Funny thing about life. Each time he’d been actually convinced he’d hit rock bottom, something happened to turn his life around.
Like the job that had brought him to this little town in the middle-of-nowhere Wyoming. Since he’d started his own private investigation firm, any kind of work had been few and far between. He’d begun to despair, wondering how he was going to pay his rent, when the Bartlett family had showed up on his doorstep wanting to hire him.
Wanting, hell. They’d begged him to take their case.
After listening to their story, Jack had agreed to help. Even if he’d been drowning in work—which he definitely wasn’t—their case had intrigued him. Of course, anything involving a missing child and a huge cult called the Children of Eternity would. Their compound was located about ten miles from the town of Landon, Wyoming, which was why he’d traveled here.
The first thing he’d done was locate the local NA chapter.
Now that he was seated, Jack allowed himself to check out the others in the room. The group was small, which was to be expected due to the size of the town. But wherever he was, addiction didn’t discriminate. Young and old, several races and all types of people were represented here. He counted maybe twenty-five souls in various stages of recovery.
Good. Maybe here, someone would let down their guard enough to talk to him about COE. So far, despite numerous inquiries around town, he’d learned exactly zero about the cult. Wait, scratch that. He’d learned the good townspeople of Landon distrusted and disliked the cult members. Despite that, they weren’t willing to discuss their reasons why. Of course, it didn’t help that they were suspicious of any outsiders.
A tall, heavyset woman went to the podium at the front of the room. It appeared the meeting was about to start.
She cleared her throat and waited for the cluster of stragglers hanging out at the coffeepot to disperse and take their seats. While they shuffled into chairs, the back door opened and another man hurried in. Head down, he had the furtive sort of movements Jack so well remembered from the first days’ attempt at getting clean. He knew desperation and despair would be in the man’s face, if he would lift his gaze from the floor.
Since all of the chairs in Jack’s row were unoccupied, the new arrival sat in the one next to Jack.
“Hey,” Jack said quietly. “Welcome.”
Though the man nodded in response, he didn’t look up.
As usual, Jack barely heard the speaker’s first words. Though there was no set speech, the message would be one of welcome, encouraging people to share and offer each other support. Accountability played a big role in the journey toward recovery and that was the reason they advised attending meetings as often as possible.
Though Jack had been clean six months, he still feared a relapse. Especially when his leg and back injuries started hurting and he found himself craving relief with the pain meds that had gotten him hooked in the first place. Prescribed by his doctor, he’d initially begun taking them to help with the loss of his leg and then later while he’d healed. But he’d quickly built a tolerance and had to take more and more to get any sort of relief. Soon, he’d found himself taking them like candy. In NA, he’d learned his story was an all too familiar one.
The man next to him shifted in his chair. When he eventually raised his head, he focused all his attention on the speaker. The tense line of his shoulders and the way he kept jiggling his left leg spoke of his nervousness.
When the call went out for people to come up and share their stories, Jack thought the newcomer might bolt.
“Don’t worry,” he said, touching the man’s arm and keeping his voice low. “No one will make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thanks,” the guy muttered. After a moment, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Thomas.”
“Jack.” It was common at these kinds of meetings to only use first names.
One at a time, a few different people went to the front and told their stories. Thomas listened intently. Jack did, too, but since he had no intention of sharing anything personal at the first meeting, he felt relaxed.
Finally, after the last person had gone up and talked—and there were many who, like Jack and Thomas, did not—the meeting was adjourned. Coffee and refreshments were in the back.
Thomas eyed the group once again congregating near the coffeepot and remained seated. Since Jack figured he had a few minutes before he’d head back that way to try got get information from one or two of the others, he did, also.
“Are you from around here?” Thomas asked, putting his arm along the back of the metal chair.
“Nope.” Eyeing the other man, Jack gave a casual shrug. “Just passing through. I always try to make an NA meeting if I can. It really helps.”
“Any family in the area?”
Jack shook his head. “I lost all my family and close friends while I was battling my addiction. I’ve tried to reach out and make amends, but none of them want anything to do with me.”
“That’s a shame.” Thomas sounded sincere. “Have you heard anything about the Children of Eternity?”
Just like that, every nerve ending went on full alert. “I have heard they’re nearby,” Jack said carefully. “I find the concept fascinating, to be honest. But when I asked around town, no one would tell me anything about them.”
Thomas regarded him curiously. “What do you want to know?”
“Quite honestly? I’m thinking their way of life might be exactly what I need.” Jack swallowed hard, glad he’d rehearsed this speech on the off chance someone connected would talk to him. “Simple and clean. Letting someone else call all the shots.”
Bracing himself for the other man’s reaction, Jack was surprised when Thomas flashed an approving smile. “Really?” Thomas shrugged. “That’s refreshing and unusual. As it happens, I know quite a bit about COE. But if you want to discuss them, we’ll need to go outside. I won’t talk about them here.”
Which sounded both perfectly reasonable and a little bit suspicious. Still, Thomas was offering more than Jack had been able to glean from multiple queries around town.
“Sure.” Jack pushed to his feet. “Lead the way.”
He followed Thomas outside. The sun had set, but full darkness had not yet fallen. “I’m parked over there.” Thomas pointed to a mostly empty lot behind a deserted building. “We can sit in my car and talk.”
Instinct urged Jack to decline. Instead he heard himself agree.
As they approached Thomas’s car—an older, nondescript black vehicle that seemed almost government-issue—Jack had second thoughts. “Hey, wait.” He grabbed the other man’s arm. “How about we just talk here, outside? It’s a nice night and I really enjoy the fresh air.”
Thomas gave him a look full of disgust. “I’m not going to come on to you or assault you, if that’s what you think. Never mind. I’ll just leave. I really thought you were interested in learning about COE.” He shook his head and strode for his car, using the key fob to unlock the doors.
Damn. “Wait.” Jack hurried to catch up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give that impression. But you know, strange things have happened. One can’t be too careful.”
“I agree.” Opening the driver’s-side door, Thomas got in. “Are you coming or not?”
Taking a deep breath and hoping he wasn’t making a colossal mistake, Jack got in on the passenger side.