She flashed him a look as they navigated their way through rows of boxes. “It’s my research archives. I’ve been studying cults a long time.” She made her way to the kitchen, where she set her purse down. “Want something to drink? Water or coffee?”
“I’ll take some coffee. Looks like we’ve a long day ahead of us.”
She put the grinds in the coffeemaker, then fetched two mugs. When it was ready, she poured two cups. “How do you like it?”
“Black. Straight up.”
Greer leaned against the kitchen island and sipped the hot brew. She avoided looking at him. “Talk to me, doc.”
“About what?” she asked, staring at her mug.
“About why you chose the field, the specialty you did. Why cults?”
She looked at his throat, then dragged her eyes up over his jaw, over the hollows in his cheeks, to his cinnamon eyes. “I was under the impression there was nothing about me you guys didn’t know.”
“I know you on paper. I don’t know the whys and hows of you.”
She set her mug aside. “I grew up in a cult in Colorado.”
He nodded. “The Grummond Society. But you got out. So why are you still fighting the fight? Why the rabid desire to continue existing in that world?”
“Because I want to raise awareness of communities like the one I grew up in.”
He sipped his coffee. “What’s wrong with people living how they wish, grouping together according to their ideals?”
“I don’t have a problem with adults who self-identify with certain schools of thought and build communities around them. I do have a problem when those groups use fear to impose rules that harm the welfare and freedom of their residents. I have a problem when women are owned by men. I have a problem when children are taught to fear and hate and judge and condemn.”
“And marry at fourteen.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “And that.” Especially that. Oh, God. Did he know? Or was that just a random comment?
“What happened to your mom? She seems to have disappeared after you turned eighteen.”
“She got me out when she learned that I didn’t want to be Prophet Josiah’s fifth wife.” Remi looked at the floor, remembering those idyllic four years with her mother after they’d left the Grummonds—the only time the two of them had ever been alone.
Her mom had put a brave face on, but Remi knew she didn’t like being separated from her group. She lost weight and grew fatigued over the years. The day Remi graduated high school was the day her mom returned to the Grummond Society. Communication between them became sparse, then stopped. In the autumn of her freshman year at CSU, Remi contacted one of her mom’s friends when she couldn’t get a hold of her mom, only to learn that she died of a chest cold that went to pneumonia the summer she was back with the group.
Her mom’s friend warned her never to contact the group again. A warning she’d heeded for more than a decade…until this year. She’d reached out to them a few weeks ago. She hadn’t used the name she’d been known by while she lived with them; she’d used her real name. She had street cred now, a professional reputation that she could stand behind. She’d come far enough as a researcher that she’d decided it was time to look at the Grummonds with the eyes of an academic.
Remi looked at Greer. “She stayed with me until I turned eighteen, then she returned to the Grummonds, where she died.” Silence settled between them.
Greer reached for her hand. “Can I ask you something?”
She looked up at him, waiting, dreading his question.
“You and your mom picked new names when you got out and set up your current identities. Why did you pick the names you picked?”
Remi smiled, remembering those frightening first days, wondering if the Grummonds were going to come after them. “My mom picked Joan for her name because she thought it sounded like a warrior’s name.” She leaned her head as she glanced at him. “You know, Joan of Arc.”
“And you?”
“I picked Remington because I thought it was about as polar opposed to Chastity as I could get. I was going to be an ender of things…and a protector.”
Greer slowly smiled, though his eyes looked sad. “I told you that you were a warrior. Why Chase?”
“Mom wanted us to never forget that we might be targets of Grummond retribution, that we might always be chased.”
“Did they come after you?”
“No. But we changed our names, blended in quickly, disappeared into mainstream society.”
“Who set up your IDs?”
Remi looked at Greer. “Are you asking as a Fed?”
“I’m not a Fed. Just curious.”
“There was an underground network of people who’d left the Grummonds. Mom used them. One of them helped us establish all of the historical paperwork we’d need.”
“Do the Friends have a network of ex-members like that?”
Remi shook her head. “I looked for one, but couldn’t find it.”
His hand tightened on hers. “About your identity…your mom had your new profiles set up illegally. I don’t know if he picked a social from a deceased person or one that hasn’t yet been assigned, but the fact that it isn’t legitimate is a wrinkle our enemies could exploit.”
Remi pulled her hand from him and gripped her mug. “What does that mean?”
“It means we need to file the proper documentation so your past can’t come back to haunt you.”
“Oh my God. If the WKB knew…if the provost were to find out…”
“Right. We’ll get it squared away.”
“I’ve passed so many background checks, it never occurred to me that Mom might have done it illegally.”
He set his cup down, then eased hers from her tight hold so he could pull her into his arms. “I’ll help you.”
“Thank you.” Remi hugged him. “You know everything about me.” She flashed him a look. “Tell me something else about you.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Not much to tell. I’m the oldest of three kids, well four, but you know about the baby. Both of my sisters are married. Like I said before, my parents are both schoolteachers. We lived in a suburb of D.C.”