“Detective West, please calm down. I didn’t cause the bruises,” Isaac said, gesturing toward one of two leather chairs flanking the desk.
Mal took a deep breath. “Then who did?” He sat.
Isaac took the other chair. This close, the guy looked taller than he had in pictures. The brown eyes were even more charismatic, and long-limbed muscles showed beneath his linen clothing. “I’m assuming her husband, considering we found her outside of a woman’s shelter. We’ll get her food and clothing and safety if she wants it.”
That was one way to gain new members.
Mal tried to relax his jaw, remembering he’d supposedly been drunk outside a bar just a few hours ago. “Thank you for the food and shower. How do you know my name?”
“I’m Isaac Leon.” He held out a hand to shake. “We checked you out the other night, after you met April. Can’t be too careful who we invite home.”
Mal looked around. “Yeah. This is a nice place.” How long would the drugs take to leave his system? “Kind of seems like a touchy-feely type of group, though, and I’m really not into that.” He tried to sound properly apologetic.
Isaac nodded. “I completely understand. But I was hoping, maybe in exchange for the food and shower, you’d spend a couple of hours teaching some frightened young women like Mrs. Thomson a little self-defense? Maybe take your experience as a cop and do some good?”
“Ex-cop,” Mal said automatically. His weakness had been read instantly by an expert. Were those bruises on the woman and kid even real? Isaac had found the one thing that would’ve made him stick around.
If he was really being himself.
“Sure.” He shifted his weight. “I could help out a little for a couple of hours.”
Chapter Eighteen
Pippa couldn’t shake the restless feeling that had plagued her all day. Sipping a nice glass of Riesling as it neared ten at night, she read Malcolm’s second note to her. While she’d never admit it, she’d kept the first one in the file cabinet attached to her desk.
Pippa,
Sorry to leave so early, but I’ve been called to New York to deal with the shooting that just happened. I should only be gone for the day, and I’m sure the NYPD has found me a nice middle seat on a flight between two people who like to talk on planes. Which I do not. I’m digressing because I don’t know what else to say. Thank you for letting me stay the night and hold you. There’s a peace to be found around you that I haven’t known in a long time, even when I can’t sleep and the nightmares keep looming. Somehow, just having you there makes it better. I’ll try to bring dessert this time.
Yours,
M
She trusted him. That quickly, she realized the truth. Could she tell him everything? He wasn’t a cop any longer, but surely he believed in the law. Or could she just make this her truth? As far as she was concerned, she was Pippa Smith. The last two nights with Malcolm, that had been her. The real her. What did the past really matter?
Her phone buzzed, and she answered it. “Hey, Trixie. How are things?”
“They have a website,” Trixie said, her voice panicky. “With our pictures.”
Pippa dropped her glass and ran to the computer. She kept a continuous search going for her birth name as well as Trixie’s, and nothing had dinged. “What is it?”
“AnTeaghlaigh dot com,” Trixie said, her voice way too high.
“It’s okay. Just hold on.” Pippa typed the address and brought up the site. Nausea rolled through her. It was a pretty picture of a happy group of people “living off the land.” She selected “About Us,” and a full picture of Isaac came up on the screen.
Ice shot through her veins. Her skin itched. Bile rose in her throat, and she forced it back down. It was as if his eyes were looking directly at her like he used to. God. She clicked another link and was brought to a page talking about meditation, living off the land, and finding one’s true purpose in life. “Crap.”
“I know.” Trixie’s voice shook. “Click on ‘Help Us.’”
Pippa tried to swallow and clicked on the link. Her picture scrolled up with Trixie’s right under it. She read the caption out loud. “‘Please help us find our lost family members. Mary and Tulip unfortunately started taking drugs and are lost to us. If you see them, please contact us immediately. We are offering a ten-thousand-dollar reward.’”
“Ten grand.” Trixie chuckled, the sound full of pain. “Well. I guess the good news is that they didn’t turn us in to the cops. Yet.”
Pippa forced her lungs to keep working. “This is new. Why are they suddenly on the internet and looking for us like this?”
“Because they haven’t been able to find us any other way. You disappeared from Miami five years ago, and we’ve stayed off the grid since. They’re desperate.” Trixie’s voice sounded just as desperate. “And you know why.”
Yeah. Her birthday was in several days. Her twenty-fifth birthday—the special day foretold by the Bible that would elevate the family to the next plane. The ticking clock.
