Chapter 11

Special Agent Jack Stone

"Missing?" I don't move a muscle. I don't want to spook her. I want to hear everything she has to say.

"Missing," she repeats, wrapping her sandwich back up and setting it on her lap.

I glance at the lake just beyond the porch as it reflects the sun like a mirror. Someone screams from the other side of the shore before shrill laughter ensues. A ripple hits the water closer to us as a fish flops to the surface.

"How old was she? When did this happen?" I have about ten more questions I need answers to because my adrenaline just hit its zenith, from zero to hero, and I'm about to jump into my truck and find the girl myself. I'll admit, I'm a little incensed that Fallon is sitting next to me so calmly.

"Twenty-six." She sighs. "We couldn't even file a police report because she let us know she didn't want to be found. We heard from her intermittently over the course of that first year before she cut us off completely. We don't know where she is or who she's with. All we know is?—"

The sound of a car pulling up sidetracks her attention just as a Jeep lands to our right and out hops Nikki along with a yellow lab who bounds right up onto the porch and heads straight for Fallon.

"Buddy." She laughs as she offers him a hearty scratch up and down his back before pulling his head forward and kissing his nose. "How are you so stinking cute?" She scoots over and he jumps up on the seat next to her.

"What gives?" I ask Nikki as she heads over and pulls up a chair for herself.

"Lunch got interrupted." She puts down her tote bag before nodding to Fallon. "Apparently, I was at your mom's place. Rob was telling me all about how the two of you used to run around this town." She laughs as she tucks a crimson lock behind her ear. "Anyway, he had to take off. Emergency. He asked if I could watch the pooch."

"Duty calls," Fallon chimes as she cuddles up with the beast. "And I'll keep him."

"Fine by me," Nikki says, reaching over and taking the second half of my sandwich. "But he said something about Buddy having a hot date at the dog park later."

"This dog has more social engagements than I do," Fallon teases as she offers him another pat.

"How'd the interview go?" Nikki takes a few hungry bites out of my sandwich and I lift a brow her way.

"The victim's mother was cordial," Fallon says. "Emily grew up privileged, took off to peddle something that Linda referenced as hippy-dippy, then went on to live at an intentional community with a couple of the girls she met."

I nod. "And she cut off all communication with her parents." I cast a glance at Fallon because it sounds like I'm echoing her own words about her sister. But now that Nikki's here, I won't dig any deeper unless she reinitiates the conversation.

Nikki pats her mouth down with a napkin. "What prompted that?"

"She told her mother she didn't think it would be healthy," I say.

Nikki tips her head and nods. "Any traces of abuse? Physical, emotional? Maybe her parents were toxic?"

"Maybe," Fallon says. "But I say we track down that intentional community and find out what Emily told her new friends."

"Intentional community." Nikki rolls her eyes as she plucks her laptop out of her bag.

Both Fallon and I pull out our phones and start clicking away.

"I'm diving into the database," I say as I do just that. The FBI has a layout of pretty much every antisocial group from here to Moscow. I doubt this one will be any different. "Linda mentioned that Emily's new friends' names were either Lauren and Dana or Lauren and Reyna."

"She also mentioned that the community was based on a ranch outside of the city," Fallon says. "She didn't say state."

"Where was Emily's head found?" Nikki asks.

"Cheyenne," I say.

"But her body was found in a creek outside of Denver," Fallon says. "I'll get the location pinned and we can search out any communes in that area."

"Not if I beat you to it," I say as I run back in, trade my phone for my laptop, and soon the three of us are racing to the finish line.

"Six known communes in the Denver area," Nikki says.

She has a sick thing about being first. It's not her finest trait.

I'd admit to sharing the same trait, but I've never been first.

"The creek where Emily's body was found is called Sagewood Flats," I say, scanning a map of the area on the screen.

"Sagewood," Fallon repeats. "That's right next door to Ironwood Springs, and bingo, we've got a commune there the database lists as Paradise."

We're quiet for the next few minutes as our fingers fly over our keyboards.

"Paradise is a community of hundreds if not thousands," Nikki says. "Looks as if they own several hundred acres. The land deed belongs to Wilhelmina Lewis who bequeathed it to her son Malcolm."

"Malcolm Lewis," I say under my breath as the three of us tap away once again and Buddy gives a soft bark as if cheering us on. "No record."

"No social media." Nikki sighs.

"But he's in sales," Fallon says as she slides her phone my way. "He's shilling self-help courses called Quantum Leap to Success and Freedom. Looks like it's about mindset and manifestation. Calling and speaking yourself into a shiny new existence."

I grunt as I look over the page myself, "Self-improvement and spiritual enlightenment guaranteed. Find your soulmate, escape financial bondage by earning a real income, and become the version of yourself the universe intended." I shake my head at the screen. "Sounds exactly like what every downtrodden soul wants to hear."

"And desperation is a breeding ground for manipulation at the hands of others." Nikki gives a mournful chuckle. "Heaven help us, I have a feeling Paradise is anything but."

"Agree," Fallon says. "Whoever is lapping up these self-help courses is most likely susceptible to being expertly exploited at the hands of those who prey on the vulnerable."

"Emily's mother said she was selling some hippy-dippy self-help courses. They've got people living at the compound?" I glance at the lake. "Emily said she needed to cut ties with her family. You know what this is starting to sound like?"

Fallon's lips curve as she looks my way. "Sounds like we've got ourselves a cult."