Within weeks, his handful of low and powerless grew to over two dozen. Three months later, forty to fifty people would show up for his weekly sessions.
It was apparent that though they lived under the same roof, Liam and Noah were leading very different lives. They rarely spent any social time together, and when Liam would return to the apartment after one of his gatherings, Noah would tease him with, “So how was howling at the moon tonight?”
Since their childhood, Liam and Noah had been simpatico, as most twins would be, but the wreckage created by their father’s financial crimes had changed both of them. In less than a decade, they had drifted apart in their approach to life.
* * *
The group of followers continued to grow, and Liam realized he needed something other than a mangrove swamp in which to hold his meetings. One afternoon, as he was scoping out a spot where the group could meet, he noticed a dilapidated building with overgrown foliage and a FOR SALE sign. The place needed a lot of work. But maybe he could get his group to pitch in. He jotted down the number of the real-estate agent.
* * *
“Only one hundred thirty-five thousand dollars?” Noah was dubious. “Where do you think we’ll get that kind of money? The place is a disaster and needs thousands of dollars’ worth of work. More like tens of thousands,” Noah said, questioning Liam’s idea of buying the old farm.
“Listen. Some of the people who come to my meetings are willing to help get it in shape.” Liam had already anticipated his brother’s resistance.
“And how are you going to pay them? And pay for the supplies?” Noah was dismissing the notion from the outset.
“They are willing to do it for free in exchange for housing.”
“What are you talking about?” Noah’s voice was louder than usual. Has Liam completely lost his mind?
Liam closed his eyes and took in a deep inhale. “Noah, these people I’ve met, well, they’re just a little lost.”
Noah immediately interrupted. “Oh great. A lost and found?”
“Noah, please. Hear me out.” Liam was calm but determined. “The place is big enough to house a dozen people, maybe more if we can rebuild.”
“Oh ... no. I’m not going to be roomies with a bunch of cuckoo birds.”
“Please don’t call them that. As I said, they’re lost souls,” Liam continued. “The property has several outbuildings. Kind of like sheds. If they start on those, they could live outside the main house.”
Noah furrowed his brow. “Are you trying to tell me you want to start some kind of ashram? With those weird tents and patchouli incense burning everywhere? What do you call those things exactly?”
“They’re called yurts. And no. Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?” Noah prodded.
Liam motioned for them to sit down. “I have a vision.”
“Swell.” Noah groaned. “Not one of those again.”
“Hey, remember when we were going to old man Coulson’s, and I stopped you in the hallway and said I had a feeling something was off? And you accused me of having a ‘woo-woo’ moment?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, this isn’t one of them. A woo-woo moment, that is. Then again, maybe it is. Listen ...” Liam proceeded to explain his vision for the property and a nonprofit sanctuary retreat.
The word nonprofit did not sit well with Noah—until Liam explained his idea further.
Chapter Five
Present Day
Washington, D. C.
Maggie used one of her chewed-up fingers to punch in the speed-dial number for Annie’s cell phone. “Don’t tell me the food truck ran out of hot dogs,” Annie teased. Maggie was known for her voracious appetite. It was a wonder that she managed to stay in shape. “Are you biting your nails again?”
Maggie pulled her hand away from her mouth, looking to see if Annie was in her doorway. “Uh ... um ... well, yeah. But I have a good reason,” she half defended herself.
“What’s up?” Annie recognized the tone in Maggie’s voice.
Something was bothering her. Bothering her in a big way.
“Are you in the building?”
“Yes. Why?” Annie could hear the concern in Maggie’s voice.
“Remember my college chum, Gabby Richardson?”
“Yes, the willowy, reserved blonde? Pretty girl.”
“That’s her.”
“What about her?” Annie queried.
“Can we talk in person? I need to do some more digging.”
“I’ll head over to your office. Give me ten.” Annie clicked off.
Maggie reviewed her notes. She racked her brain trying to remember the name of the place where Gabby was staying. She turned toward her computer and typed in spiritual retreats, South Florida. Over a dozen were listed. They included words like moonrise, wellness, spiritual, meditative. She tried another search: retreats, uniforms. There were dozens upon dozens of websites for clothing. Many of the shirts looked like what the flower lady described. Well, that narrows it down to every spa, yoga studio, retreat, and hotel in the Miami area. But it made sense. If the men were from the place where Gabby was staying, they would most likely be wearing that kind of garb.
She zeroed in on the most obvious sanctuaries when it hit her. The Haven. She added that to her notes as Annie walked through the door of Maggie’s paper-infested office. One spark could start a bonfire. As much as the mess bothered Annie, she knew Maggie was a crackerjack editor. She didn’t want to mess with Maggie’s “flow.”
“What’s going on?” Annie moved a few piles of folders and clippings to clear a place for her to sit.
Maggie jumped right in. “About an hour ago, I got a message on voice mail from Gabby. She was calling from a florist shop in Miami.”
Maggie dialed her voice mail and played the message to Annie.
“Play that again.” Annie moved closer to the desk phone.
“I called the florist, and Gabby was gone. She was picked up by two men in a black SUV. According to the woman I spoke to, Gabby didn’t put up a fight.”
“A missing ticket. Missing passport. It sounds like someone definitely didn’t want her to go anywhere.”
“Sure does. Then two men pick her up at a florist’s. I checked the distance from the airport to the flower shop. At least twenty minutes away. The creepy questions are, How did they find her and why were they after her?” Maggie filled Annie in with the rest of the information she had received from the woman on the phone. Then told her that she had discovered the name of the place. “It’s called The Haven.”
“Did you try calling them?” Annie asked, her wheels already turning.
“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I thought I’d call under the guise that I was doing an article for our lifestyle section.”
“Unless those places are open to the public, like a spa, they don’t like people prying into their business.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “I think it’s private. The website doesn’t have a lot of information.”
“We should probably talk to Myra and Charles. Maybe Charles can get some intel on the place.”