Durable Goods Read online

  “I’m the best shot you have to find out if Kira’s there.”

  “You have no idea what you could be walking into.”

  “What other option is there? We have no evidence that would call for police involvement at this point and the only way to get it is to get inside. Of the three of us, I’m the one who can do that.”

  After a considerable amount of arguing, Griff agreed. “You have four days,” he said, “then I’m pulling you out, with or without Kira.”

  So here I was, a little over a week post vacation, in a beat up truck with Isaac Bennett, the founder of Oracles of the Kingdom. On my way to a working farm where I would retrieve my soul and get my life back on track by following the teachings of Jesus Christ. The oracles had to be recruited by Isaac, like Jesus selecting His apostles. I was now one of the chosen. My mission was to get in, look for Kira and get out. Four days, piece of cake, right?

  We’d driven about twenty minutes when Bennett made a right turn. From what I could tell we were in the Moosehead Lake region, not far from the Canadian Border. At first it looked like he was taking us head-on into a wall of evergreen trees, but just as I raised my arm to shield my face, a path about five feet wide appeared between two Blue Spruce and we continued forward on a logging road.

  “How the hell does anyone find this place?” I asked.

  “That’s the point,” Bennett said. “They don’t. I decide who comes in, not the other way around. Only those I deem worthy.”

  “Then I should consider myself lucky.”

  “Blessed.” He said. “I like to think of it as blessed.”

  I’d worked hard persuading Griff that I could pull this off. But now, rolling down this obscured dirt road beside Bennett, I heard Griff’s argument again…“You could end up way out of your league.” I wondered if he’d been right.

  We left the tree line behind us. The road widened and on either side of us the landscape opened. To my left, a small herd of Scottish Highlands stood pawing in a frozen pasture, hoping to get lucky. On the other side, an untouched layer of snow stretched for acres.

  “You can’t tell from looking at it, but that field feeds us year round. So do they.” He pointed to the cattle still worrying the ground.

  “Us?” I asked.

  “Those the Lord puts in my path. Like He did you today. He sends me the souls that need taking care of.”

  “I thought you said you decided who got in.”

  He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “We work together, the Lord and I. Did we make a mistake this time?”

  The warning in his eyes said I needed to backpedal fast. “I don’t think He makes mistakes.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Nicely put, sister.”

  We ascended a sharp rise in the road and a faded yellow farmhouse appeared ahead. A few green shudders hung askew and the roof sagged like the shoulders of someone weary of living.

  “Is that where the souls live?” I asked.

  “Oracles,” Bennett said. “We call ourselves Oracles of the Kingdom. The house is where I live and whoever I choose to keep me company, but that must be earned.”

  Something in his tone made my stomach shift.

  “Where do the rest live?” I asked.

  He took a left at the end of the pasture and pointed straight ahead. “Home sweet home,” he said and winked at me.

  He stopped the truck in front of a long low building resembling a dairy barn. Square windows about a foot wide lined the sides of the building, each one covered with iron bars in a tic-tac-toe pattern.

  “Go on in. Find yourself a bed. The women will be coming back soon for lunch.”

  I stepped out of the truck and reached for my backpack, but his hand was on it. “I’ll keep this,” he said.

  Griff and I had planned for that and put only a change of clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste and a dummy cell phone inside. The other one was strapped snuggly against my thigh. “My stuff’s in there. It’s all I have.”

  He shook his head while rifling through the bag. His hand came out with the cell phone tight in his grasp and a smile on his face. “Everything you need is here.” He gestured toward the building and pasture. “All you have to do is what I ask of you in Jesus’ name and you’ll want for nothing.”

  I stepped back from the truck and watched him pull away remembering Griff’s parting words. “I don’t like sending you down the rabbit hole alone,” he’d said.

  Something told me I’d just landed.

  The dormitory building held two rows of bunk beds, fifteen deep. Army style. Each bed was perfectly made, corners tucked and quarter ready. I flashed on my own double bed at home, rumpled blankets strewn with clothes in small heaps. There was one bedroom built into the corner of the room, closest to the door. It was Amish plain. One lone twin bed, a dresser and a nightstand were the only furniture, a lamp and a Bible, the only accessories. I walked down the center aisle of the barracks. The foot of each bed held a name sign, but none said Kira. The last set of bunks on the right side of the rectangular room had no name. I climbed onto the top one.

  I’d stashed the picture of Kira that John had given me underneath the insole of my shoe. I slipped it out now to memorize the face of a girl I’d met a handful of times and hadn’t seen in three years.

  I unfastened the cell phone from my thigh, got up and walked around the dormitory hoping for at least one bar. In the tiny, closet sized bathroom I got what I needed and texted Griff.

  I’m in. Turnoff on right 10 minutes @ 50 mph from market. Dirt path btwn 2 Blue Spruce. 1st bldg women’s dorm. cafeteria and barn on right. House straight ahead.

  We’d agreed on no in-coming calls under any circumstance. I would call out only if I had to, otherwise any messages would be sent by text and the fewer words the better. He needed the layout of the property so he’d know where to find me when the time came.

  The bathroom was relatively clean, obviously somebody’s daily job. Maybe I could make it mine since that was the only place with reception. There were two pedestal sinks side by side, each with green watermarks around the drain. One toilet to my right and two shower stalls beyond, both had clear, glass doors instead of curtains. No privacy. I felt around the pine floor for anything loose where I could hide the phone. No dice. Above me there was a light fixture and a grate for a ceiling fan that didn’t work. With one foot on the bathtub and one on the sink, I pried open the grate. Dust mites fell on my face and my fingertips slid over greasy residue, but that was all good. It meant no one bothered to clean the grate. I placed the photo of Kira and my cell inside and screwed it back in place. Back in the main room, I climbed onto the top bunk and waited for what would come next.

  The door opened jingling the chimes hanging above it, a rudimentary alarm. I sat up startled and jumped off my bed to see who’d come in. Ruth, the clerk from Bennett’s Market was closing the door behind her. I stepped into the center aisle. She looked at me for a moment as though trying to remember where she’d seen me before.

  “Sorry about the mess,” I said.

  She shrugged and walked toward the small bedroom, nylon wind pants swishing between her ample thighs.

  “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

  “All my life. Isaac’s my father.”

  I tried not to show my surprise. “Your mother live here too?” I asked. Ruth’s blocky build hadn’t come from him.

  She looked at me acknowledging the question, but didn’t answer. She bent forward and untied her work boots. The leather was dark from the damp ground outside. A couple of decaying leaves clung to the soles.

  “How come you don’t live in the house?” I asked.

  “I live here with the workers to provide leadership. You’re my responsibility.”

  “Leadership for what?”

  “It would be in your best interest not to ask so many questions. Be grateful that you’ve been taken from the masses and handpicked to be one of us. There’s no higher calling.” She sounded like a recording, no aff
ect, just repetition. She disappeared inside the bedroom and closed the door.

  The barracks’ door opened and again the bells, annoying as all hell, sounded the alarm. Ruth was immediately in her doorway.

  About thirty women filed in, their ages ranging from fifteen to forty, at a guess. At thirty-three, I was one of the elders. Though I still got carded in most bars, I wondered if age would hurt my chances of getting into Isaac’s house. The women were all dressed exactly the same in jeans, blue sweatshirts and work boots. Ruth nodded as each woman passed and they returned the gesture before seeking out their individual bunk. Home sweet home.

  Almost in unison, they lay on their beds, removed a Bible from under their pillows and began to read. I followed suit, feeling under my pillow and finding my own. The room was eerily silent. Satisfied, Ruth went back into her bedroom and closed the door.

  After a few minutes one woman got up and began making her way to the bathroom. Ruth’s door flew open, banging against the wall behind it.

  “What’re you doing?” She asked.

  The woman twirled around to face Ruth, obviously shaken. “I have to use the bathroom.”

  Ruth glanced at her watch. “Fifteen minutes. Get back in bed.”

  “But, I have to…”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Ruth said. “Move it.”

  The woman returned to her bed. Satisfied, Ruth closed her door.

  At twelve-thirty, Ruth appeared again and the women began going into the bathroom in twos. When each pair came out they left the barracks. Ruth approached my bed. I set down my Bible and looked at her.

  “Lunchtime,” she said. “Wash up and put these on.” She handed me a sweatshirt and jeans. “Then come to the cafeteria. Walk up the driveway. It’s on the right. You’ll see it.” She nodded to my watch, a gift from Griff. “I’ll take that.”

  “No,” I said. “You can’t have this.”

  “You have no need to know the time here. I’ll tell you what to do and when.”

  “It was a gift from my mother. She passed away recently.”

  “Material goods are unimportant. What is important is what we carry within us.” Ruth nodded again at the watch and held out an open palm.

  I placed the watch in her hand. “Will I get it back when I leave?”

  She smiled. “Wash your hands and go to lunch.”

  “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  She looked at me and waited.

  “Where are the men?”

  “What men?”

  “Don’t you need men for the cattle? For butchering?”

  “The cattle are sent out for slaughter. Occasionally Isaac hires day laborers to work the farmers’ markets in the summer.”

  “The women don’t go to market?”

  Ruth shook her head. “The women don’t leave the farm. They are here to put their lives back on track.”

  “And what happens once they’ve done that?”

  “They repay him for his generosity and love.”

  “How?”

  She nodded toward the door. “You’re going to be late. Isaac doesn’t like it if you’re late.”

  GRIFF

  Griff approached his SUV parked to the rear of Bennett’s Market, pulled open the door and slipped onto the driver’s seat.

  “How’d it go?” John asked.

  “No hitches.” Griff started the car then pulled out his phone and looked at it.

  “She’s not going to have a chance this soon.”

  “Just checking.”

  “Let’s pay Stebbins another visit,” John said. “Maybe he’ll feel like talking today.”

  “You gonna tell him about Kira this time?”

  “I think I have to. He was so evasive about Bennett before that I held back. Small towns this far north are like one big incestuous family. Everyone’s got each other’s backs. I was hoping not to tip our hand until we knew where Stebbins’ loyalties lie. Don’t think I have a choice now. We need him. But I don’t want him to know Britt’s inside.”

  They drove the two miles to the St. Bart Police Department over slushy, pitted asphalt long in need of repair.

  “Maine infrastructure,” John said breaking the silence. “Love it or leave it.”

  Griff pulled into the PD parking lot and cut the engine. He took out his cell phone and checked it again.

  “You’re gonna drive yourself crazy looking at it every five minutes.”

  He slipped it back inside his jacket pocket without answering.

  When they’d visited Stebbins with Britt three days ago the sheriff confirmed that Bennett owned Oracles of the Kingdom as well as the local convenience store, Bennett’s Market and shown them a one-page file. Nothing more than a mug shot and a brief report on disorderly conduct then brushed them off saying he had an appointment elsewhere and didn’t have time to talk. Today, Stebbins was seated at his desk when they entered. He stood and extended his hand to Griff. “Where’s your pretty little partner?”

  “Busy,” Griff said.

  John stepped forward. “Like we told you the other day, Sheriff, we’re looking for information on Oracles of the Kingdom.”

  Stebbins shook his head, looked down and studied his desk. “Not much to tell. It’s a working farm. Organic. Religious. ‘Bout a hundred acres or so, run by a bunch of tree hugging women.” He looked up and laughed. “Bennett owns that and the market. Why all the interest?”

  John shrugged. “I’m looking for someone. Thought it might be a possibility. Just women? There’s more to farming than sowing seeds and baking pies, isn’t there?”

  That drew another laugh from Stebbins.

  “What about the sweat and heavy machinery? Where does Bennett get the muscle?” John asked.

  “Hires migrants on occasion,” Stebbins said. “Least he used to, not sure if he still does. I don’t see much of the guy. Bennett mostly keeps to himself. Sells produce and meat at his store and at the local farmers’ market in summer. Harvests maple syrup in the springtime, Christmas trees in the fall, seems to do all right.”

  “We think there might be more going on there than you’re aware of Sheriff,” John said.

  Stebbins smile faded. “What’re you gettin’ at, Detective?”

  “Just what I said. “I’m not sure you have all the information about what Bennett’s doing in there.”

  “Look,” Stebbins’ folded his arms across his chest. “I went in there and talked with Bennett about a year ago when some farmers abutting his land started calling him crazy. I wandered around the place. Everything seemed legit, just a workin’ farm. Got himself a bunkhouse for the women. It’s clean. A barn and a kitchen, nothin’ aroused my suspicion that the place ain’t what it claims to be.”

  “Did you speak with any of the women?” Griff asked.

  Stebbins scratched his head. “You folks live a different life style down there in the big city. Up here, you don’t just walk onto someone’s property ‘cause it smells funny. People in St. Bart live here because they value their privacy and it’s my job to respect and protect. So Bennett might be a little odd. Thinks he’s God’s right hand man and all, but I can’t arrest him for that. Just cause a guy’s nuts, don’t make grounds for a warrant.”

  “You got directions to the place?” John asked.

  “You got a warrant?”

  John took a step back. “I’m just asking where the farm is. I’m not saying we’re going in.”

  “It’s up the road a ways. And that’s all I’m sayin’. Around here, you go snoopin’ onto someone’s property you’re likely to get your head blown off. And rightly so,” he added.

  John took a deep breath blew it out and looked Stebbins in the eye. “My daughter’s missing,” he said. “I have reason to believe she might be on Bennett’s farm.”

  Stebbins’ jaw twitched and he kept his gaze on John like he was sizing him up. He sniffed. “Got a picture?”

  John took one from his wallet and handed it to Stebbins. While he studied it, his shit-
eating grin stalled out. His eyes shifted from John to Griff then back to Kira’s smiling face. “You let me go talk to Bennett,” he said. “Some out of town cops come in he’ll get anxious. He knows me well enough. I’ll go see if he knows anything about your daughter.”

  John nodded. “Appreciate it.” He handed Stebbins his card. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “You headin’ back to the city?” Stebbins asked.

  “For now.”

  “What’d you think?” Griff asked once they were back in the SUV.

  “I don’t like him. Too much of a smartass.”

  “He lost his grin pretty fast when you handed him the picture.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Makes me wonder what Stebbins knows and what he’s not telling us.

  Two hours later on the drive back to Portland John’s phone rang. He ended the call after few words and turned to Griff. “Stebbins said Bennett’s never seen Kira. Said he’d keep her picture on his bulletin board in case she ever wanders through.”

  “He didn’t waste any time getting in touch with Bennett,” Griff said. “What’d you make of that?”

  “Not sure. But I doubt his hurry was for our benefit.

  “You think he’s warning Bennett?”

  “Could be.”

  Griff checked his cell phone. “She’s in,” he said.

  OK

  MONDAY

  The dining hall was a long low structure attached to the barn like an afterthought. It was set up cafeteria style and I took my place in line with the others. A skimpy, mid-winter salad was followed up with macaroni and cheese, hot dogs and chocolate chip cookies. Servers behind the aluminum tables scooped ample portions onto our plates. Evidently, the help didn’t qualify for the farm’s organic cuisine, but my Cheetos and Snickers had worn off long ago and my stomach said feed me.

  “Heard that.” The woman in front of me turned and smiled.

  “Guess I’m a little hungry.”

  “You’re new?”

  “This morning,” I said, looking into a face that was strikingly beautiful. Glancing around the room there wasn’t an ugly one among us. Lucky for Isaac, God sure knows how to pick ‘em.