We drank in silence, then I refilled my mug and pointedly replaced the pot. Ryan watched, then crossed to Mr. Coffee and poured himself a second cup.
“Do you think Kathryn actually has something to tell us?” he asked.
“She probably phoned to invite me for tuna asserole.”
“Now who’s being a pain in the ass?”
“Thanks for noticing.” I rinsed my mug and placed it upside down on the counter.
“Look, if you’re embarrassed about last night . . .”
“Should I be?”
“Of course not.”
“What a relief.”
“Brennan, I’m not going to go berserk in the autopsy room or grope you on a stakeout. Our personal relationship will in no way affect our professional behavior.”
“Small chance. Today I’m wearing underwear.”
“See.” He grinned.
I went aft to gather my things.
Half an hour later we were parked in front of the farmhouse. Dom Owens sat on the porch talking with a group of people. Through the screen it was impossible to tell anything about the others but gender. All four were male.
A crew was at work in the garden behind the white bungalow, and two women pushed children on the swings by the trailers while several others hung laundry. A blue van was parked in the driveway, but I saw no sign of the white one.
I scanned the figures at the swing set. I didn’t see Kathryn, though I thought one of the infants looked like Carlie. I watched a woman in a floral skirt push the baby back and forth in smooth metronomic arcs.
Ryan and I walked to the door and I knocked. The men stopped talking and turned in our direction.
“May I help you?” said a high-pitched voice.
Owens held up a hand. “It’s fine, Jason.”
He rose, crossed the porch, and pushed open the screen door.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your names.”
“I’m Detective Ryan. This is Dr. Brennan.”
Owens smiled and stepped out onto the stoop. I nodded and took my turn at shaking hands. The men on the porch grew very still.
“What can I do for you today?”
“We’re still trying to determine where Heidi Schneider and Brian Gilbert spent last summer. You were going to raise the question during family hour?” Ryan’s voice held no warmth.
Owens smiled again. “Experiential session. Yes, we did discuss it. Unfortunately, no one knew anything about either of them. I’m so sorry. I had hoped we could be of help.”
“We’d like to speak to your people, if we may.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t encourage that.”
“And why is that?”
“Our members live here because they seek peace and refuge. Many want nothing to do with the filth and violence of modern society. You, Detective Ryan, represent the world they have rejected. I cannot violate their sanctuary by asking them to speak to you.”
“Some of your members work in town.”
Owens tipped his head and looked to heaven for patience. Then he gave Ryan another smile.
“One of the skills we nurture is encapsulation. Not everyone is equally gifted, but some of our members learn to function in the secular yet remain sealed off, untouched by the moral and physical pollution.” Again the patient smile. “While we reject the profanity of our culture, Mr. Ryan, we are not fools. We know that man does not live by spirit alone. We also need bread.”
While Owens talked I checked the gardeners. No Kathryn.
“Is everyone here free to come and go?” I asked, turning back to Owens.
“Of course.” He laughed. “How could I stop them?”
“What happens if someone wants to leave for good?”
“They go.” He shrugged and spread his hands.
For a moment no one spoke. The creak of the swings carried across the yard.
“I thought your young couple might have stayed with us briefly, perhaps during one of my absences,” Owens offered. “Though not common, that has happened. But I’m afraid that is not the case. No one here has any recollection of either of them.”
Just then Howdy Doody appeared from behind the neighboring house. When he spotted us he hesitated, then
