turned and hurried back in the direction from which he’d come.
“I’d still like to speak to a few folks,” said Ryan. “There could be something someone knows that they just don’t think is important. That happens all the time.”
“Mr. Ryan, I will not have my people harassed. I asked about your young couple and no one knew them. What more is there to say? I’m afraid I really can’t have you disturbing our routine.”
Ryan cocked his head and made a clucking sound. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to, Dom.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m not going to go away. I have a friend named Baker. You do remember him? And he has friends who give him things called warrants.”
Owens and Ryan locked eyes, and for a moment no one spoke. I heard the men on the porch rise, and in the distance a dog barked. Then Owens smiled and cleared his throat.
“Jason, please ask everyone to come to the parlors.” His voice was low and even.
Owens stood back and a tall man in a red warm-up suit slipped past him and angled toward the neighboring property. He was soft and overweight, and looked a little like Julia Child. I watched him stop to stroke a cat, then continue toward the garden.
“Please come in,” said Owens, opening the screen. We followed him to the same room we’d occupied the day before and sat on the same rattan couch. The house was very quiet.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back. Would you care for anything?”
We told him no, and he left the room. Overhead, a fan hummed softly.
Soon I heard voices and laughter, then the creak of the screen door. As Owens’ flock filtered in I studied them one by one. I sensed Ryan doing the same.
Within minutes the room was full, and I could conclude only one thing. The assembly looked totally unremarkable. They might have been a Baptist study group on its annual summer picnic. They joked and laughed and looked anything but oppressed.
There were babies, adults, and at least one septuagenarian, but no adolescents or children. I did a quick count: seven men, thirteen women, three kids. Helen had said there were twenty-six living at the commune.
I recognized Howdy and Helen. Jason leaned against a wall. El stood near the archway, Carlie on her hip. She stared at me intently. I smiled, remembering our meeting in Beaufort the previous afternoon. Her expression didn’t change.
I scanned the other faces. Kathryn was not present.
Owens returned and the room fell silent. He made introductions, then explained why we were there. The adults listened attentively, then turned to us. Ryan handed the photo of Brian and Heidi to a middle-aged man on his left, then outlined the case, avoiding unnecessary detail. The man looked at the picture and passed it on. As the snapshot circulated I studied each face, watching for subtle changes of expression that might indicate recognition. I saw only puzzlement and empathy.
When Ryan finished, Owens again addressed his followers, soliciting input on the couple or the phone calls. No one spoke.
“Mr. Ryan and Dr. Brennan have requested permission to interview you individually.” Owens looked from face to face. “Please feel free to talk to them. If there is a thought you harbor, please share it with honesty and compassion. We did not cause this tragedy, but we are part of the cosmic whole and should do what is in our power to set this dislocation in order. Do it in the name of harmony.”
Every eye was on him, and I felt a strange intensity in the room.
“Those of you who cannot speak should feel no guilt or shame.” He clapped his hands. “Now. Work and be well! Holistic affirmation through collective responsibility!”
Spare me, I thought.
When they’d gone Ryan thanked him.
“This is not Waco, Mr. Ryan. We have nothing to hide.”
“We were hoping to speak with the young woman we met yesterday,” I said.
He looked at me a moment then said, “Young woman?”
“Yes. She came in with a child. Carlie, I believe?”
He looked at me so long I thought perhaps he didn’t remember. Then the Owens smile.
“That would be Kathryn. She had an appointment today.”
“An appointment?”
“Why are you concerned with Kathryn?”
“She seems close to Heidi’s age. I thought they might have known each other.” Something told me not to discuss our juice party in Beaufort.
“Kathryn wasn’t here last summer. She’d gone to visit with her parents.”
“I see. When will she be back?”
“I’m not certain.”
The screen door opened and a tall man appeared in the hallway. He was scarecrow thin, and had a white streak across his right eyebrow and lashes, giving him an oddly lopsided look. I remembered him. During the assembly he’d stood near the hall, playing with one of the toddlers.
