She reached for a stack of papers next to her on the sofa, rifled through them, and then handed us one. “Here’s the stupid flyer that started it all. I wish Mark and I had never gone to the HOA meeting that night. On the way home, he saw the flyer on a telephone pole—we were walking—and he grabbed it.”
I took the page and looked at it. The flyer had a picture of a meditating figure on it, with chakra points lit up. The flyer read:
Are you tired and burned out? Are you feeling a lack in your life? Join the Tetrachordian Temple. We’re a gentle group, open to all spiritual paths, and we focus on centering and balancing our lives through focus on inner peace, warmth, and acceptance of the divine rules of Aquarian celestial communication. Come visit our group for a an introductory session. The Tetrachordian Temple turns no one away who truly wants to learn and grow with us.
Something about the flyer made me nervous. “I don’t like this,” I said. “It’s full of jargon that tells you nothing.”
“Mark really responded to it. I just looked at the flyer and thought, nope, not my jam. But he seemed fascinated by it. He was always looking for new ways to meditate or expand his consciousness. You name it, he’s tried it—everything from tapping to transcendental meditation to kundalini yoga. He was always looking for something that he felt was missing, and nothing he tried ever quite brought him the peace he was seeking.” Wendy winced.
“What exactly do you think he’s looking for?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, I think it’s something hidden deep inside. I first thought maybe he was struggling with his sexuality, but that wasn’t it. And he did have a rough childhood. He was always bullied for being different. He never fit in with any group. He was always punished for being too hyperactive, too loud, too annoying. He should have been diagnosed with ADHD when he was young, but somehow, he fell through the cracks.”
“So his parents weren’t supportive?” Dante asked.
“No, they believed that if you just tried hard enough, you’d succeed. And if you didn’t, it was your fault—that you were lacking in something. I convinced him to go in for testing, and even though he got a proper diagnosis and medication, that kind of childhood programming can stick with you and leave lasting emotional scars.” Wendy sniffled, her eyes glistening. “I always tried to reinforce that he wasn’t broken, that he was a good person, but there’s a part of him that just can’t believe it. He always said he felt alone in a sea of people. Even around me, I guess.” She stared at her hands, worrying her lip.
I glanced at Dante. So many people were fucked up thanks to rough childhoods, and even if they thought they were free from trauma, it often burrowed just below the surface, disguised in unusual reactions to situations and people.
“Did you go with him?” Dante asked.
“That first night, but I never went again. The owner of the temple and his frontwoman gave me the creeps. To be honest, I felt like I recognized them—kind of. But I couldn’t figure out why. They made me so nervous, but Mark said he felt at ease with them, like they were old friends. And the oddest thing…when the guy started his presentation, I guess I just zoned out because I don’t remember any of what he said.”
“Can you pinpoint what gave you the creeps?” I asked.
“Just…something about them. They seemed off. They didn’t like me, that much I can tell you. I got a glare cold as ice from them during the meet-and-greet session, after the main presentation. It was so unnerving I was actually afraid to go back.” She shuddered.
“What were their names? Do you remember?” Dante asked, pen poised.
“Let me think,” Wendy said, frowning. After a moment she snapped her fingers. “Oh right, her name was Analee—I can’t remember the last name. And his name was Erik Stengale. Analee was cold, and aloof, but he was kind of skeezy. I can’t explain, but it was so strong that when he shook my hand, I wanted to find a bathroom and wash off the slime.”
“What did your husband think of them?” I asked.
Wendy sighed, staring at the glass in her hand. “As I said, he liked them. I can’t figure out why, but he actually liked them. He wanted to go back to a second meeting. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was so adamant. I thought maybe a second visit would be enough. So he went, but I stayed home. I wish I would have gone. I think they have something to do with this, but I can’t prove anything.”
We waited while she sipped her lemonade. After a moment, Dante asked, “So, you might say that Mark was the perfect target for someone preying on the emotionally vulnerable?”
Wendy nodded. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”
“When was the first meeting that he went to on his own?” I asked.
“I think I noted it down in my planner.” Wendy pulled a planner out of her tote bag that was on the floor next to her. She flipped back through the months. “Here it is—I wrote it down so I wouldn’t plan anything for us that night. It was April sixth, on a Sunday, at seven PM. When he came home that night, he seemed deep in thought, and he said he wanted to go back. My heart dropped, but if it made him happy, then I wanted him to explore it.”
“How often did he attend their meetings?” I watched her closely. So far, her body language was on par with what she’d been telling us.
“Two or three times a week. It started with two, but after a few weeks, Mark started attending every meeting he could. Some weeks it was three, some four. Eventually, all he would talk about was how excited he was to have found that group.”
That must have been upsetting,” Dante said.
“To be honest, I was a little jealous. They gave him something I obviously couldn’t. And it scared me,” she said.
“That’s understandable,” I said. “Did it cause issues?”
“Eventually,” she said, her eyes darkening. “Mark started refusing any other social engagements and it made me angry. He never wanted to do anything I wanted to after that. Everything was about the temple. I tried to be supportive. I asked him for specifics on what they did, bit he’d just mutter a bunch of catch phrases.”
“And that’s when you started having problems,” Dante said.
“Right.” She nodded. “We used to go out once a week together, and we had our TV night once a week. He started standing me up. He’d promise to be there—at the restaurant or he’d promise to be home on time. Then, at the last minute, he’d call to tell me there was an ‘emergency’ meeting going on.”
