“Will it upset them to meet me?”
“Because we’re together? A couple? In love?” he asked her, smiling. “I hope not, but their feelings won’t change anything. We all need to move forward.”
That was all Devon wanted, to move forward and with each day she put Jacob and the commune farther and farther behind her. She wanted a new life, this life. She loved the doctor’s office, loved Gabriella, the town, the beach, and most of all, Spencer. She had visions of one day being a real part of this Thunder Point family, being a family with Spencer and Austin.
School started and Austin was the new kid and friendless for about two hours after which Spencer’s house and the beach hosted new friends on bikes. The Tuesday after Labor Day school resumed in earnest. There would be no more holidays until Thanksgiving, but there would be football games. Two a week during most weeks. Devon had not been this excited about how she’d spend her time since she’d been in high school herself.
But before she could attend her first football game the first week in September, a dark-colored sedan pulled up in front of the clinic one morning. Two men wearing sports coats over knit shirts emerged and came inside.
“Devon McAllister?” one of them asked.
She felt her face lose color. She nodded fearfully. She was alone in the clinic.
The man who had asked her name pulled a thin wallet from his breast pocket. “Douglas Freeman, FBI. You’re going to have to come with us.”
Fourteen
“Why?” Devon asked weakly.
“We’d like to ask you some questions. There must be someone here who can cover for you.”
“Not today, I’m here alone, with the doctor’s cell number for emergencies.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and give him a call, Miss McAllister. Let him know that there’s been an emergency in your schedule and you’re going to be away from the office.”
“What is this about?”
“I think you know. We’d like to ask you about your last residence.”
“Will I be long?” she wanted to know, and helpless, she began to tremble. “Will I be back?”
“Possibly. Possibly not,” Douglas Freeman said.
Having seen the car parked in the street, Mac walked into the clinic, hoisting his gun belt as he entered. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Can I help?”
There was a lot of badge flashing, but Devon went to him instantly. “They’re taking me somewhere. They won’t say if I’ll be back. Mac, what about Mercy? What does this mean?”
“You can bring your daughter, Miss McAllister. She’ll be taken care of.”
“I don’t want her to be taken care of by strangers in a strange place!” She turned to Mac and whispered, “Are they putting me in jail?”
Mac took a deep, irritated breath. “Come on, you guys. Lighten up. If you just want to ask her questions, tell her where you’re taking her and when you’ll bring her back.” Then he looked at Devon and said, “They’re probably just taking you to an FBI Field Office or maybe a police department. You don’t have to go with them unless they arrest you, but if you want to cooperate with them, you should at least listen to their questions.” He gave the agents a brief glare. “They’re just trying to intimidate you.”
One of the agents glared back. “We don’t need your assistance, Deputy.”
“This woman is my friend and neighbor!” he snapped. “She came to me with information that I passed on to the sheriff, who I presume involved you, so stop acting like the goddamn Men in Black. Devon is kind and cooperative and responsible. Tell her how long you’ll need her today. And you’re welcome to use my office if that will help.”
“We have a location. And Miss McAllister will be brought back if she wants to come back.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to come back? My daughter is here!”
“All right, look—there’s no reason for all this anxiety. Tell me where to take her,” Mac said to the agents.
“This is our investigation, Deputy.”
“Understood. And I’m the law enforcement officer who brought you Devon’s information. If you want more information, she should be comfortable and feel safe in helping you. Where are we going?”
They exchanged looks. “Coquille sheriff’s department,” Douglas Freeman said.
“Well, that’s easy. I could have saved you some time. Excuse me.” He plucked his phone out of his pocket and called one of the deputies who worked for him. “Steve? I have business out of town. Can you cover the town? Thanks, I owe you one.” Then he called the dispatcher and signed out for Coquille, leaving Deputy Pritkus in charge.
Devon used her cell phone to call Scott. “Dr. Grant, I’m going to have to leave the office. Mac is taking me somewhere to be questioned about you-know-what. Can you make sure Mercy is with you or Gabriella? I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I’ll keep in touch. I’m planning to be back here as soon as possible. What should I do with the clinic?” And then she said “okay” a few times, a thank-you and disconnected.
“That wasn’t quite as cryptic as I would have liked,” one of the agents said.
“I’m getting that,” Devon replied. “I’m also getting that you get jollies out of frightening people, for which you should be docked pay.” She texted something quickly.
“And what’s that about?” he asked.
She finished, hit Send and turned her phone around. She had sent a text to Spencer. Going with the police to answer questions about the commune. Back later.
“Are you done notifying the public now?”
“I’m going to turn off the coffeepot and some of the lights and lock the door. I’m going to ride with Mac. I’m happy to help, but you guys just give me the creeps. I guess you never heard that story about honey versus vinegar.” And with that she walked to the back of the clinic to close it up.
* * *
“FBI is taking priority on this case,” Mac explained as he and Devon made the drive to Coquille. “And, just so you know, they can be very proprietary. It’s their case.”
“That’s been made perfectly clear,” Devon replied. “They better be a lot nicer to me or this isn’t going to go as well as they think. I don’t trust mean people, even if they have badges. After four years with Jacob, I could say especially if they have badges. He spent four years trying to convince us that anyone associated with the police or any government agency only existed to hurt honest, hardworking people. I knew that wasn’t true, but these guys kind of make me wonder...”
Devon continued, “I knew Jacob was a fraud...but he seemed a harmless fraud with plenty of good food on the table and a nice place for me to live in.”
“How did you know?”
“Aunt Mary, the woman who raised me, was devout. We went to church and bible study a lot. I’m not as religious as Mary was, but I know my scriptures. And Jacob didn’t.”
“Maybe his interpretation was intended just to meet his own needs,” Mac said. “Using religion and the bible to his advantage?”
“That is definitely true, but he was so far off the map, anyone who knows their bible would know he was just making stuff up. As time passed, I began to see he wasn’t so harmless. The women in that house—some of them became dependent on him and believed every word he uttered.”
“But you didn’t?”
“No, but I still didn’t have anywhere to go or any money or any driver’s license or anything. A couple of people just walked off while we were at the Farmers’ Market, but they didn’t leave children behind. I could’ve done that, but I would never leave my baby.” She shrugged. “I was stupid. I got myself into it.”
“You were hungry,” Mac said. “And scared.”
“The nights were cold back in Seattle,” she said softly.
She glanced at Mac out of the corner of her eye and saw his jaw pulse. It was quiet in the car for a while. Then Mac said, “Devon, that’s not going to happen again. You’re a part of the town. You have friends. You’ve been a friend. Tell the FBI what they want to know. That bastard has preyed on frightened young girls long enough.”
* * *
Devon was taken to a small interview room with a table and a few chairs...and a recording device. Her two agents, McGrump and McGlower, were there, of course. But she was relieved to be joined by a pleasant young woman, also a special agent, who asked most of the questions. Emma Haynes was her name.
The process was grueling. She had to go through every detail of how she was first introduced to Jacob and The Fellowship. Then she was asked about everything she knew of the background and personalities of every woman in the family. She had to describe the men, who had changed over four years—only one had been with Jacob the entire time Devon had been there and his name was Brody, big strong Brody, and he was mostly sullen and private and quiet.
Then she had to try to describe Jacob’s evolution from the man she’d originally met into an angrier, more paranoid man; a man who believed he had to protect his domain from outsiders and the invasion of government and their foolish laws and punitive taxation. There were many questions about the treatment of the women and children, even more questions about the growing of marijuana.
The interview went on for hours and Devon did her best to recall as much information as she could about every detail of life at the commune, including the little she knew about the actual grow-op.
“Can you remember how many times you were in Jacob’s house?”
“Four times. Within two months of my arrival.” Then followed a painful recounting of how she had been foolish enough to believe that Jacob loved her. She had listened to his grand plans and had believed every word.
The agents then turned the questioning to matters concerning the role of the women at the compound. Again, Devon was open and honest with the agents.
“Some of the women were more agreeable than others,” she told the agents. “Jacob never forced anyone to sleep with him, but he did belittle women who weren’t inclined, painted them as not very giving by nature. The only woman brave enough to argue with him or disagree with him was Reese—the oldest in our house. The only women to clean his house were Charlotte and Priscilla, and only when he was in his residence. When Mariah joined us and Jacob began to seduce her, Reese fought with him. But he overpowered her and it wasn’t long before Mariah was pregnant. Getting a woman pregnant thrilled him.”
“You must have hated him,” Emma said.
Devon laughed. “For a little while. Until he started to complain about how impossible his life sometimes seemed, managing a home full of women and children who were expected to be gentle and get along. We didn’t always get along. But we all had one thing in common—no other resources. Nowhere to go. More than hating him, I felt like such a failure, such a fool. I felt like I had nothing and no one except the women I lived with. I’d still be there if I hadn’t wanted a different kind of life for Mercy.”
“Tell us more about the barns where the marijuana was grown. Was it an acre? Quarter acre? Concealed? Did you have any contact with the plants or the transport or sale of the plants?”
She’d seen inside the buildings through open doors; she knew what it was but none of her duties had anything to do with it. That was mostly up to the men. The women tended the vegetable gardens, livestock, chickens, household chores and children.
She had to list the names of people she could remember leaving the family—there were quite a few over four years. But no women who had children while they were there were allowed to leave with their child. So they stayed.
Question after question, and the only one who cajoled pleasantly was the woman, Emma Haynes. She seemed to be just slightly older than Devon, maybe early thirties.