Maxwell rubbed her hand across her brow. “I’m going to have to sleep out here tomorrow and probably the following few nights. I need to have more private therapy sessions with the couples to screen them for admission to the Garden. The one from yesterday—the two who argued. I’ll start with them.”
There was definitely something more going on here. Maxwell was using Wilderness Within as a sieve, filtering couples through some kind of assessment, then inviting ones with certain characteristics to this “garden.”
Was that where Rachel had gone?The Garden?
“Is that what you want?” Matthew questioned her, and I saw her flinch, her real answer a blip over her face before she masked it and went to him, lifting her hand to his cheek.
“Of course, dear Matthew.”
I pressed into the tree, hearing her instruct him to head back to the office and pick up dinner for the participants. I watched her disappear inside and waited for Matthew to leave before moving from my post.
My eyes lingered on the camper. Maxwell had to have notes on her clients in there, which meant I had to take a look inside. And it sounded like tonight might be my only shot.Storm or not.
Chapter 13
Calder
Rule #33: Know your exits before you need them. Whether it’s a room, a tent, or a conversation, always have an escape route planned.
“Bathroom. Tent. Tent. Our tent.” Lara drew her finger along the map she’d sketched into her journal, tapping twice on the spot that marked our current location.
We’d both returned to the tent just as the dinner gong sounded. Within moments, the thud of approaching footfalls terminated in Ben’s petulant voice announcing he had our dinner.
Neither of us said a word as he delivered the food, which was more promising than the accommodations: a chicken-and-quinoa salad layered in vegetables and a citrus dressing. Ben took one long look at Lara like he’dalmostdug up the gumption to dare me to do something about it, but then cowered, reminded us about curfew, and left. I listened to his footsteps, nodding when it was clear for us to speak freely.
She immediately opened her journal again.
“I counted three more groupings of three tents, all branching off of this grassy area here.” She’d created a map of the area in lines and shapes. “Beyond the last set of tents, there’s a small overlook above a stream or river—I’m not sure.”
“Probably a small stream off the Snake River.” I closed her journal and handed it back to her. “Your map is good.”
It wasn’t detailed by any means, but I was impressed by her spatial awareness ... and the fact that she’d thought to draw it out in the first place. Cassius would be impressed, too. My father had a thing for maps. A hobby ... if Cassius Stone had hobbies. He made them. Collected them. Restored them. My old bedroom had become his map room.
“The history of the world can be deduced from maps alone. He who controls the land, controls the story.” Not a rule, but a resounding truth.
“Thanks.” She traded the notebook for her dinner bowl and sank onto the edge of the bed. “I only passed five couples, but none of them ... I didn’t see Rachel.” She mixed everything with her cardboard fork. “What did you find?”
I wanted her to keep talking so she wouldn’t hoover in her food, but it was too late for that. She’d finished almost half her dinner by the time I started mine.
“Maxwell has a motor home on the other side of the Sanctuary where she stays. She was on the phone with a man named Adam when I found it. He sounded like her significant other.”
I’d stopped at the same point along my way back to message Callum again.
“What were they talking about?” She scooped up her last bite.
“It sounds like she uses Wilderness Within as some kind of recruitment platform for a place she called ‘the Garden.’ She mentioned inviting another couple or two from this session to whatever this garden is.” I tipped forward and scraped together a bite, adding, “She did suggest one of the other couples who was arguing during their session with her yesterday, so it could be for some kind of advanced therapy.”
Lara nodded and swallowed, setting her empty bowl on the table, her expression lost in thought.
“I also spoke to Callum.”
Her head whipped to the side. “What? How?”
I dropped my fork into my bowl and carefully lifted my left foot.
My silence encouraged hers as I opened the heel and showed her the tiny phone.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did he talk to the reporter?”