"We've managed to identify five of the six bodies so far," Ray began. "All college age. Eighteen to twenty." He turned to Callie. "Any update on matching the women in the photos to the identified victims?"
"Nothing so far. We're trying to identify the second photographer from the night Fiona went missing. She matches the age profile of the others. We know she was at the Three Pillar Community farm the night of her disappearance. Garrett refuses to speak without a lawyer but denies anything beyond her boudoir work."
"And the father?" Ray asked.
"He still doesn't believe she's missing," Noah said. "Says it's common for her to take off. Fiona's mother did the same years ago. He figured she followed suit."
McKenzie spoke up. "We believe Tabitha and Garrett are protecting the photographer."
Maddie Sutherland leaned forward. "I need to address something. The blood found at the farm was pig's blood." She let that settle across the room. "Unless you have evidence that something criminal beyond the photography occurred on that property, you can't hold the Three Pillar Community members beyond twenty-four hours. The DA's office wants to focus on Tabitha and Garrett for now. Specifically, Garrett for taking photos of minors."
"And Garrett is still in custody?" Ray asked.
"For now," Callie replied. "But there's no connection so far between him and the dead women. Nothing in his files. Only Fiona Spence. That's not to say he's without suspicion. He pulled a knife on his ex-girlfriend, who happened to be under eighteen at the time. And those who know him say he tended to get quite friendly with the girls he photographed."
Ray nodded and capped the marker he'd been holding. "Keep me updated. The media is having a field day and I have themayor on my back. Bodies found. A religious community farm raided. Rumors are spreading. Let's get ahead of this."
The room broke apart. Chairs scraped. Officers filtered out, some in groups, some alone, all of them carrying a case that was growing faster than anyone could keep up with.
Noah stepped into the corridor and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was after and dialed.
It rang three times.
"Noah Sutherland." The voice on the other end was warm and unhurried. Evelyn Cross had spent a lifetime around dark things and had learned not to let them rush her. "Been a while. Last I heard you were on leave. Things okay?"
"Yeah. Look, Evelyn. Last time we chatted, you mentioned you were involved in a case back in the eighties. A satanic cult."
"The Riverside Murders."
"Right. You said you'd done research into religious groups. What do you know about the Three Pillar Community?"
There was a pause. Noah could hear her shifting, settling into the question the way she settled into everything, carefully.
"They're a tight-knit communal religious group. Started back in the seventies by a man named Clyde Spriggs. They claim to be restoring the original biblical church. Shared property, no personal wealth, members changing their names. Self-sustaining businesses. They run a deli, which they use for recruitment. Why do you ask?"
"Would you consider them a cult?"
She sucked in a breath and let it out. "They're known for having an iron-fisted elder who controls everything. Marriages, discipline, isolation from outsiders. They use rods on children and shun anyone who leaves. They protect members who are trying to flee abusive families, which sounds noble until you realize the community itself becomes the new cage." She pausedagain. "They come off as friendly. Community-minded. Almost like hippies. But when you dig a little deeper, it's all high-demand dependency and control."
"Any bad cases hit the news?"
"Plenty. Mostly from people who've escaped. They paint a picture of psychological lockdown and physical control behind closed doors."
"You know anyone locally who managed to get out?"
"Let me think." She set the phone down. Noah could hear her moving around, the sound of drawers opening, papers being shifted. She came back a minute later. "Sue Braxton." She read off an address in Westport. “She left the community about eight years ago. If you swing by, tell her I said hello."
Noah wrote the address on the back of a receipt from his pocket. "Thanks, Evelyn."
"Noah? Whatever this is about, be careful with these people. They don't like outsiders asking questions. And they like ex-members talking to outsiders even less."
He pocketed the phone and stood in the corridor for a moment. The building was quieting down around him. Through the window at the end of the hall, the parking lot was half empty, the sky overcast, Sunday morning settling over the town like a lid being lowered.
Sue Braxton. Westport.
He grabbed his keys and headed for the exit.
16
