrified because the baby wouldn’t be sanctified. She tried to hide it, but eventually they found out.”

“Owens?”

Her eyes refocused on mine and I could see real fear.

“It doesn’t matter. It affects everyone.”

“What does?”

“The order.” She rubbed her palms on the mat then reclasped her hands. “Some things I can’t talk about. Do you want to hear this?” She looked at me and I could see that her eyes were starting to water again.

“Go on.”

“One day Heidi and Brian didn’t show up for morning meeting. They were gone.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think Owens sent someone to find them?”

Her eyes slid to the window, and she bit down on her lower lip.

“There’s more. One night last fall Carlie woke up fussy, so I went downstairs to get him milk. I heard movement in the office, then a woman speaking, real quiet like she didn’t want anyone to hear. She must have been on the phone.”

“Did you recognize her voice?”

“Yes. It was one of the women who worked in the office.”

“What did she say?”

“She was telling someone that someone else was O.K. I didn’t hang around to hear more.”

“Go on.”

“About three weeks ago the same thing happened, only this time I overheard people arguing. They were really angry, but the door was closed, so I couldn’t make out their words. It was Dom and this same woman.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. She still did not look at me.

“The next day she was gone and I never saw her again. She and another woman. They just disappeared.”

“Don’t people come and go from the group?”

Her eyes locked on to mine.

“She worked in the office. I think she was the one taking the calls you were asking about.” I could see her chest rise and fall as she fought back the tears. “She was Heidi’s best friend.”

I felt the knot tighten in my stomach. “Was her name Jennifer?”

Kathryn nodded.

I took a deep breath. Stay calm for Kathryn’s sake.

“Who was the other woman?”

“I’m not sure. She hadn’t been there long. Wait. Maybe her name was Alice. Or Anne.”

My heart changed speed. Oh, God. No.

“Do you know where she came from?”

“Somewhere up North. No, maybe it was Europe. Sometimes she and Jennifer spoke a different language.”

“Do you think Dom Owens had Heidi and her babies killed? Is that why you’re afraid for Carlie?”

“You don’t understand. It isn’t Dom. He’s just trying to protect us and get us across.” She gazed at me intently, as though trying to reach inside my head. “Dom doesn’t believe in Antichrists. He just wants to transport us out of the destruction.”

Her voice had grown tremulous and short gasps punctuated the spaces between her words. She rose and crossed to the window.

“It’s the others. It’s her. Dom wants us all to live forever.”

“Who?”

Kathryn paced the kitchen like a caged animal, her fingers twisting the front of her cotton blouse. Tears slid down her face.

“But not now. It’s too soon. It can’t be now.” Pleading.

“What’s too soon?”

“What if they’re wrong? What if there isn’t enough cosmic energy? What if there’s nothing out there? What if Carlie just dies? What if my baby dies?”

Fatigue. Anxiety. Guilt. The mix won over and Kathryn began to weep uncontrollably. She was growing incoherent and I knew I would learn nothing further.

I went to her and hugged her with both arms.
“Kathryn, you need rest. Please, come and lie down for a while. We’ll talk later.”

She made a sound I couldn’t interpret, and allowed herself to be led upstairs to the guest room. I got towels and went down to the parlor for her pack. When I returned, she lay on the bed, one arm thrown across her forehead, eyes shut, tears sliding into the hair at her temples.

I left the pack on the dresser and pulled the window shades. As I was closing the door she spoke softly, eyes still closed, lips barely moving.

Her words frightened me more than anything I had heard in a long time.

“‘
E
TERNAL LIFE
’? T
HOSE WERE HER EXACT WORDS
?”

“Yes.” I clutched the phone so tightly the tendons in my wrist ached.

“Give it to me again.”

“‘What if they go and we’re left behind?’ ‘What if I deny Carlie eternal life?’”

I waited while Red considered Kathryn’s words. When I switched hands I could see a print where my palm had sweated onto the plastic.

“I don’t know, Tempe. It’s a tough call. How can we ever know when a group will turn violent? Some of these marginal religious movements are extremely volatile. Others are harmless.”

“Are there no predictors?”

What if my baby dies?

“There are a number of factors that feed back on each other. First there’s the sect itself, its beliefs and rituals, its organization and, of course, its leader. Then there are the outside forces. How much hostility is directed toward the members? How stigmatized are they by society? And the mistreatment doesn’t have to be real. Even perceived persecution can cause an organization to become violent.”

He just wants to transport us out of the destruction.

“What types of beliefs push these groups over the line?”

“That’s what concerns me about your young lady. Sounds like she’s talking about a voyage. About going somewhere for eternal life. That sounds apocalyptic.”

He’s just trying to protect us and get us across.

“The end of the world.”

“Exactly. The last days. Armageddon.”

“That’s not new. Why does an apocalyptic worldview encourage violence? Why not just hunker in and wait?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It doesn’t always. But these groups believe the last days are imminent, and they see themselves as having a key role in the events that are about to unfold. They’re the chosen ones who will give birth to the new order.”

She was terrified because the baby wouldn’t be sanctified.

“So what develops is a kind of dualism in their thinking. They are good, and all others are hopelessly corrupt, totally lacking in moral virtue. Outsiders come to be demonized.”

“You’re with me or you’re against me.”

“Exactly. According to these visions the last days are going to be characterized by violence. Some groups go into a sort of survivalist mode, stockpiling weapons and setting up elaborate surveillance systems against the evil social order that’s out to get them. Or the Antichrist, or Satan, or whatever they see as the perceived threat.”

Dom doesn’t believe in Antichrists.

“Apocalyptic beliefs can be especially volatile when embodied in a charismatic leader. Koresh saw himself as the Lord’s appointed.”

“Go on.”

“You see, one of the problems for a self-appointed prophet is that he has to constantly reinvent himself. There’s no institutional support for his long-term authority. There are also no institutional restraints on his behavior. The leader runs the show, but only as long as his disciples follow. So these guys can be very volatile. And they can do whatever they choose within their sphere of power.