Chapter 8

chapter

eight

The Mad DogPub was packed, as usual. Business had picked up a lot since that whole mess with Rose Rawlings and the white supremacists who tried to take her bar. The uptick had probably started with morbid curiosity as people wanted to visit the only place in town that had experienced a drive-by shooting. But then everyone started to realize what Cal had known all along—the beer was good, and the food was better.

Rose always had a smile for everyone who walked in, even when the place was packed, and today was no different. When the bell over the door chimed, she glanced over from the taps behind the bar, where she was filling several tall glasses with ale.

"Hey, Cal. Your usual table is open."

"Thanks. Ellie's meeting me."

Rose's smile widened. "Oh, really? Have you two finally kissed and made up?"

I wish. "Strictly professional, I'm afraid."

She clucked her tongue. "That's too bad. Well, I'll send her over when she gets here. Want your usual?"

"That'd be great. I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Holden."

That was true, but mainly because he often forgot to eat while at work. He crossed the room and slid into the booth that had become "his" over the last few years. He'd spent as many hours working in this booth as he did in his office. It was where he met friends for drinks and sometimes clients. It was where he and Ellie had their first date.

He liked the comfortable familiarity of it.

Rose came by a moment later with his stout. He nursed the dark beer while he opened his briefcase and flipped through the file he'd compiled on Hope's disappearance. It was sadly thin. After a year of investigating, he thought he'd have more to show for it.

The only new information he'd found in months was the girl. Her picture lay right on top, and he picked it up, studied it. Now that he knew she was Ellie's niece, he could see the resemblance. Same face shape. Same cute button nose. And they both had curly hair, though the girl's curls were dark and much looser than Ellie's tight blond ringlets.

He set the picture down just as Ellie slid into the seat across from him. As always when he saw her, his heart did a little boogie in his chest. "Hi. You made it."

"Hey." She looked at him over the rim of her glasses, and he was momentarily struck by how damn pretty her blue eyes were. They constantly changed shades. Sometimes, they were dark like a lake at sunrise, and other times, they were light and clear like the midday sky. Today, they were a stormy mix of the two, emotion swirling in their depths.

She nervously twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "You're looking at me like I'm a puzzle you're trying to solve."

You are.

He shrugged, suppressing the feelings that always fluttered in his stomach when she was near. It was a battle he constantly lost.

After a moment, when he did respond verbally, she broke eye contact and unzipped her bag, pulling out the thick binder she'd had with her earlier. "I did some more research…"

He grinned at that. Of course she had. Research was her life. "Find anything new?"

"Maybe. Look at this." She shifted the binder to open it and pointed at a printed photo. It was of the girl—maybe five years younger—in the same white robe, but it was a group photo this time. There were about twenty people, all wearing the same flowing garments, their faces varying degrees of serene and stoic. They stood before an old but well-kept house nestled among towering redwood trees. "I found it in a Reddit thread about escaping cults. The user who posted it didn't respond when I asked about the picture."

Before Cal could comment, Rose appeared at their booth with another mug of beer for him, a glass of white wine for Ellie, and a plate of nachos piled high.

"You're mostly through that one, Cal," she said, nodding at his half-empty pint. "Thought you might want a top-up."

"Thanks," he replied, sliding his original glass toward her.

But her attention had already moved on to the picture on the table between them. Something in her eyes had Cal sitting up straighter. He held up the photo. "Do you recognize these people?"

Rose hesitated a beat. "Not the people specifically, but they're all from the commune."

Both Cal and Ellie stared at her.

"What commune?" Cal asked.

"The one on the mountain. My parents and I lived there for a while when I was a kid, but I guess they started getting weird vibes, so we left."

Ellie frowned. "What kind of weird vibes?"

"I don't know. I was only five or six when we left, but I do remember those robes." She hitched a chin toward the kitchen. "My dad's here today working the kitchen. I can ask if he's willing to come out and talk about it if you want."

"We'd appreciate that," Cal said. As Rose started to turn away, his conscience got the better of him, and he added, "You should know your husband warned us away from this."

She glanced back and lifted an eyebrow. "Did he?"

"Thought you should know before you got involved. I don't want to cause any problems between you."

Rose scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Aw, don't worry about us. Fighting is our love language. If Mr. Grumpy has a problem with me talking to you, he'll get over it. Eventually."

Ellie gave a soft chuckle, toying with the glass Rose had just placed before her. "I wish I could be more like her," she said more to herself than anyone else. "Not caring what others think."

Cal turned his gaze to Ellie, her glasses reflecting the pub's dim light. He reached out to touch her hand, still wrapped around the glass. She looked surprised but didn't pull away, which he took as a sign she was softening toward him again.

Progress.

"You're perfect just as you are."

She avoided his eyes, focusing on the melting ice cubes in her drink. "This is strictly professional," she reminded and drew her hand away from his.

Fuck.

He smothered a flare of annoyance with a long drink of his beer. With her, it was always one step forward, two steps back.

A few minutes passed in awkward silence before a man appeared at their table. Pete Galasso. He looked every bit the aging hippie he was. He wore a tie-dye T-shirt under his apron and had his long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail under a hair net. His eyes were kind, albeit wary beneath bushy brows. He pulled the hairnet off and took a seat next to Cal.

"Hey, Pete," Cal said.

Pete nodded a polite hello even though apprehension filled his eyes. "So my Wildflower says you're looking into the commune on the mountain? What do you want to know?"

"We think my sister Hope may have joined them at some point, probably around twenty years ago." Ellie pulled up a picture of Hope on her phone and showed it to him. He studied it carefully before shaking his head.

"Sorry, we left around that time. I don't recognize her."

Disappointment flickered over Ellie's face before she hid it. "She's been missing for all these years, and the commune is the first real lead we have. Whatever you can tell us about them will be helpful."

"I'll tell you what I remember. There were…" He trailed off and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "A lot of drugs involved in those days."

"Do you mind if I record our conversation?"

"No, not at all."

She took her phone back, opened a recording app, and set it in the middle of the table.

Pete glanced at the device, then blinked and leaned back in his seat. "Well, where do I start?"

"Let's start with the basics. What was the commune called?" Ellie asked, adjusting her glasses as she looked at Pete.

God, she was sexy when she went into podcaster mode.

And that was not an appropriate thought right now.

"When we were there," Pete began, "they called themselves The Free People. We thought it was perfect—my wife, Harmony, and I were young and idealistic with a baby girl that we didn't want to raise in a greedy capitalist society. We were looking for community and spiritual enlightenment. The People taught that shunning the trappings of modern society allowed you to live closer to nature as God intended. And it was so peaceful at first. Communal living, self-sustainability. They even had their own schooling system." He frowned. "But a few years in, things began to change."

"What kind of changes?" Cal asked.

"It was subtle at first. New rules and obedience to those rules became paramount. Our contact with family and friends outside the commune became severely limited, which had never been a problem before. Nobody cared if you wanted to go into town, but suddenly, leaving the commune became almost taboo. We had these communal confession sessions that I thought were so freeing, but then they started to feel like interrogations, public shaming. People were expected to confess their darkest secrets, and then the council would use it against them later as a means of control."

Ellie frowned. "How did they use the confessions to control people?"

Pete sighed, running a hand over his ponytail. "Well, for example, if you confessed that you missed your family on the outside, it would be seen as you being attached to the materialistic world. You'd be shamed for it and then made to do some atonement work."

"Atonement work?" Cal did not like the sounds of that.

Pete winced. "Physical labor mostly, breaking rocks or digging holes. They put up an eight-foot fence around the commune that way. Sometimes, depending on the severity of the infraction, the atonement could last for days on end with little food or water."

Ellie gave a small gasp. "That... that's inhumane."

Pete nodded sadly. "Yes. Yes, it was. And that was when I started seeing the writing on the wall. Our peaceful commune was starting to give Jonestown vibes, and I didn't want to be involved anymore, but it took Harmony a bit longer to come around." His gaze drifted over to his daughter as she laughed with their patrons at the bar. "It wasn't until Shepherd, the leader, started showing an inordinate amount of attention to our girl that Harmony finally saw it, too. We left that night. Moved back to town, eventually opened this pub…" He waved a hand to encompass the room. "And tried to forget about them."

Cal followed his gaze to Rose, and his stomach churned. "Any idea if Hope could have been brought in for… the same reason you mentioned?" He had to force the question out.

Pete's gaze was grave as he looked at Ellie. "It's possible. Shepherd had a thing for pretty young women."

Tears welled in Ellie's eyes, but she blinked them back. She put up a brave front, but Cal could see her trembling hands. He resisted the urge to reach out and wrap his hand over hers. She wouldn't accept the gesture. Not from him.

So, instead, he refocused on Pete. "Do you know if anyone tried to leave after things started to get bad? Is there anyone else we can talk to who might have seen Hope?"

Pete frowned. "There were more defectors, from what I heard, but they were few and far between. Shepherd had a way of making people fear the outside world—he called it the corrupting influence of capitalism and industrialization. His favorite saying was, "The more time spent outside the walls, the more corrupt the soul.' It was bullshit meant to keep people inside."

His voice grew faint and distant like he was lost in the memories. "You know, it sounds weird, but the hardest part wasn't leaving. It was adjusting back to normal life. By then, we'd lived in a constant state of fear for so long that small things—like going grocery shopping or watching TV—felt strange, almost unnatural."

He shook his head and seemed to come back to the present. "I know it don't make sense how folks get pulled into something like that, but they prey on the vulnerable, ya know? We were just searching for something, a place where we could belong and be free. But it turned out to be anything but. if your sister got involved and hasn't been seen since… I'm sorry to say you might never get her back. Their hold is that great."

Ellie was quiet for a moment, staring at the table with a hard set to her jaw. She was fighting back tears, trying to keep her emotions in check. She slid her file across the table and pulled out the print of the girl from the country store. She set it in front of Pete. "Can you tell me the significance of the robe and belt?"

Again, he studied the photo closely, his brows drawn together in concentration. "I'm sorry. The robes weren't really a thing when we were there. Shepherd wore a white one occasionally, but it was mostly for special occasions like weddings."

"Thank you, Pete," Ellie said. Her voice was soft and strained. "You've been incredibly helpful. I... we appreciate it."

"Wish I could do more," Pete replied solemnly as he slid out of the booth, his face lined with years of worry and regret.

"You've done enough. We know more than we did, and that helps."

Ellie gathered her things and got up from the table. Cal resisted the urge to tell her it would be okay. The truth was he didn't know that—they were dealing with potential cult activity, and there were far too many unknowns.

Which made him think of another question. "Hey, Pete?"

The older man paused. "Yeah?"

"You said the commune was called The Free People when you were there. Did they change their name?"

His eyes flickered to Ellie with something like shame before he nodded. "After I left, heard they started calling themselves Hope's Embrace."