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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Tides Hotel gleamed like a phosphorescent jewel against the night sky. Ultramodern and sleek, its glass facade reflected the moonlight in rippling patterns that mimicked the nearby Potomac. The architecture was all clean lines and sharp angles, a stark contrast to the Colonial and Victorian buildings that dominated most of King George County.

The front entrance was flanked by tall sculptural water features, creating a gentle rushing sound that greeted us as we walked in. The lobby soared three stories high with a ceiling made entirely of glass, allowing guests to stargaze from plush seating areas. A massive chandelier made of what looked like thousands of crystal teardrops hung from the center, catching the light and scattering it like rain.

“This place screams charge it to your expense account,” I said to Jack as we crossed the marble floor.

Despite the late hour, the lobby was immaculate, with not a cushion out of place.

Jack nodded toward a plainclothes deputy seated in a wingback chair near the entrance, pretending to read a newspaper. The man gave Jack an almost imperceptible nod in return.

“They didn’t waste any time,” I said quietly.

“Cole’s one of the few people I know who works as fast as I do,” Jack replied, guiding me toward the bar with a light touch at the small of my back.

The bar was called The Undertow, a nod to the hotel’s nautical theme. The space was dimly lit with blue accent lighting that created the illusion of being underwater. The back wall was a massive aquarium filled with exotic fish that drifted lazily behind the bartender. A live pianist played soft jazz in the corner, the music just loud enough to ensure private conversations remained private.

Despite being close to ten o’clock on a Sunday night, there were still a handful of patrons. A couple in casual ware sat closely at the bar, leaning into each other’s space. Two businessmen in expensive suits nursed whiskeys while discussing figures in low voices. A well-dressed woman sat alone at a high-top table near the window, staring into a glass of red wine.

And then there was Vivica Vasilios.

She sat in a round corner booth with her back to the wall, giving her a clear view of both the entrance and the windows overlooking the street. Even from a distance, it was evident why she’d once been crowned Miss Universe. Her beauty was timeless, the kind would turn heads in any room. Her platinum-blond hair was pulled back in a sleek chignon, accentuating high cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. She wore a simple black top and slacks and diamond studs in her ears.

I noticed a man at the bar stealing glances over his gin and tonic, but Vivica seemed oblivious, her attention focused on the door and the street beyond the windows. Her fingers drummed nervously on the table, and she kept checking her watch. A nearly untouched martini sat in front of her.

She spotted us almost immediately, her posture straightening as we approached. I could see relief flash across her face before it settled back into carefully composed neutrality.

“Sheriff Lawson,” she said, her Danish accent giving the words a musical lilt. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Ms. Vasilios,” Jack said, sliding into the booth across from her. I took the seat beside him. “This is Dr. Graves, our county coroner.”

“Yes, of course,” Vivica said, her ice-blue eyes meeting mine with surprising intensity. “You would have examined—” She hesitated. “Theo.”

Up close, I could see the fine lines of strain around her eyes and mouth. Her perfect complexion couldn’t quite hide the shadows of exhaustion beneath expertly applied makeup. Despite her beauty, there was a brittleness to her, like fine crystal on the verge of shattering.

“Your security detail arrived promptly,” she said, nodding toward the plainclothes deputy at the end of the bar. “There’s another one across the street. I saw him when I arrived.” Her eyes darted to the window. “I appreciate the precaution, though I’m not sure it will matter in the end.”

A server approached, and Jack ordered coffee for both of us. I noticed Vivica’s hands trembling slightly as she lifted her martini, taking the smallest of sips before setting it back down.

“You said you feel your life is in danger,” Jack said once the server had gone. “Why?”

Vivica’s gaze swept the room before returning to us. “Because I knew this would all catch up with Theo one day,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And now that he’s gone, there aren’t many people left who know the truth.”

“About New Dawn Fellowship?” I asked.

Her eyes widened fractionally. “You’ve been thorough in your investigation.”

“We’ve found the name, but not much else,” Jack said. “What can you tell us about them?”

Vivica’s shoulders tensed, and she glanced nervously at the window again. “Not here. We’re too exposed.”

“The men watching your back are good at their jobs,” Jack assured her.

She gave a brittle laugh. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with, Sheriff.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice further. “New Dawn isn’t just some cult in the woods. They have resources, connections. People in positions you wouldn’t believe.”

“Start at the beginning,” Jack said, his voice calm but insistent. “Tell us about your marriage to Theo.”

Vivica sat back slightly, considering his request. After a moment, she seemed to make a decision.

“We were young,” she began. “Well, I was young. Twenty-two when we married. Theo was a little older, but emotionally—” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “He was charming, handsome, wealthy. The son of an ambassador. It was like a fairy tale for a girl who’d grown up in modest circumstances in Copenhagen.”

Our coffee arrived, and Jack thanked the server before turning his attention back to Vivica.

“The first two years were good,” she continued. “We split our time between London and Greece. I was modeling, and Theo was supposedly learning the family business, though he mostly partied and spent money. He was immature, restless. Drank too much. Did drugs occasionally. He was always looking for something more exciting, more meaningful than diplomatic functions and society events.”

She traced the rim of her martini glass with one perfectly manicured finger. “The next couple of years of marriage weren’t as good. He partied hard, and the drugs bothered me. And then there was another woman. It was quite public in the tabloids. I told him I wouldn’t compete, and that he could either get help or we were finished.

“He was apologetic and said he had a business trip, and when he was back we would discuss options. He flew to the United States, and he simply didn’t come home.”

“Where was he going?” Jack asked.

“Florida supposedly,” she said. “To look at a home he wanted to buy, and he was checking on a hotel his grandfather had left him to oversee. He was supposed to meet with his attorney and board members to discuss investment opportunities. He was supposed to be gone two weeks.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I got a call from his father, Nicholas, and he told me not to worry. That Theo had called him and said he’d checked into rehab in Palm Beach. I was hurt, of course, that Theo didn’t call me directly. But at the same time I was relieved he was getting help. I wanted to be patient and supportive.”

“But something changed your mind,” Jack prompted.

“About a month after he disappeared, I started noticing strange things,” she said. “My personal items moved around in the London flat. My mail opened and then resealed. Cars following me when I went out. I thought I was being paranoid at first.”

She took another tiny sip of her martini, her hand steadier now as she launched into her story. “Then I started receiving phone calls. No one would speak when I answered, but I could hear breathing on the other end. I was terrified. I wanted to talk to Theo, to tell him what was happening.”

“So you contacted the rehab center,” I said.

Vivica nodded. “He’d been gone for months by this point, and I’d seen Nicholas and Cecelia at a family gathering. I casually mentioned how proud I was of Theo to Cecelia and led her to believe I knew what facility he was staying at. She let the name of the center slip—Serenity Valley in Palm Beach. I called them, thinking I could at least leave a message for Theo.” Her expression hardened. “They had never heard of Theodore Vasilios. He had never been a patient there.”

“That’s when you filed the missing person report?” Jack asked.

“Yes. The London police took the report, but they weren’t overly concerned. A wealthy man decides to leave his wife—not exactly uncommon in their experience.” Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “A week after I filed the report, I received a letter from Theo. He said he was fine, that he just needed space. That he’d made a mistake when marrying me. He hadn’t been ready and had other interests he wanted to pursue.”

“Did you believe it was from him?” I asked.

“It was his handwriting,” she said. “But something about it felt…off. Still, what could I do? He was an adult who had chosen to leave. So I filed for divorce.”

“And that’s when you discovered the properties he’d given away,” Jack said.

Vivica’s eyes narrowed. “You really have been thorough, Sheriff.” She nodded. “Yes. During the asset disclosure process, my attorney discovered that Theo had donated several valuable properties to an organization called New Dawn Fellowship. He had forged my signature on the transfer documents.”

“How did you respond?” I asked.

“My attorney filed a dispute, of course. These were jointly owned properties worth millions.” Her fingers began drumming on the table again. “Three days later, I received a visit from a law firm I’d never heard of, representing Theo. They offered me a settlement that was extremely generous. More than generous, actually. All of Theo’s liquid assets, plus family jewelry that had been left to him through his grandfather. In exchange, I would withdraw the dispute and sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

“That seems excessive for a routine divorce,” Jack observed.

“It was,” Vivica agreed. “Especially since he had no grounds since he was the one to abandon the marriage. I wanted to refuse—not because of the money, but because something felt wrong about the whole situation.” She swallowed hard. “Then my attorney’s office was broken into. His files were ransacked, but nothing was stolen except my case documents. The next day, he called to tell me he could no longer represent me. He sounded terrified.”

I exchanged a look with Jack. “What did you do?” I asked.

“What could I do? I took the deal.” Shame flickered across her face. “I was scared. I had no idea what I was dealing with, but I knew it was dangerous. The divorce was finalized quickly after that, and for a while, I thought it was over.”

Jack leaned forward. “When did you see Theo again?”

“Almost a year later,” she said. “He showed up at my apartment in London, unannounced. He looked…different. Thinner. More serious. He apologized for everything—for leaving, for the properties, for frightening me. He said he’d made a mistake getting involved with some people who had taken advantage of him, but that his father had helped him get out.”

“Did he mention New Dawn Fellowship?” Jack asked.

Vivica nodded, her eyes darting around the room again. “Not at first. It took years before he told me the full story. We…reconnected that night. He was different—more mature, more present. We began seeing each other again, secretly at first.”

“You became lovers again,” I said, neither a question nor a judgment.

“Yes,” she admitted. “For the past fifteen years. I never stopped loving him, despite everything. But I never trusted him enough to marry him again, either.” She gave a sad smile. “He understood. We had an arrangement that worked for both of us. I had my life in London, my career, my freedom. And Theo…well, Theo had his demons to manage.”

“Which brings us to Chloe Matthews,” Jack said. “What can you tell us about her?”

Vivica’s expression darkened. “That poor girl. I only met her a few times. Theo told me how they met—how she reminded him of himself in some ways.” She shook her head. “He was trying to help her.”

“Help her how?” I asked.

“She had escaped from New Dawn,” Vivica said, lowering her voice even further. “But she hadn’t paid the price to leave like Theo had.”

“Nicholas’s twelve million dollars,” Jack said.

Vivica’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know about that too? Yes. The price for leaving New Dawn is steep—financially and otherwise. Theo hadn’t turned thirty-five yet, so he hadn’t fully received his inheritance from his grandfather, so Nicholas paid for Theo’s freedom. But Chloe just ran. And they don’t let people leave, not without consequences.”

“What can you tell us about New Dawn Fellowship?” Jack asked. “What are they, exactly?”

Vivica glanced over her shoulder before answering. “On the surface, they’re a spiritual retreat center and self-improvement organization. They own property throughout Virginia and several other states. They recruit wealthy, influential people—or people with potential to be wealthy and influential. They promise enlightenment, purpose, truth.”

“And beneath the surface?” I asked.

“A criminal enterprise,” she said flatly. “Money laundering, blackmail, extortion. They isolate you from your family and friends, take control of your assets, make you dependent on them for everything. And once you’re in, the only way out is to pay—with money, with silence, sometimes with your life.”

“And the tattoos?” Jack asked.

Vivica unconsciously rubbed her foot against her ankle. “A mark of membership. The pattern represents their belief system—the points of enlightenment, they call it. Everyone who joins receives the mark. It’s supposed to be a reminder that you belong to them, body, soul and spirit.”

“Who leads this organization?” Jack asked.

“A man named Paul Prather,” Vivica said, a visible shudder running through her. “He makes David Koresh and Jim Jones look like Billy Graham. Charismatic, brilliant, utterly ruthless. He founded New Dawn thirty years ago after leaving another cult where he was second-in-command. Decided to start his own, more profitable version.”

“He’s operating here in the United States?” Jack asked.

“He was,” Vivica said. “Nicholas’s involvement alerted the State Department to the group, along with your FBI. Paul got wind that there was going to be an FBI raid on the compound, so he picked up and moved. He’s got several hundred followers. They all just left.”

“Where’d they go?” I asked.

“He bought an island,” Vivica said. “It’s not a US territory, and he moved the entire operation there.”

“And now they’re cleaning up loose ends,” I said. “Theo, Chloe, Max Ortega, Nicholas, Derek Rogan…”

“And I’m next,” Vivica said, her voice cracking slightly. “They’re eliminating anyone who knows too much, anyone who could expose them. I should never have come to the wedding. I should have stayed in London. But he asked me to be there. Needed my support. They were being married in name only, but marriage was the only way Chloe would have the protection of his family name.”

“You were okay with that?” I asked.

“My name is still Vasilios,” she said pridefully. “Our arrangement would have continued as it always had. She was just a child. He would never have pursued her sexually.”

“How did you know that Max and Nicholas were dead?” Jack asked, studying her carefully. “Those deaths haven’t been widely reported yet.”

Vivica’s eyes locked with his. “Because I still have the Vasilios name, and I have access to things most people don’t. And I noticed that I’ve been followed since yesterday afternoon, just like before.”

“Let me guess,” Jack said. “A black sedan?”

“Yes,” she said, curiously. “I hired a private security firm and they got me out of the city and I checked in here. Nicholas told me that I could use the family jet to take me home. He said they’d be staying for the funeral so wouldn’t need it right away.”

“You trusted Nicholas to make sure you made it home alive?”

“I trust the company I hired,” she said.

She nodded to the couple that I’d noticed before who only seemed to have eyes for each other. But I saw the woman glance at us out of her periphery.

“Though I do appreciate you sending extra protection,” she said. “I’m well covered. But I’m leaving first thing in the morning. That’s why I insisted on meeting tonight.”

“These contacts that you have available because of your name,” Jack said. “Can they help us identify who’s killing?”

“You’ll never pin Prather down,” she said.

“I don’t care about Prather,” Jack said. “If the FBI have a bead on him, he’s their problem. I care about who’s coming into my county and killing people.”

She sighed and looked down at the table. “They didn’t tell me specifics. They just confirmed what I already knew—that I was a target. But they mentioned Prather had sent soldiers after me to clean up loose ends.”

“Soldiers?” I asked.

“That’s what they call their enforcers,” Vivica explained. “Devoted members who handle the organization’s dirty work. They’re paired with apprentices—newer members who show potential for violence. It’s how they groom the next generation of soldiers. Prather says it’s for protection, because the world is jealous of the utopia he’s created. But it’s really just an excuse to enforce his will.”

A chill ran down my spine as I thought of the evidence pointing to the two shooters at each scene. The soldier and his apprentice.

“Do you know any names?” Jack asked. “Anyone specific who might be targeting former members?”

Vivica shook her head. “There’s nothing more I can tell you. Almost all the information I have is because Theo shared with me. I need to go and get packed. I’m leaving at dawn.”

“We could put you in a safe house,” Jack said. “Keep you out of sight until they’re caught.”

“I’ll feel better once I put an ocean between us. No one is safe from New Dawn once they’ve decided you’re a liability,” Vivica said, gathering her small clutch purse. “Not even you, Sheriff. Especially not now that I’ve told you all this.”

“Indulge me,” he said. “Let my deputies escort you back to your room. And stay there until morning. Don’t open the door for anyone but us.”

Vivica hesitated, then nodded. “All right. But I’m still leaving on that plane tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Jack agreed. “I’ll feel a lot better if it’s my guys who see you onto the plane. You might trust the firm you hired, but I don’t.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, letting out a shaky sigh.

Jack signaled to the deputy at the bar, who discreetly rose and positioned himself near the exit. And then we watched her walk away, spine stiff and shoulders straight, daring anyone to take her down.

“You think she’s hiding something?” I asked.

“I think she’s terrified,” he replied. “And people who are terrified rarely tell the whole truth. They keep pieces back—leverage, escape routes, contingency plans.”

“Emmett Parker,” I said. “If everything she said is true then he could be in imminent danger. Chloe could have confided in him.”

“We’ve got men on him,” Jack said, but he picked up his phone. “But I’ll get a deputy to knock on his door. Maybe they can talk him into going to a safe house.”

“I’d feel a lot better if he did,” I said, watching Jack’s face as he was transferred by dispatch to the officers watching Emmett Parker’s apartment building.

The longer Jack listened, the more his expression darkened. I saw the minute clenching of his jaw and the tightening around his eyes that told me something was very wrong.

“What is it?” I asked when he finally lowered the phone. “What happened?”

Jack’s eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of cold fury there. “Emmett is gone. They were just about to call me when dispatch connected us. One of the deputies found his apartment door open. There were signs of a struggle—overturned furniture, broken glass. Emmett was nowhere to be found.”

“How’d he get out?” I asked, my stomach dropping. “I thought you had people watching the building.”

“Plank was one of the first responding deputies set up around the perimeter. He and Chen had the front and back door of Emmett’s ground floor apartment covered,” Jack explained, his voice tight with controlled anger. “Plank said they had phone communication with Emmett when they first arrived, so they didn’t physically check to see if he was inside the apartment. He thinks Emmett must have taken that last call under duress, that someone had already taken him.”

“He could be dead already,” I said softly, the image of Max Ortega’s exploding skull flashing unbidden through my mind.

I saw the anger in Jack’s eyes deepen, his fist clenched so tight his knuckles were white. The muscle in his jaw jumped with tension.

“I know,” he said, his voice deadly calm—the kind of calm that preceded a storm. “But we’re not going to give up on him yet.”