She moved to the window in the entry, checking on Wilt again. He hadn’t moved from his car. Systematically, she began testing the locks. “So after the Refuge burns down, Rainier locates his long-lost brother and convinces him to scam his congregation and move north to start his own commune.”
“Spot on as far as I can tell. If Parson’s not hiding Rainier he sure as hell knows where he is.”
Clare nearly slapped her forehead. “I didn’t tell you. They think they found him.”
“Who? Rainier? Where?” There was tension in Adam’s voice now.
“A town called Farrell three hours southwest from here. Someone called in his car and plate numbers. They said they saw him going into an old property outside of town. He had a kid with him.”
“Who made the call?”
“Not sure. Hughes said it might’ve been anonymous.” Silence hung on the line connecting them, and she could feel gears turning within it. “Do you think it’s a decoy? Like the fake burglary call Saint put in before attacking us at the hotel?”
Something clattered and banged on Adam’s end and he grunted. “What’s Hughes’s number?” She rattled it off to him. There was more commotion from his end. “I’m going to call him and let him know what we found about Rainier and Parson. How many deputies does he have up there with you?”
“Just one.”
“Shit. Okay, I’ll have him send a couple more units just in case.” He paused. “Got your gun?”
Her eyes shot to the suitcase across the room. “Yeah.”
“Good. Keep it handy. I have friend who’s an agent here in the city. I’ll talk to him and see if I can get some support to go after Parson and his group. Until then, keep the doors locked and your phone nearby.”
Her heart had begun beating faster. She scanned the rain-flecked windows. “No one knows where we are.” She said it as much to reassure herself as Adam.
“Can’t be too careful. I’ll be in touch.” Then he was gone.
Clare listened to the water dripping in the downspouts. The quiet crackle of the fire. Her heart continued its increased pace, and her nerves thrummed. Rainier and Parson were connected, just as she’d suspected, but it went much farther back than she could’ve ever guessed. Back before Rainier had ever met her father and became drawn into the folds of his madness. But with the revelation came an entirely new set of disturbing questions. Like why hadn’t Rainier started a new life with the help of Parson after surviving the cult’s destruction? Why hide in the woods, keeping he and Shanna both isolated? Unless Parson wouldn’t have condoned the abuse and twisted relationship. But that didn’t really hold water either. Not if he were willing to yank up his family’s roots and start a new life in the north for Rainier. There was something deeper going on beneath the surface, something that had started years and years ago and was just now coming to fruition. But what?
Her head spun. She needed to sit down. Needed to finish her drink. Needed Eric.
Eric.
“Shit,” she swore, looking at her phone. He’d be nearing or in town by now and wanting to know where to find her. She frowned. Why hadn’t he called after landing? She checked her text messages but there was nothing new after their previous conversation in the morning. She dialed his number and began pacing across the living room. Hearing his voice would do her good. Maybe she’d have him meet up with Adam when he arrived and they could figure out what to do next, how to reunite them, because she needed him.
“Hey, I’m almost there,” Eric said into her ear when he picked up a second later.
“Wh . . . what?”
He laughed. “I made really good time even though your directions were kinda crappy.”
Clare slowed her pacing and stopped between the kitchen and the living room. “What are you talking about?”
Eric was quiet for a moment. “Your safe house. You gave me directions to where you’re at. You texted them to me.”
She shook her head. Couldn’t help it. “Honey, I never sent you anything.”
“Yes, you did. Right after I landed. You texted and said you couldn’t talk but I should follow these directions and make sure no one was tailing me.” She could hear the quiet hum of his rental’s engine in the background. “Are you fucking with me or something?”
“No, what? No, there’s just—” She yanked the phone away from her ear and opened her messages app. She scanned up and down their conversation.
Nothing. No directions. No replies. Nothing.
When she brought the phone back to her head Eric was talking again. “—way the hell out here but I thought that was the whole point.”
“There’s something wrong. I didn’t send you those directions. There’s nothing on my phone.”
“It came from you, honey. I’m looking at it right now.”
“I don’t care if it came from me, I’m telling you I didn’t send you any directions. I don’t even know how to get here.” Clare walked on not-quite-there legs to her suitcase and opened it, digging furiously through the clothes. She checked twice before sitting back on her haunches and staring stupidly at the strewn shirts and pants.
Her gun was gone.
This wasn’t happening.
It was as if she’d just gotten off an amusement park ride. The floor shifted beneath her feet and the walls expanded and contracted as if they were breathing. “Go back to town and wait for Adam, he’s on his way up north. Something’s wrong.”
“What is it? Who sent the directions?”
“I don’t know, but you have to turn around.”
“I’m only a mile away though. I can be there in a minute.”
“Eric, please. Just do what I say.”
Clare hung up, her thoughts a mass of unmeshed gears. She pried herself free of the encroaching paralysis and moved to the hallway. She had to get Shanna up. Hughes was in on everything, after all. That or someone hacked her phone and used the GPS to find where they were. Whatever was happening, they needed to run before it found them. She shoved into the room and froze, staring dumbly.
The bed was empty.
Clare’s heart dropped, stopping cold for half a beat, then rocketed to triple speed. “Shanna?” She knelt on the floor, looking beneath the frame. Nothing. The closet was empty as well, save for a few wire hangers that swung when she yanked the door open. “Shanna?” Her voice cracked and died as she hurried out of the room and went down the hallway, flinging doors wide.
Bathroom. Empty.
Second bedroom. Empty.
Master bedroom. Empty.
“Shanna!” No answer. The house was a tomb.
Clare hurried to the front door, expecting it to be wide open, but it was still locked tight. Had the deadbolt been thrown earlier when she checked the door? She couldn’t remember. She had to let Wilt know what was happening, had to find Shanna.
The rain felt like needles of ice. They lanced through her thin shirt and slid across her exposed skin in frigid trails. The yard was quiet, a haze of moisture obscuring the lake’s edge. Shanna was nowhere to be seen. Clare jogged to the cruiser. It wasn’t running as it had been earlier. The fact fell away amidst her panic, as did the angle of Deputy Wilt’s shape against the door. He’s taking a nap, she had time to think before rapping hard against the glass. He didn’t move.