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22

South Fork, Colorado

Riley felt like a zombie.

She’d been sitting in a conference room with comfortable chairs, so it wasn’t all bad. A couple hours ago, someone had brought her a sandwich and water, which she ate mostly out of habit. She was allowed to go to the bathroom, she wasn’t in handcuffs, and they hadn’t arrested her. One of the officers even brought her some paper and pens when she asked. She would have preferred pencils, but he couldn’t find any. Still, the pens kept her mind occupied as she doodled on the notepad.

She’d thought about walking out to see what they would do, but Outside scared her more than the police right now. She didn’t know what Andrew might tell them about her. She also wanted to know what the police knew about Havenwood and Jane’s murder.

She didn’t think they knew about Thalia, and Jesse was her only link to Thalia. He could have something in his house to help track her aunt down, but if that were the case, then Havenwood would now have that information. Andrew and Donovan would run at the first opportunity. For all she knew, they’d already let Andrew leave and he was back in Fort Collins with Donovan, packing to disappear. She felt...stuck.

It was after six when the detective she’d seen in Ashland—Kara—came into the conference room with the large black FBI agent. She suppressed the jolt of panic and forced herself to breathe evenly.

It was hard to overcome a lifetime of indoctrination, but she was making progress.

Kara had probing blue eyes, sharp and focused, like she really seemed to see Riley. It unnerved her.

Riley turned to the other cop, but averted her eyes when she saw blood on his white shirt.

“Riley,” he said, “I’m Agent Harris, but you can call me Michael. We want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Informal. To get her to trust them.

She couldn’t trust anyone. But she needed to know what they knew.

They sat down across from her.

“Riley,” Kara said, looking her straight in the eye, “your friend Andrew tried to kill himself. We just got word from the hospital that he’s stable, but in critical condition. He lost a lot of blood.”

She stared in disbelief. Andrew? “Are you sure he did it to himself?” Could Calliope’s people have infiltrated the police station? Were they here, waiting for her to walk out?

Michael’s face was solemn. “He was alone in the bathroom and slit both arms from here to here.” He demonstrated by drawing a line with his finger from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. “Andrew told me to let him die. We did everything possible to stop the bleeding. I really hope he makes it.”

He sounded sincere.

Kara said, “He learned that his partner, Donovan Smith, had been killed. In the same way as your friend Jane. He told us about Havenwood.”

Riley stared, unblinking, shocked. Donovan was dead. Andrew talked about Havenwood? She shook her head. None of this could be happening.

“He told us that Havenwood is like a cult,” Kara said. “That he escaped, you escaped, the others. He also said that someone in the cult is hunting you down. We want to stop them. I think you do, too.”

Talking about Havenwood was forbidden. Thalia had beat that mantra into their heads after the escape.

“Never utter the word Havenwood . It doesn’t exist. You were born today. You didn’t exist before now. Understand? You are no one except who you make yourself to be. If you say a word, if Calliope thinks someone Outside is going to invade and shut down Havenwood, she will kill everyone there and they will be happy to die for her.”

They didn’t talk, but they didn’t forget. For three years Riley and Jane lived together in Ashland and not once did they mention Havenwood or anyone who lived there, even when they were alone together. And the rare moments they talked about a good memory, it was vague, a feeling more than a clear conversation.

“I miss fresh eggs every morning.”

“Remember the swim contest? That was so much fun.”

“Let’s go horseback riding—I miss it.”

Because like everything in the world, there was yin and yang. Darkness and light. Evil and good. Havenwood was no different.

“We can protect you,” Michael said.

Riley almost laughed. Protect her? Maybe. But when they learned the truth about Havenwood, would they want to? The things Calliope had done, things Riley did with her. And, mostly, what Riley didn’t do. They would see her as an aberration. They would burn Havenwood to the ground. It’s what Calliope had always told them would happen if outsiders came in.

Not everyone at Havenwood was evil. There were children. There were people who had been lied to and manipulated. They deserved to live. All Riley could give them now was her silence. How else could she help?

“You can’t,” she said, her voice rough. She drank some water, cleared her throat. “You can’t protect anyone from Havenwood.”

“Tell us about Jane,” Kara said. “You were good friends. She had a picture of you in her keepsake box. Also, a beautiful carved bird, a photo of a teenage boy, and a red poppy.”

Of course Jane kept Timmy’s picture and the bird he made her. The only memory she had of the first boy—the only boy—she loved.

“Why did she keep a red poppy? Do they mean something to Havenwood? Like a state flower?” Michael asked.

What could Riley do? Walk away? She felt so lost right now. Her friends were dead; Andrew had tried to kill himself. Calliope was killing everyone she had saved. She desperately wanted to stop her, but she didn’t know how.

Kara said, “Riley, you’ve clearly been through something at Havenwood. You might think no one can help you—you might believe that running is the only answer. But Chris ran and they killed him. Jane ran and they killed her. Donovan was killed this morning. They’re not going to stop. So either you sit there and remain silent. That is your right. Or you share what you know about Havenwood and let us get justice for the dead.”

Riley stared at the cop. “What if you can’t and everything gets worse?”

“It can’t get much worse,” Kara said bluntly. “They tortured your friend Jesse. They know where many of your friends are now. Help us, and we’ll do everything in our power to save them. Remain silent, and one by one, they will die. I think you know that.”

Riley bit her lip and whispered, “What about the innocent people at Havenwood?”

Michael said, “Kara and I have a team behind us of very smart, well-trained federal agents. We don’t want anyone else to die.”

Riley wanted to believe them. And maybe, deep down, she did. But mostly, she wanted information—she needed to know what they knew of Havenwood. She needed to find it. Because the only person who might be able to stop her mother was Riley herself.

“What do the red poppies mean?” Michael repeated.

“The poppies are Thalia’s flower. The day she decided to leave, wild poppies had bloomed everywhere in the Havenwood valley. She said it was a sign, that we’d know she came back for us when she left a poppy for us to find.”

“Who’s Thalia?” Michael asked.

“Thalia was the first to leave, but promised to come back for those who wanted to escape. When she left, she told me when I found a poppy under my pillow, to go to my grandmother’s grave and she’d take me away.” But she’d lied. She had left poppies for Riley, but only to help others escape. Thalia needed her on the inside. Now Riley hated the sight of the stupid flowers. “It became a kind of...well, I guess a form of communication. Whenever Thalia needed to talk to someone, she’d leave a red poppy with a note so we’d know it was her.”

The two cops exchanged glances again, and Riley knew they weren’t telling her something.

“What?” she asked, her stomach churning uneasily. Something was very wrong.

Kara didn’t answer her question directly. “There was a stack of laminated poppies in Chris Crossman’s house, the same kind we found in Jane’s box. It seemed odd.”

Riley nodded. “Everyone passed through Chris’s house. He would give us money, clothes, new identification, a background—just in case we needed it. Jesse created the identities, but Chris had them for us. He gave us a laminated poppy to remember where we came from, and to use if we needed to communicate.”

“Tell me more about Jane,” Kara said. “You and Jane left Havenwood together, correct?”

Riley nodded. “Jane was the best of all of us. She never let anything kill her spirit. She had an inner light that they couldn’t destroy, until they killed her.”

“Who are they?” Michael asked.

She shrugged. Who would Calliope send out to kill? Who did she trust enough to hunt down those fortunate enough to get out?

“I could guess, but I don’t know.”

“Start with this,” Kara said. “Where is Havenwood?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you mean it moves around? They relocated after you left?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I never left Havenwood until I was nineteen, and I’ve never been back. It’s somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, but I don’t know where or how to get there. I was born there and left in the middle of the night.” Riley paused, then said, “Andrew knows because he came to Havenwood in his teens. But the only road into the valley is monitored. They know when people are coming.”

“Someone must know how to get there.”

“Thalia.”

“What’s her full name?”

Riley shrugged. “I don’t know what name she uses. We only had first names at Havenwood.”

Kara glanced at Michael, as if they were silently communicating. Then Kara said, “Riley, I’m going to tell you what we know, and we need your help to fill in the holes. You may not know how to give directions to Havenwood, but you can help us find it and put an end to this.”

“I doubt it.”

“Jane wasn’t the only person who died ten days ago.”

Riley squeezed back tears. She didn’t think she had any left inside her, but suddenly, this was all so overwhelming.

“I know. Chris Crossman. After I saw you in Ashland, I went to Chris because he knows how to contact Thalia. They needed to know about Jane and I thought we could come up with a plan...but he wasn’t at his house, and I read online that he had been killed. I knew then that we were all in danger.”

Michael asked, “Do you know the other people who escaped?”

“I know everyone who left before me.” She didn’t know how much to tell them. Should she give them names? Should she explain the process?

“The more you tell us, the more we can help,” Kara said. “If you hold back, you’re not going to help anyone.”

Riley wanted to believe her. Maybe she was grasping at straws, but Andrew’s suicide attempt had really rattled her, almost as much as finding Jesse dead.

“I identified people in Havenwood who were ready to leave,” Riley said. “I brought them to the meeting spot, then Thalia took them to Chris, who gave them new identities and helped find them jobs, homes, anything they needed. He gave Jane and me money for our apartment and more than enough to live on. But I don’t know where anyone else is. I’d only been to Chris’s house, and the only reason I knew where Andrew and Donovan lived is because Chris told me.”

“So,” Kara said, “you stayed behind in Havenwood after Thalia left in order to help others escape.”

Riley nodded.

“For how long?”

“Eight years.”

“And no one there suspected you?” Kara asked.

She didn’t believe her. “I’m not lying.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Kara said, “but you helped people escape for eight years and no one thought it was you.”

“Calliope is my mother.”

“Calliope?” Michael said.

They didn’t know. Riley almost stopped talking. If they didn’t know about her mother, they didn’t know anything.

Yet, somehow, now that she’d started, she wanted to share. Where did she start?

“Yes. Calliope is my mom, the leader of Havenwood ever since my grandmother died. No one would suspect that I’d help anyone leave. Thalia knew that—that’s why she made me stay behind.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed as if she wanted to ask more questions, then Michael said, “How many people did you help?”

“Eleven people escaped in total,” Riley said without hesitating. “Thalia and Robert were the first, they left on their own, but I knew. I helped nine after they left. Including Chris.”

“Jane and Chris were not the only people killed,” Kara said. “When we mentioned Robert Benson, Andrew became agitated. And you just mentioned Robert. Who is he?”

Riley blinked rapidly. “Robert?” Her voice sounded like a squeak.

“Robert Benson was killed in the same manner as Jane and Chris. He has no background until he moved to Virginia eleven years ago.”

Riley swallowed uneasily, drank more water. “Do you have a picture?”

Kara pulled up her phone and a moment later showed Riley a photo. It was Robert. He was smiling and stood next to a woman who had kind eyes.

Riley took the phone and stared at the photo. “He...he looks happy.”

“By all accounts, he and his wife had a good life, a good marriage.” Kara took the phone back. “You know him.”

“He was one of my fathers.”

“One of your fathers? Like a priest? Or your dad?”

“A father. A leader. I mean, he could have been my biological dad, but we don’t care about that at Havenwood. I don’t know who my dad was. My mother had many companions. Marriage is an unnecessary societal creation. All the men wanted to make my mother happy. Robert left eleven years ago, with Thalia. And everything changed.”

How could she explain?

“Havenwood wasn’t always a prison. It used to be a wonderful place to live. My grandmother told me of all the violence and hate and greed and rush rush rush of society. My grandfather was killed and left her with a daughter to raise.” Riley paused. She had wondered over the last few years how much of what she had been told—by her grandmother, her mother, Thalia—was true, and what were lies.

“Anyway,” Riley continued, “she wanted a better life. Free of all unnecessary conventions. My grandmother had wonderful stories of how Havenwood started with two families, then four families, then more, who shared everything and worked together in cooperation and love.” Riley had often wished she had been born in her grandmother’s time, so she could have seen the best of Havenwood.

“And from all the stories, Havenwood was utopia. But like all utopias, it wasn’t real. Jane—” Riley closed her eyes. “Jane was my best friend. She had this faith I’ve never seen before. Havenwood is spiritual, not religious. There’s a difference,” she insisted, looking from Kara to Michael.

“There is,” Michael concurred.

“Jane had a Bible. She was never without it. She said once that all people sinned. That it was hard not to, but if you loved God, you could keep the commandments. I didn’t understand then, and while now I know what she meant, it’s bullshit. Because Jane is dead, and she was the best person I knew. But I’m alive. What’s fair in that?”

“You know,” Kara said conversationally, “my parents were con artists. They had me do things for their cons when I was growing up. When I was younger, I didn’t understand. When I got older, I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I did it anyway because I didn’t know better and I had no one to talk to. When I was a teenager, I wanted a better life. I didn’t want to cheat people anymore. My father was arrested and sent to prison, then my mother hooked up with an asshole boyfriend. I sabotaged one of their scams. Ended up living with my grandmother—one of those good people like Jane. She turned me around. You were raised in a world where you didn’t know better, and even when you did, you were young and didn’t see a way out.”

“But Jane never did anything wrong. She just said no and walked away. I should have, too.”

“Riley, I’m not a religious person,” Kara said, “but there’s this idea of forgiveness that I buy into. Starting with yourself. We need your help. If there is anyone else out there who left Havenwood, they are now targets. You can help save them.” Softly, Kara said, “Riley, if you were the one who died and Jane was sitting here right now, what would she do?”

Riley felt a weight lift from her. It was as if the answer was there all along, but Riley couldn’t see it until now. In that moment, she felt Jane’s hand on her shoulder and a peace came over her.

“My mother has run Havenwood ever since my grandmother died eleven years ago. And our imperfect but peaceful little society completely fell apart.”