Page 81 of Lethal Danger

“I’ve got you.” She whispered the reply, then dragged her gaze away from him as she checked on Lavinia and the others in the group. They’d gotten a bit farther ahead, so she picked up her pace, catching up with the group as Lavinia explained about the chosen architecture for the houses and shared how many people lived in the community.

No one seemed to notice Hawthorne slip away.

At least she assumed he had. She wouldn’t risk a look. Someone could choose that moment to glance at her, and she’d blow the whole mission.

Mission. Funny how she’d never enjoyed any of her military assignments nearly as much as this one undercover jaunt with Hawthorne.

And so far, there hadn’t been any hint of the danger Hawthorne had warned her about. All the people there, even the cult members they passed while on the tour, were so happy and kind. All smiles and friendly hellos. She could almost understand the attraction for people who decided to join the community.

It really seemed like the most ideal version of a community anyone could hope for. A family for people who didn’t have one. A family you could choose and who would accept you for who you were. A family who would stick with you and be in your life every day. Never reject you or walk out.

Yeah, this place had a definite appeal. She’d have to ask Hawthorne why he’d left. If Jazz had grown up in a place like this, she’d probably still be there. And be much happier.

Hawthorne couldn’t believe he was back. He tried to ignore the tumult of emotions that nauseated his belly as he made his way on the winding side path to the gray dwelling nestled far back amid the gardens.

Memory after memory had barraged him from the moment he’d entered the commune.

And none of them were good.

Thank the Lord Jazz had been there. Otherwise, he might’ve punched something or someone. Or broken down in tears in a corner.

He’d forgotten how much he hated this place. How much it had hurt him.

No. The people in it had hurt him.

As if on cue from his thoughts, movement up the path caught his eye.

This path was too narrow to risk passing someone. And he wasn’t supposed to be away from the tour group.

He ducked off the path into the vegetation. Pushing through the plants, he squatted under some tall bush with large, floppy leaves.

A man in the BL white robe sauntered down the path. A sound, like muttering, reached Hawthorne’s ears as the guy passed by. Probably trying to memorize his assignment from one of his classes. Or maybe muttering the true thoughts he was never allowed to voice to anyone.

Hawthorne waited until the man disappeared from view before crawling out of hiding. He returned to the path, brushing leaves and probably a few spiders off his T-shirt and jeans as he continued on.

He paused at a signpost along the path. 2112.

Sam Ackerman’s mother should be there, if Rebekah’s intel was correct.

He hurried onto the short sidewalk that led to the plain, gray front door. He pressed the buzzer mounted on the wall. Here was hoping the woman wouldn’t refuse to talk to him. Or worse, report him as a banned trespasser.

Rebekah had said the Ackermans joined BL when she was ten years old, well after Hawthorne had left. So Sam’s mother shouldn’t recognize him.

The door opened just wide enough for him to see a short woman in the usual white robe. Her graying hair was pulled back in the braided ring around her head that was the BL standard for women. She landed brown eyes on him. Eyes full of fear.

Maybe because she hadn’t expected to see a strange man on her doorstep. And he was breaking the rules, which greatly frightened most BL members.

“Mrs. Ackerman?”

“Who are you?” She pinched the door farther closed.

“Are you Sam’s mother?”

Her eyebrows drew together as she stared at him. Hesitated. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

The door opened another inch. “Thank you.”

---