Nate gave him the spiel about the Jazz game and Rachel applauded the way he’d provided enough information to seem truthful but resisted the urge to embellish. Too much information could get an operative in as much trouble as acting too secretive. That was the first thing they’d been taught in their human behavior and psychology classes—to look anyone they needed to fool in the eye and to keep whatever had to be said to a minimum.
“So you’re both from Utah?” Bart seemed eager to take over the questioning.
Nate pointed with his fork. “Rach is. I moved there when I was twelve. I grew up pouring cement with my uncle.”
Bart picked at his food, as if he wasn’t all that interested in eating. “What’d your father do?”
“He worked as a chiropractor until he retired a few months ago.”
Rachel knew this part was true; she remembered when Nate had had to leave a staff meeting early to make his father’s retirement party.
“How old is he?” Ethan asked, joining in again.
“What is he these days, Rach? Sixty-five?” He looked at her for confirmation, but being included in such a question almost made her laugh. She’d worked for Nate for six months but knew very little about his family. Like a lot of men, he loved them but talked about them only when there was a reason. From what she’d pieced together so far, he’d been raised in a middle-class home in Long Beach, where his family still lived, and he had grown up spending most of his time surfing. As a result his grades had suffered, so his dad had encouraged him to join the military because he was afraid his son would turn out to be a beach bum if he didn’t get some discipline in his life. Turned out Nate was plenty ambitious; he was just a late bloomer. Nate’s only sibling, a brother who was younger by seven or eight years, promised to give his parents far more trouble than Nate did. Randall had been going to SDU but was currently on suspension for his poor grades. Although Nate’s voice was filled with affection whenever Randall’s name came up, he usually called him a pain in the ass.
“Your dad just turned sixty-six,” Rachel supplied.
“That’s right.” Nate nodded at her response and talked on as if they’d been helping each other answer questions like this for as many years as he claimed they’d been together. “But the way that guy eats, he’ll probably last longer than me,” he added.
Rachel had heard Nate jokingly refer to his father as Jack Lalanne, Jr., so this was probably true, too. Like her, Nate relied on the familiar when he could. It was so much easier to remember.
“And your mother?” Ethan asked. “Is she interested in health food, too?”
Rachel got the impression that Ethan was truly interested; Bart, however, was trying to trip them up.
“She worked with my father as a massage therapist,” Nate said. “They ran the business together. When he retired and sold the practice, Mom stayed on, but in a limited capacity. She works ten or fifteen hours a week. Says she likes having the pocket change.”
“Any siblings?” Bart asked.
Growing uncomfortable with Bart’s level of interest in such specifics, Rachel searched for a way to change the subject, but Nate didn’t seem to be concerned. “Just one, a younger brother.”
Ethan offered them each more wine and poured it when they acquiesced. “What does he do?”
“Randy’s still in school,” Nate said. “He hopes to be a chiropractor like Dad.”
“But you chose cement.” Bart again.
“I was never that great a student. Working outdoors suits me better.”
“And what about you, Rachel? What’s your background?” Bart wanted to know.
Ethan turned expectantly, as though he was eager to hear her response, so Rachel gave a quick summary based on the rough sketch from the dossier—her family in Utah, her experience working in child care, her two years at a community college, her father’s job as a supermarket clerk. Then, to avoid Twenty Questions, she asked about the Introductory Meetings they held and how many visitors came from week to week, and when they tried to bring the conversation back to her, she put them on the defensive by mentioning Courtney Sinclair.
These people knew something about the missing girl. Nate would bet his life on it. From the moment Rachel mentioned that a girl who’d attended one of their meetings had gone missing, and that her parents were frantically searching for her, the room grew quiet.
“We’re aware of the situation, of course. It’s a real tragedy,” Ethan said, but he didn’t seem particularly sincere.
Bartholomew spoke up immediately afterward. “Courtney’s a nice young girl. She wanted to make her home here with us.”
Nate swallowed the food in his mouth. “She said that?”
“Yes. She came to a meeting and asked to stay for the Preparatory, or initiation,” he said, “but she wasn’t old enough. She needed her parents’ approval. She asked if I’d intercede for her, but that isn’t my place. We welcome all who would be happy here, but we don’t want trouble. I sent her home with a release form and—” he raised his bony shoulders “—she never came back.”
“That she’s gone missing is unfortunate, but not altogether surprising,” Ethan added. “Her parents probably said no, just as she expected, and she’s on her way to New York City or somewhere equally exciting to a young woman who’s an adventurer at heart.”
“How would she get there?” Nate asked. “Travel costs money.”
“Believe me, she’s very resourceful,” Bart said.
“She was willing to do almost anything to get away from her parents. And since she left, I can see why. They’re like other repressed Christians—afraid to experience the world for fear they’ll fall into the hands of the ‘devil,’ so afraid of him they actually become just like him.”
Nate found it ironic that Ethan, of all people, would say that. If his religion was like other religions, he, too, used the fear of hell to motivate his members. “So you think she’s still alive?”
“I have no reason to believe otherwise.” He closed his eyes and chewed with greater relish. “We must remember to thank Sister Maxine for this delicious meal. She has outdone herself, has she not?”
Just about every man there nodded and mumbled agreement. But Rachel ignored the change of topic and drew Ethan right back to Courtney.
“Her parents are claiming you’ve kidnapped her.”