The April sky greeted Clisty when she
finally awakened the next morning. She stretched until the tiny kinks that
stiffened her back gave up, let go and surrendered to her rhythmic twists. “Good
morning, day,” she said as she shifted her feet off the bed and onto the floor.
It would be an exciting day. She was confident that their research would find a
clue that would lead them to The Guardian and his Lady, or the devil and his
consort, which she thought was a much better description.
Even though she still wore her sleeping shorts and
oversized t-shirt, she was compelled to get at her quest. A splash of water on
her face and a tooth brush across her teeth, a habit she was unable to break no
matter how much she wanted to skip it on busy mornings, and she was ready to
open her laptop.
The familiar stream of coffee dripping into the pot on
the kitchen countertop was a welcome sound with an intoxication aroma. The
timer on the maker had been set the night before and now the fragrance was
filling her apartment with a heavenly perfume. She used the seconds it took for
her computer to boot-up to slip across the room and fill her cup. She was just
putting it down on the end table beside the couch when her cell phone rang.
“Hello,” she spoke into her smart phone, a little
annoyed by the interruption—annoyed until she heard Jake’s voice.
“Well, you’re up earlier than I imagined.”
“If you thought I was still asleep, why did you
call?” she teased.
“I’m at your mercy, My Lady. I have no come-back for
that question.” His voice was warm and creamy which prompted Clisty to remember
the whole milk in the refrigerator. She took her cup back to the open kitchen
and poured a little in her coffee.
“Have you been able to do any research on the location
of the Freedom Temple?” she asked while stirring the milk into her java. She
tried to make a fancy swirl on the top but decided that was a talent better
left to coffee shop artists.
“No, not I.” Jason’s voice dropped off with a sigh. “The
Captain has me working on the bank robbery case. We want to make sure we can
charge our man, Melvin Dean Fargo, with armed robbery in addition to kidnapping
and Criminal Confinement. Rhodes is searching old files first. Then, he’ll hit
the computer.”
“Okay, Jake. If I have a question I’ll call the
station and talk to Jeremy.”
“Jeremy? You two on a first name basis now?” His
voice was light and digging.
“Yes, Jeremy and I go way back ... almost a week now.”
She laughed and picked up her cup.
“It’s not too early for your coffee, I hear by the
sipping sound.” Jake said. “I’m sitting here at my desk, doodling coffee cups on
a post-a-note. Now, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking of Faith’s eyes, so
sad, so empty and alone.” He stopped. “Well, maybe not. She does seem to be
stronger every time I see her.” He paused, “How about ... I meet you for an early
lunch, about 11:30? Maybe ... that new place we saw over near Jefferson Point
Mall.”
“That sounds wonderful.” She placed her cup on the
end table and smiled. There was a light layer of dust on the dark wood, not a
lot, but … it was there. The more amazing point was … Clisty didn’t
care—not a whit. With the tip of her finger, she drew
a happy face and laughed.
“You sound happy.” Jake had a smile in his voice.
“I am.” Her finger drew a curled mustache on her
artistic dust-face. “I think I have just conquered an old fear,” she shouted
with glee and turned her attention to the research du-jour. She ran her finger
over the mouse pad and logged on. “I’ll tell you what I find at lunch. See you
there.”
They said their goodbyes as Clisty turned to her
glowing screen. First, she typed in Melvin Dean Fargo. One site listed his age,
fifty-seven; towns he had lived in, Fort Wayne, Indiana, Chicago, Illinois, and
a couple of small towns in Tennessee; where he worked, where he studied and
people to whom he was related.
“Chicago,” she spoke into the empty apartment. “Okay,
not west of Chicago, as Darla’s driver/ kidnapper had said.”
“What about schools in Wheaton and Naperville,” she
continued to talk aloud as she changed her search input information along
another line. She quickly came upon each of the elementary schools in the two
towns, their addresses and phone numbers. She jotted down the names in Wheaton and
contact information. Next, she typed in research parameters for elementary
schools in Naperville. Each primary school was identified and their “contact
us” data as well. After writing it all down on a small note pad, she picked up
her cell phone. She began a “rule out” search, by calling each school, in the
order she had written the data.
Using a methodic research method, she wrote out a
short script so she was sure to ask the same questions of each school.
• She would introduce herself and the TV station she represents.
• Her next question would be; was a student, by the name of
Pooky Jones, enrolled there recently?
• Then, she would ask if the school had a mascot.
• Finally, she would find out if there is a church, named
the Freedom Temple, anywhere in the area.
She got through the first two Wheaton schools with no
success. Now, the phone was ringing at the third. She introduced herself and
then asked her first question.
“I’m sorry Ma’am. We do not give out the name of our
students over the phone. If you want to bring in a written request, our
principal may release that information since you said the child no longer
attends here.” The school secretary sounded sympathetic but could not bend the
rules.
“Does the school have a mascot? Or, can you give me the
mascot of the high school?”
“Wheaton North’s mascot is the Falcons. Wheaton
Warrenville South’s mascot is the Tiger.”
That doesn’t
line up, she thought. Then she asked, “Is there a church called the Freedom Temple in your
area?” She held her breathe.
“I wouldn’t call the Freedom Temple a church,” the
secretary drew out.
“So there is an organization called the Freedom
Temple in Wheaton?” Clisty wondered if she had heard correctly.
“No, it’s not here. A group by that name has been in
the news from time to time.”
“The news?” Why
didn’t I research that so-called church first?
“There have been newspaper and TV stories about several
people, I think two women and a man, who told police they had wanted to leave
the church and they were told they couldn’t.” The secretary talked in hushed
tones, like someone would if they were sharing gossip.
“Do you know why they couldn’t just ignore whoever
told them? What was their name, the person who told them they couldn’t stop
attending the church?”
“The Guardian. He is called, The Guardian. He manages
to have all his followers sign over their home, their bank accounts, even their
retirement investments to the Freedom Temple. If they quit attending the
church, they forfeit everything.”
“And you said the Freedom Temple is there in Wheaton?
Where exactly?” Clisty had her pen poised to write it all down.
“No, not here. It’s someplace south of Wheaton. They
are very secretive. They’re out in the country on many acres, and back off the
road.” She spoke to someone in the office and then returned to the
conversation. “That’s really all I know and the principal needs me to look for
a file. I hope that helps you,” she said.
“That’s a great help, thanks,” Clisty touched the
screen on her phone and ended the call. “That helps a lot,” she talked to
herself as she dialed the number of the first Naperville school. A computer
generated map of that area of Illinois showed that Naperville lies in two
counties. The northern part is in DuPage County, which allowed her to identify
the northern edge of the school system and a probable school, positioned “south
of Wheaton.”
“Hello,” a male voice at the school answered.
“This is Clisty Sinclair. I’m a news anchor with
WFT-TV in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”
“Good to talk to you, Miss Sinclair. I’m Roger
Mitchel, the Principal here. What can I do for you?”
“I’m researching a story that appears to have a
connection in your area. First, do you know if there is a church called, the Freedom
Temple in your area?”
“Yes, there is a group ... no one knows much about
them. Their church is far off the road in a very remote, rural setting.”
Principal Mitchel also whispered into the telephone receiver. His muffled words
sounded like he had cupped his hand around the mouth portion for privacy. “Their
teachings are very different from those in our area. Their leader is both
charismatic and controlling. As long as you obey his every command, including
turning over all your money, property, everything, to The Guardian, you’ll stay
on his good side. If you refuse, he can get really mean. I’m sorry, but I think
it’s a cult.”
“I have suspected the same thing,” Clisty agreed. “I’m
also asking the schools I contact what the school mascot is in their area.”
“Mascot? Sure, we’re Huskies up here,” he said with
pride.
“Big dogs,” Clisty thought out loud.
“That’s right. I guess we’re all big dogs,” he
chuckled as he spoke.
“Now a question that may go beyond the bounds of
confidentiality,” she crossed her fingers as she asked. “I need to ask about a
child who attended there for a really short period of time, for about two
weeks, she was in a little school play, Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Yes, the children did that play recently.”
“Her name was Pooky Jones,” Clisty reminded him.
“How could I forget a name like Pooky? I never heard
that one before.”
“I certainly have. That was my nickname when I was a
child. Thank you so much. The TV crew and I will be in your area soon. May we
stop by the school?”
“Certainly, I’d be happy to meet you. Please, make
sure you don’t video any images of the children here. That would breach their
right to privacy – confidentiality rules and all.”
“Certainly … thank you Mr. Mitchel.” They said their
pleasant goodbyes and Clisty touched the end
call on her phone. “That’s it! Now I
have to talk to Jake!”
•••••
Clisty entered the café to meet Jake on the glorious
April day. She looked around while her eyes adjusted to the dimer light inside.
Maneuvering past other diners, she slipped into a chair at his table. “You look
good, Jake.”
“I thought it was my job to say that to you,” he said
as he laughed. “You are enchanting.”
“Well, you are supposed to say that I look good. And,
I like enchanting even better. But,
you, my laced up detective, live in the wrong century. Women can say how
scrumptious their men look too.” She kissed him on the cheek, removed her
jacket and placed it on the seat next to her.
“Their men? Your man?” His eyes shone.
“Yes, my man. Is that okay with you?” she narrowed
her eyes like she was avoiding a follow-up jab.
“Okay? It’s far more than okay.” He placed his hand
on hers. “I’ll admit I’ve been worried about you going to New York.” She
started to open her mouth to speak, but he continued without yielding to the
Gentle Woman from Fort Wayne. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to succeed or
have some fantastic opportunities. I’m saying ... I don’t want to lose you.”
Clisty put her hand on Jake’s shoulder and leaned her
chin on her arm. As a TV personality, she had a taboo about displays of
affection out in the public. Actually, she was trying to hide the tears that
had started to drown her. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she swallowed
hard. “I guess I have been wondering if you will let me rise in my career, even
help me to succeed.”
“Let you? Don’t ever think I might hold you back. I
want to give you all the space you need,” he choked on his words as he tried to
control his own emotions.
A waitress had walked past the table a few times
until she finally interrupted softly. “Can I bring you two anything?”
“Coffee, black,” Clisty responded quickly. “And, the
pot too.”
“Make that another cup and a really large pot,” Jake
added—his voice raspy with choked feelings.
Clisty rooted in her purse and pulled out a tissue
that she dabbed under her lower eyelashes. She added a little sip of water to
flush out some emotional gravel from her throat. “I have some great news.” She
flashed a fresh smile and changed the subject.
“I am way overdue for good news,” Jake said and
patted Clisty’s hand.
“I think I found the general location of the Freedom Temple—in
Illinois, on the north side of Naperville. Pooky had attended school in that
northern part of DuPage County for a few weeks and the principal remembered
her.” She sat back as the waitress placed two steaming cups of coffee in front
of each of them. “Jake—we have him.”
No comments:
Post a Comment