"Fore!"
The shout came from somewhere beyond the tree line as Noah turned off Route 22 and followed the gravel drive toward the Westport Country Club. Manicured fairways rolled down toward the shore of Northwest Bay, the grass still holding its morning dew. A few early groups were already out in the sun with their carts and their polos.
Noah parked beside Callie's cruiser in the lot and they walked in together through the main entrance. The clubhouse was modest by country club standards, all dark wood and brass fixtures and framed photographs of tournaments nobody outside the county remembered. A young man behind the front desk told them Sue Braxton was working the bar and pointed them toward the back.
The bar was a long room with windows overlooking the course. Polished oak counter, leather stools, shelves of single malt arranged by region. Behind it, a woman in her mid-forties stood wiping down a row of tumblers with a linen cloth. She had large eyes under a fringe of dark hair and an apron streaked withfaint whiskey stains from a hundred pours. Her gaze snapped up the moment they walked in.
"Sue Braxton?" Noah asked.
"That's me."
"Noah Sutherland. State Investigator. This is Deputy Thorne, Adirondack County Sheriff."
The cloth stopped moving. Sue's eyes went from Noah's face to his badge to Callie and then to the exit behind her. Noah saw the calculation happen in real time, the fraction of a second where a person decides between staying and running, and he knew which way it was going to go before she moved.
She dropped the cloth and bolted.
She was fast. She cleared the bar in two strides, shoved through the service door and disappeared into the kitchen. Noah went after her. His senses took in the stainless steel counters, a startled line cook stepping sideways with a pan in his hand, the smell of bacon grease and toast. The back door was already swinging open, daylight flooding through it.
"Callie, front!" Noah shouted over his shoulder.
Callie was already gone, turning on her heel and sprinting back through the bar toward the main entrance.
Noah burst through the back door into a service area. Dumpsters, stacked crates, a concrete apron leading to a strip of grass that sloped down toward the first fairway. Sue was thirty yards ahead, running hard toward the tree line, her apron flying behind her.
He chased her across the grass. She was quick but she was running in work shoes on wet ground and the slope was against her. She made it to the edge of the fairway before Callie appeared from around the corner of the building at a full sprint, cutting the angle, closing the gap from the side.
Callie hit her at the waist. Both of them went down hard on the freshly mowed grass, rolling, Sue trying to twist free. Callie wrapped both arms around her midsection and held on.
"Stop struggling."
"Get off me!"
Noah reached them and dropped to one knee, helping Callie pin her arms. Sue fought for another few seconds, bucking and pulling, before the energy left her and she went still, breathing hard, her face pressed against the turf.
They sat her up on a nearby picnic table at the edge of the patio. A few curious golfers had stopped their carts on the fairway to watch, visors tilted, irons still in hand. One of them had his phone out.
"Did they send you?" Sue asked. Her voice was shaking. Not from the run.
"Who?" Noah asked.
The woman studied them, confused. Her eyes moved between their faces, searching for something she didn't find.
"Evelyn Cross directed me to you," Noah said. "She thought you might help us understand more about the Three Pillar Community."
The confusion held for a moment longer, then something in Sue's face collapsed. Not relief exactly. More like the slow deflation of a fear that had been wound so tight for so long that releasing it felt almost as bad as holding it. She let out a long breath.
"Why did you run?" Callie asked.
Sue brushed dirt and grass clippings from her shirt. She glanced back toward the clubhouse. "I'm probably going to get fired for this."
"Talk to us. Why did you run?"
"I've been harassed by the Three Pillar Community ever since I escaped. I've had to move three times because of them." Shepulled a pack of cigarettes from her apron pocket and lit one. Her hands were still trembling. "People think Scientology is bad. They don't know this group."
She took a drag and let the smoke drift over the fairway. "Is this about those bodies they found?"
"Maybe. What can you tell us?"
