Page 36 of Mountain Captive

Ryker and Travis left. Chris stared out the front window after them, then began to pace. “The sheriff doesn’t believe me,” she said. “He thinks I’m making up a story to get attention or something.”

“He didn’t say that,” Rand said. “I think he’s trying to look at the case from every angle.” He moved in beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “I believe you.”

She wouldn’t look at him. She held herself rigid, jaw tight, as if fighting for control. “I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen,” she said after a long silence. “Something bad.”

“You believe they’re still here,” Rand said.

“They’ve been pursuing me for fifteen years,” she said. “Why leave when they’ve gotten this close?”

He nodded. While some might dismiss Chris’s protests, his experience with the ruthlessness of his sister’s cult made him inclined to believe her. He wanted to put his arm around her and try to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure she would be receptive. “What can I do?” he asked instead.

She pressed her lips together, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. Then she raised her eyes to his. “Tell me about your sister,” she said.

CHRISSATONthe sofa and patted the cushion next to her. She needed a distraction to pull her out of the worry cycle she was in. “I want to hear about her, if you don’t mind talking about it,” she said.

Rand sat, the cushion compressing under his weight, shifting her toward him. He leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows on knees. “I haven’t talked about Teri in a long time,” he said. “But I’d like to tell you.”

Chris let out a breath, some of the tension easing. She had been afraid he would shut her down—as she herself might have done in his shoes. “She was younger than you?”

“Yes. Nineteen. I was completing my first tour in Afghanistan when she met this group of people. At a local coffee shop, she said. They approached her table and asked if they could sit down. The place was crowded, so she said yes. They fell into conversation and apparently talked for hours. They introduced themselves as volunteers, working on a project to help the poor in the area. Teri always had a soft heart and wanted to help people. They picked up on that right away and used her sympathy to reel her in.”

“The Vine taught the same technique,” Chris said. “Identify what you have in common with the person, what they are concerned about or appear to need, and play up that connection.”

“There was a guy in the group—Mark or Mike or Mitch, I never did learn his real name. In the group, he was known as Starfire. They all had names like that—Rainbow and Cloud, Surfer and Starfire. The next thing I heard, Teri was calling herself Aurora. She quit school and moved out of the dorm and into a camper van with Starfire, and then the group left town. My parents were frantic when they contacted me, hoping I had heard from her. But I hadn’t heard a thing.”

“What did you do?”

“There was nothing I could do. I was in a field hospital in a war zone. I couldn’t leave. My parents contacted the police but were told if Teri left of her own free will, there wasn’t anything they could do. Mom and Dad had a couple of phone calls from her saying she was fine and they didn’t need to worry, and that was it.”

“We had people join the Vine who left families behind,” Chris said. “I never thought much about the anguish those parents must have felt. And their brothers and sisters.”

“One day Teri was with us, then she was gone, with a group of people we didn’t know anything about. On one hand, I understood what the police were telling us. An adult has the right to make her own decisions. But putting together what I learned when I researched online and what I heard from my parents, the group felt wrong to me.”

“What did you find out online?” she asked.

“Mostly there were postings on various websites from relatives who were desperate to get in touch with their missing children or siblings. A few complaints from businesses in areas where the group had stayed, alleging that members had stolen items or harassed customers.”

“What was the name of the group?”

“They called themselves Atlantis or the Seekers.”

Chris shook her head. “I haven’t heard of them, but most people have never heard of the Vine either. These groups try to keep a low profile.”

“I was able to piece together some of their story after I was discharged from the army. By then, she had been with the group for almost two years. They made a living by recruiting members, who were obligated to turn over all their money to the group. They also begged and, I think, stole, though they always left town before anyone reported them to the local law enforcement.”

Chris nodded. “The Vine did that, too—made new members turn over all their assets. They were told they were contributing to the group, but I think most of the money went to the Exalted. While we lived in tents and trailers, he had a fancy motorhome and, supposedly, owned houses in several states. He traveled a lot, managing his various properties, and often delivered his messages to us via videotaped lectures. The rare times he did come to our camp were big occasions. Everyone turned out for a glimpse of him.”

“From the research I did, a lot of these groups operate the same way,” Rand said.

“What happened to your sister?” Chris asked. He had said she’d committed suicide, but how? When?

“It took me a long time to find her,” he said. “By the time I located her, she had been with the group over two years and was fully brainwashed, and refused my pleas to leave the group.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Yes. I tracked the group down to a little town in Eastern Oregon. Teri was there. She looked terrible. She had lost weight and wore this shapeless sack of a dress, her hair uncombed in these kind of dreadlocks. She had lost a front tooth—she wouldn’t say how. And when I tried to talk to her, she said she wasn’t allowed to talk to outsiders and ran away.”

“Oh, Rand.” Chris laid a hand on his arm.

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