Chapter 22

"I am so tired right now."

Hawthorne smiled as Rebekah plopped onto his sofa, flinging an arm dramatically out to one side as the other hand covered her eyes.

"Not a morning person?"

A moan was his only response.

"Would coffee or a cinnamon roll help?"

"Yes." She dropped her hand but kept her eyes closed and her head resting on the sofa cushion she'd sunk into.

Hawthorne went to fill a mug for her and grabbed a cinnamon roll from the bakery box on the counter. Good thing he'd stopped by the bakery after his morning run. He dropped the roll onto a plate and carried the goodies to his sister, setting them on the coffee table in front of her. A dose of sugar and caffeine should do the trick.

He went to the armchair on the other side of the table and grabbed the roll and coffee mug he'd already set there for himself.

Rebekah slowly sat up, her gaze landing on the cinnamon roll. She dove for that first, taking a larger bite than he'd have expected from such a slim girl. "Mmm-hmmm." The sigh of pleasure escaped as she sank back into the cushions again.

Hawthorne chuckled.

"This is so good." She dragged her tired gaze up and blinked her blue eyes at him. "You're such a gentleman." The note of surprise in her tone probably should offend him.

Maybe she hadn't met many nice guys. The idea sparked a surge of something in his gut. Protectiveness?

He squashed the feeling. She didn't need an overbearing brother. She'd left the cult to be free, like he had. He wasn't going to steal that freedom from her.

After taking a few long drinks of the coffee and munching more of the cinnamon roll, Rebekah sat up straighter and started glancing around. Caffeine and sugar struck again. "Well, I guess you probably know why I'm here."

He smiled. "I can guess. You'd like to know my progress."

"Yes." She pressed her palms together in front of her chin. "So much."

He brought her up to speed on the investigating he'd done so far, leaving out anything that he feared might upset her too much. He also didn't comment on any of the interviews he related or information he'd uncovered. Better not to indicate any bias or give her false hopes before he was sure of all the facts.

She watched him intently, holding her emotions in and listening silently better than he'd thought she would.

He finished with the story of Dan Harris remembering a group of rowdy young men at the fair that night. Hawthorne added that he'd later talked to Barry Greer, the third security guard on duty that evening, who didn't recall anything unusual.

"You're starting to see it, aren't you?"

Hawthorne paused with the cinnamon roll halfway to his mouth. "See what?"

"That Sam was murdered. It wasn't an accident." Grave earnestness filled the eyes that leveled at him.

He lowered the roll to his plate. "I think foul play is a definite possibility."

She crossed her arms over the light cardigan that covered a blue tank top. "Why don't you want to admit it?"

"Because you asked me to investigate this and find out the truth. I can't do that if I go in with an already formed conclusion in my mind. I have to look at the facts objectively and see where the truth leads me."

Her chin puckered slightly, but she held his gaze. "Okay. Then where is the truth leading you now?"

"Unfortunately, it looks like it's leading me to Best Life."

Vertical lines bunched on her otherwise wrinkle-free brow. "You think BL had something to do with it?"

"Someone there may have."

"You'd go back?"

"If I have to. Sam's mother may have helpful information about that night and if anyone had reason to hurt Sam. She could know if he had friends outside the cult who match the description of the rowdy bunch at the fair."

Rebekah smirked. "She won't know that. Sam wouldn't have told her. It would've been breaking the rules."

"Well, did he tell you about staying in touch with anyone outside the cult?"

She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. "We had all the same friends since school was so small. There were a few kids in the grade above us who left when they graduated the year before us, and then a couple others from our class left when we did." She pressed her lips together and blinked, as if shooing away tears. "When I did."

Hawthorne stayed silent a moment. Giving her space. But it probably wouldn't do her any good to dwell on the loss. "Can you give me the names of the students who left the year ahead of you? Just the boys."

She shrugged. "Why not?" She set her empty plate on the coffee table and pulled out her smartphone from the large purse she'd set on the floor by the sofa. "I'll text them to you." She rapidly typed on her phone. "I checked with my friend inside, and she said Sam's mom still lives there." Rebekah looked up as she tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her. "Which I do not get at all. It's BL's fault."

Hawthorne nodded. She wasn't wrong. "Do you know what dwelling she's living in?"

Rebekah grabbed her phone again and tapped the screen. "Uh…Twenty-one twelve." She set the phone down. "One of the condos in the West Quarter, you know?"

"Yeah." He'd have to convey that information to Jazz so she could find it easily. "Did you confirm if Randall is still there? I want to follow up on that since you think he had a motive."

"Oh, good. Yeah, he still works in the gift shop." She leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her skinny knees below her shorts. "But they won't let you in. You know that, right?"

"I may have found a way around that. A friend of mine has agreed to go in and take the tour, pretending to be interested in joining Best Life."

"Really?" Her eyebrows crunched as her mouth formed a shape of disgust.

Her expression brought a smile to his lips. That and remembering Jazz's eagerness to play sleuth. "Really. She has reasons of her own she wants to investigate the cult, too."

"She?" Rebekah's eyes lit with a curiosity that triggered warning bells in Hawthorne's mind.

"A work colleague."

"Uh-huh." A grin sprang onto Rebekah's face as she grabbed the mug from the table. "And a very good friend, sounds like."

"A new friend. That's as far as it goes."

"I don't suppose you'd tell me if she was something more." Her smile slowly fell away as she looked down at her coffee. "Do you ever wonder what's happening with the others? Nathaniel and Mary?"

The sadness he'd felt increasingly lately pinched his chest. "Sometimes."

"I wonder if Nathaniel is married or what he's doing." She glanced up at Hawthorne, moisture glistening in her eyes. "I know Mary was engaged when I left. I think that's why she stayed. She's probably married now. Maybe has kids." A wistful, painful smile curved Rebekah's closed lips. "We could have a niece or nephew."

He'd never thought of that. The discomfort behind his ribs twisted a little more.

"I miss them, you know." Rebekah dropped her gaze to the cushion beside her as she ran her fingers in a winding pattern on the upholstery. "Mom and Dad."

Hawthorne's gut clenched as her voice echoed the pain he'd felt at the loss of his parents, the realization he might never see them again. He'd been too angry to feel it when he'd first left and joined the Marines. But four years later when he'd embarked on civilian life, sadness had crept in. A delayed grief.

He cleared his throat. "I know. That's only natural."

"Really?" She looked up at him, a tear tracking down her cheek. "It seems so silly. It's only been two years. And I'm the one who wanted to leave. But I really, really miss them." Her lips trembled. "Sorry." She swiped away the tear and took a deep breath.

He shook his head. "Don't apologize." He stood and went to the kitchen where he grabbed a box of tissues off the counter. He returned and held the box out to her.

A shaky laugh pushed out as she took the box. "Thanks."

"Nathaniel contacted me when he first got out." It was all Hawthorne could think to say to comfort her. He couldn't help her where their parents were concerned. It seemed they would never see the truth, never leave the prison they'd voluntarily moved their whole family into. "He was going into the military. He chose the Navy."

"You haven't heard from him since?"

"No." An uncomfortable mix of guilt and concern settled in Hawthorne's stomach as he sat in the armchair. Should that have worried him? No news could be good news. And the last thing he had wanted to do was crowd Nathaniel.

Hawthorne knew how amazing those first years of absolute freedom were after escaping the cult. He wouldn't have wanted to steal that experience from his younger brother. But Nathaniel had been out for…how many years now? Hawthorne quickly did the math in his head. Eleven.

Much longer than Hawthorne had realized. Maybe he should look Nathaniel up and see how he was doing.

"That's sad. I wonder if he's okay." Rebekah looked at Hawthorne with so much grief that she could have been their mom, staring at Hawthorne when he'd announced he was going to leave.

The similarity sent another spasm of pain through his chest. "I should see if I can find him."

Rebekah nodded. "That would be terrific. I'm really glad I found you. I wouldn't have known how to find you if you weren't a famous writer." She smiled, though not up to her usual bright standards. "I bet you were surprised to get a message from me through your website."

"To say the least." Hawthorne dredged up a smile, too. "But I was very glad."

"Really?" Her eyes widened, cautious hope flickering in them.

"Absolutely. I'm thankful God brought us together again."

She quirked her head. "You believe in God?"

"I do. I believe anything that's true. And there's no denying God is the ultimate Truth."

"Huh. Are you like a Christian?"

He smiled at her wording. "I'm a Christian, yes."

"I can't go there. Not after being taught lies and getting indoctrinated into a big spiritual con my whole life. The God thing is just like another big brainwash."

Hawthorne met her gaze. "I get why you'd think that. I was afraid of that, too. My skepticism kept me from believing in God for quite a while. But then a friend helped me see that because I was so alert to spotting lies, I'd be able to test everything about God and Jesus Christ. So I did. After I encountered the evidence, I couldn't deny God really exists, the Bible is true, and Jesus died for me and rose again to give me eternal life."

"I don't know. I hear other stuff in school. Everybody has a different truth." Rebekah shifted against the cushions and looked away, as if the topic was making her uncomfortable.

Probably enough of that for now. But since she was hurting emotionally, he'd leave her with one thought. "Let me just say this. That loneliness you're feeling, the grief of leaving our family behind because we had to—the only thing that has helped me with all of that has been my relationship with Jesus." Hawthorne caught her gaze in his and held it. "God is our perfect Father, Jesus is our truest Brother and Friend. He can fulfill all your needs and heal what needs to be healed."

Rebekah stared at him for a few seconds, a mass of thoughts seeming to cycle behind her eyes.

It was a lot to think about, he knew. Maybe he'd give her an out so she didn't feel pressured to make a decision about anything now. "I hate to cut this short, but I should get some writing in this morning."

"Okay." She nodded, a look of something like relief relaxing her features as she stood and gathered her things. "Oh." She spun toward him as she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "I was wondering…" She caught her lower lip with her teeth. "Would you maybe want to go see a movie Friday night?"

"You mean with you?"

"Yeah." She lifted her shoulders and glanced away. "Or we could do something else. Just hang out."

He opened his mouth, about to say yes. Then closed it. He wouldn't be doing her any favors if he became her crutch while she was vulnerable. She'd end up throwing away her freedom for closeness, for a relationship that could end up burdening and restricting her. She'd regret it later, when she found she'd given up some of the freedom she'd originally sought.

"It looks like I'm going to be working the late shift at the fair." At least that's what he'd managed to switch to for tonight, after he'd received Jazz's text about her change in schedule. "I don't think I'll be free."

"Okay, sure." She turned away, but not before he caught the disappointment in her eyes.

His stomach clenched as he followed her toward the front door. He didn't mean to make her feel badly. But she'd thank him later, when she'd gotten through the fragile, lonely phase and reached the point of cherishing the freedom she would still have if he didn't interfere.

She paused by the door and faced him again. "Did you warn her?"

He gave Rebekah a look that probably communicated his confusion.

"The friend you're sending into BL."

When she put it that way, it made him sound almost cowardly. Or uncaring. Like he was sending Jazz into a dangerous situation. "Warn her about what?"

"About the cult. The brainwashing. You don't think she'll get sucked in, do you?"

"No." The answer came quickly, even instinctively as he pictured Jazz, strong and independent. But doubt crept into his mind. "I think the people who fall for that want to in a way. They're looking for answers and help. She isn't like that."

Rebekah shrugged. "If you say so. I've seen some pretty smart people believe it anyway. There's something kind of weird and creepy there."

She looked away, her gaze seeming to stare beyond the painting on the wall near the door. Maybe at a distant memory. "It's like it feels dark all the time. Like something's watching or hanging on to you, and you don't know if it's human or something…else." She blinked and jumped her gaze back to Hawthorne. "But maybe it wasn't like that when you were there."

It had been exactly like that. Especially in the last year before he'd left. But he had never tried to put it into words like Rebekah had just done.

He'd forgotten that feeling. The darkness and suffocating sense of something evil at work. He shouldn't send Jazz into that environment.

"And if your friend's as cool as you say she is, she'll probably be able to handle it. I'd guess it's a lot easier to shake off if you only visit once."

Unless the sense of evil was a sign of actual danger, maybe even physical danger to anyone hostile. To someone trying to trick Patch or spy on the community.

No, he couldn't send Jazz into danger. He'd have to get ahold of her before the tour she planned to take this morning. He only hoped he wasn't too late.