A hand slid to her hair.
“Jennifer Cannon wasn’t alone.” The hand dropped to her lap, floated back to her ear. “We haven’t identified the person buried with her.”
I withdrew the composite sketch and held it out. She took it, her eyes avoiding mine.
The paper trembled slightly as she stared at the face I’d created.
“Is this for real?”
“Facial approximation is an art, not a science. One can never be certain about the accuracy.”
“You did this from a skull?” There was a tremor in her voice.
“Yes.”
“The hair is wrong.” Barely audible.
“You recognize the face?”
“Amalie Provencher.”
“Do you know her?”
“She works in the counseling center.” She kept her eyes averted.
“When did you last see her?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks. Maybe longer, I’m not sure. I was gone.”
“Is she a student?”
“What did they do to her?”
I hesitated, uncertain how much to reveal. Anna’s mood swings made me suspect she was either unstable or taking drugs. She didn’t wait for my answer.
“Did they murder her?”
“Who, Anna? Who are ‘they’?”
Finally, she looked at me. Her pupils glistened in the artificial light.
“Sandy told me about your conversation. She was right, and she was wrong. There is a group here on campus, but they have nothing to do with Satan. And I have nothing to do with them. Amalie did. She got the job in the counseling center because they told her to.”
“Is that where you met?”
She nodded, ran a knuckle under each eye, and wiped them on her pants.
“When?”
“I don’t know. Awhile back. I was pretty bummed, so I thought I’d try counseling. When I went to the center Amalie always made a point of chatting with me, acting really concerned. She’d never talk about herself or her problems. She really listened to what I had to say. We had a lot in common, so we became friends.”
I remembered Red’s words. Recruiters are instructed to learn about potential members, to convince them of their common ground and earn their trust.
“She’d talk about this group she belonged to, said it turned her life around. I finally went to one of the meetings. It was O.K.” She shrugged. “Someone spoke and we ate and did breathing exercises and stuff. It didn’t really grab me, but I went back a couple of times because everyone acted as if they really liked me.”
Love bombing.
“Then they invited me to the country. That sounded cool, so I went. We played games and listened to lectures and chanted and did exercises. Amalie loved it, but it wasn’t for me. I thought it was a lot of gobbledygook, but you couldn’t disagree. Plus they never left me alone. I wasn’t allowed a minute to myself.
“They wanted me to stay for a longer workshop, and when I said no, they got kind of huffy. I had to get pretty bitchy to get a ride back to town. I avoid Amalie now, but I see her from time to time.”
“What’s this group called?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think they killed Amalie?”
She wiped her palms on the sides of her thighs.
“There was a guy I met out there. He signed up through a course someplace else. Anyway, after I left he stayed, so I didn’t see him for a long time. Maybe a year. Then I ran into him at a concert on Ile Notre Dame. We saw each other for a while, but that didn’t work out.” Another shrug. “By then he’d left the group, but he had some spooky stories about what went on. Mostly, he wouldn’t talk about it, though. He was pretty freaked.”
“What was his name?”
“John something.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I think he moved away.” She wiped tears from her lower lashes.
“Anna, is Dr. Jeannotte connected with this group?”
“Why do you ask that?” Her voice broke on the last word. I could see a small blue vein pulsing in her
