Page 62 of See How They Hide

“Eleven people escaped in total,” Riley said without hesitating. “Thalia and Robert were the first, they left on their own, but I knew. I helped nine after they left. Including Chris.”

“Jane and Chris were not the only people killed,” Kara said. “When we mentioned Robert Benson, Andrew became agitated. And you just mentioned Robert. Who is he?”

Riley blinked rapidly. “Robert?” Her voice sounded like a squeak.

“Robert Benson was killed in the same manner as Jane and Chris. He has no background until he moved to Virginia eleven years ago.”

Riley swallowed uneasily, drank more water. “Do you have a picture?”

Kara pulled up her phone and a moment later showed Riley a photo. It was Robert. He was smiling and stood next to a woman who had kind eyes.

Riley took the phone and stared at the photo. “He...he looks happy.”

“By all accounts, he and his wife had a good life, a good marriage.” Kara took the phone back. “You know him.”

“He was one of my fathers.”

“One of your fathers? Like a priest? Or your dad?”

“A father. A leader. I mean, he could have been my biological dad, but we don’t care about that at Havenwood. I don’t know who my dad was. My mother had many companions. Marriage is an unnecessary societal creation. All the men wanted to make my mother happy. Robert left eleven years ago, with Thalia. And everything changed.”

How could she explain?

“Havenwood wasn’t always a prison. It used to be a wonderful place to live. My grandmother told me of all the violence and hate and greed and rush rush rush of society. My grandfather was killed and left her with a daughter to raise.” Riley paused. She had wondered over the last few years how much of what she had been told—by her grandmother, her mother, Thalia—was true, and what were lies.

“Anyway,” Riley continued, “she wanted a better life. Free of all unnecessary conventions. My grandmother had wonderful stories of how Havenwood started with two families, then four families, then more, who shared everything and worked together in cooperation and love.” Riley had often wished she had been born in her grandmother’s time, so she could have seen the best of Havenwood.

“And from all the stories, Havenwood was utopia. But like all utopias, it wasn’t real. Jane—” Riley closed her eyes. “Jane was my best friend. She had this faith I’ve never seen before. Havenwood is spiritual, not religious. There’s a difference,” she insisted, looking from Kara to Michael.

“There is,” Michael concurred.

“Jane had a Bible. She was never without it. She said once that all people sinned. That it was hard not to, but if you loved God, you could keep the commandments. I didn’t understand then, and while now I know what she meant, it’s bullshit. Because Jane is dead, and she was the best person I knew. But I’m alive. What’s fair in that?”

“You know,” Kara said conversationally, “my parents were con artists. They had me do things for their cons when I was growing up. When I was younger, I didn’t understand. When I got older, I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I did it anyway because I didn’t know better and I had no one to talk to. When I was a teenager, I wanted a better life. I didn’t want to cheat people anymore. My father was arrested and sent to prison, then my mother hooked up with an asshole boyfriend. I sabotaged one of their scams. Ended up living with my grandmother—one of those good people like Jane. She turned me around. You were raised in a world where you didn’t know better, and even when you did, you were young and didn’t see a way out.”

“But Jane never did anything wrong. She just said no and walked away. I should have, too.”

“Riley, I’m not a religious person,” Kara said, “but there’s this idea of forgiveness that I buy into. Starting with yourself. We need your help. If there is anyone else out there who left Havenwood, they are now targets. You can help save them.” Softly, Kara said, “Riley, if you were the one who died and Jane was sitting here right now, what would she do?”

Riley felt a weight lift from her. It was as if the answer was there all along, but Riley couldn’t see it until now. In that moment, she felt Jane’s hand on her shoulder and a peace came over her.

“My mother has run Havenwood ever since my grandmother died eleven years ago. And our imperfect but peaceful little society completely fell apart.”

23

Havenwood

Eleven Years Ago

“Grandma, I want to go to the fair,” Riley whined. “I’m twelve.” Not quite. Two more months. But she had explored every inch of the valley they lived in, climbed every climbable tree, crossed every creek, found every trail that had been forged.

But wherever she went, however high she climbed, all she saw was more trees. Sometimes, she felt they were the only people in the world.

Only certain people took their goods to the fairs. They spent all winter creating beautiful things—quilts and sweaters, carvings and paintings, jams and jellies. Riley wasn’t good at sewing, she cut herself every time she tried to carve wood, and she didn’t like to spend time in the kitchen. But she could draw, and her grandma said she had real talent. She drew everything she saw, and things she imagined. She wasn’t so good at painting, but for the first time the council picked her small charcoal drawings to sell at the fair, and she wanted to go and see who bought them.

She wouldn’t talk to anyone—people scared her. She’d never left Havenwood because her mother had told her about all the evil outside the valley. But she wanted to see more, to see what she had read about.

Her mother always said no. When Riley was a little girl, bad people tried to kill everyone at Havenwood. Riley still remembered her daddy Glen that day he told her to stay in the schoolhouse with Jane and the other children. He had been so scared, but he went out to help her mother and grandmother. He died, but he helped save Havenwood. That meant he was brave and strong. And no one had tried again! It had beenforever.So why was her mother still scared?

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