“No.” The sooner she realized she had to work with him, the better. “I have a feeling a lot of people are going to die tomorrow if we don’t stop it. I can’t believe you’re okay with that.” He held his breath and then exhaled. Was she brainwashed or not? “Are you?”
“No,” she blurted out. “Never. I’d never want people to be hurt.”
“So tell me everything you know about Isaac’s plan,” Mal pressed, speeding up as they reached pavement.
The sound she made was a cross between a sigh and a groan. “I don’t know, Mal. Okay? Until about an hour ago, I hadn’t talked to Isaac in seven years. Whatever he has planned is beyond me. If you’d just let me go back there, I’ll find out for you.”
Wasn’t that kind of her? Mal dug deep for restraint. “I’ve spent a lot of time the last week or so with the family. Infiltrating the place.” How much did she believe about Isaac? “There’s something magical about the guy, I know. When he pressed his hands to my head for a minute, I swear I saw stars.”
She snorted. “That’s an old trick. Push on the optic nerves and people see flashes of light behind their eyelids.”
Yeah. Mal’s research had brought up the same facts. “What else?”
“Constant rhythmic music, common goals, group meditation, and drugs. If you were feeling anything mystical or godlike when you were there, you’ve been drugged.” Her voice was brittle. Pained. “I did plenty of research when I ran away at seventeen.”
A part of him hurt for the little girl she must’ve been. “Why did you run away?”
“Isaac and I were to be married on my eighteenth birthday,” she said bitterly. “I ran away the day before.”
Mal’s body ached, but he had to ask. “Did Isaac abuse you?”
She looked down at her knees. “Yes and no. I told you the truth when I said he’d never touched me. But he made me watch him with other people. Often when he was hurting them.”
Mal’s stomach revolted. Isaac should be put down like a rabid animal. He blinked to clear the fury. “I’m sorry, Pippa.” He had to stay calm now that he was finally getting her to talk. “Speaking of which, is that your real name?”
She swallowed, silent for several seconds.
He let her work it through in her mind. At the moment, she had no other option but to cooperate with him.
“It feels like my real name,” she whispered. “My dad called me Pipsqueak, so when I could actually choose a name for myself, that’s what I chose. I started out as Jennifer.”
Her sweetness flayed him. “Pippa fits you better,” he offered.
She just nodded and turned more fully toward him this time. “Isaac has Trixie.”
“I know,” Mal said.
She reared back. “You know? You know?” Her voice rose. “Then why are we driving away from the family?” She gasped in air. “You work with the police still, right? You’re a detective?”
“I’m with the Homeland Defense Department these days,” he said. “We’re investigating the cult.”
She leaned toward him. “Then you’re one of the good guys. Let’s go get Trixie.”
Extricating Trixie was going to be difficult, and Pippa only added more uncertainty to the situation. “As soon as I get you to a safe place, I’ll go back and find Trixie.” Hopefully. It made sense that Isaac would keep her alive to use as leverage with Pippa. “The second you arrive on scene, Trixie is probably dead.” And most likely with Pippa watching, if Isaac’s history was anything to go by.
Pippa shook her head. “That’s not right. We have to go back.”
“No.” He couldn’t be any clearer with her.
“Fine.” The sound of her seat belt unlatching reached him just as she jerked her door open.
He slammed on the brakes to decrease her chance of injury.
She jumped and rolled twice on the dirt shoulder of the road, stumbling to her feet and running for the forest.
He set the van in Park and dove over the console and out her door, hitting the ground hard and rolling much the same way she had. Rocks and dirt cut into his neck, but his jacket protected him over all. Rain smashed down on his face.
Leaping to his feet, he started in pursuit, his eyes adjusting to the darkness quickly.
