“You saying that was her tithe? Killing me?” Kit asked.
“Yeah. The woodcutter wasn’t surprised that she’d been assigned that task. He said he even had her practice by slaughtering some pigs. She said that that night, too. Remember?” Greer reminded Kit. “The Friends aren’t supposed to ever talk about their tithes—”
“Because they’re committing crimes,” Remi finished for him.
“Yeah. And both Dr. Robinson—the village doctor,” he explained for the others, “and the woodcutter knew Sally was her fake name for her tithe service.”
Remi walked over to her chair and sat down. Greer followed. “I don’t understand why they would do that,” she said. The Friends are a pacifist society. They don’t have any designs on taking over the world. They just want to be left alone. Why go out into the world to do a crime? How is that a service to their community?”
The group silently considered that.
“So what’s happening with the teenagers who’ve gone off to do their tithes and aren’t returning?” Blade asked.
“Have Lobo look into adolescent John and Jane Does who’re showing up in morgues,” Kit told him. “It isn’t a large number we’re looking for, is it?” He looked at Remi and Greer. “Maybe twenty? Twenty-five? Fifteen?”
“True. But from a community of five hundred, that’s sizable. What are they up to in the outside world?” Greer asked. “Kids slip under the radar so easily.”
Kit nodded. “You need to get out there and get more fingerprints. Let’s see what washes out. But first”—he jerked his head toward the stacks of boxes—“let’s get a handle on what we know and what we don’t.”
“I don’t know if we can go back,” Remi said, glancing from Kit to Greer.
“Why not?” Kit asked.
“Because of what happened to the woodcutter.”
“Unless the WKB told someone, the Friends don’t know anything more than that he disappeared.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After supper, Remi carried a couple of boxes up from the bunker. She wanted to spend the evening reading through the files, but didn’t want to stay in the cavernous meeting room down below.
Hope was coming down the stairs as she was going up. “Hey, Remi—I’ve ordered replacement parts for your car. They should be here tomorrow. The shop in town will let me use their paint booth. I’ll have you back on the road in no time. If you have to go somewhere, use one of the guys’ cars or grab mine.”
“Thanks, Hope. That’s awesome.”
“Yeah. Val’s SUV can’t be as easily fixed. They’re going to have to trade it out for a new one while it goes back to the armor shop.”
“Why? What happened to it?”
“It was peppered with bullets the night Greer fought the woodcutter.”
Remi’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah. They got an earful from me.” They smiled at each other. “By the way, I’m new here, too. I know how overwhelming it can be. These are good people. They’ll help you. If you let them.”
“I don’t think I have a choice. Greer’s saved me more times than I can count. I obviously don’t know what I’m up against.”
Hope reached out and squeezed her arm. “I’m here, if you need me. Even if you just want to talk. Generally, I’m messing around in the garage. But they have a great pool here, too, and I’m often in it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
A few hours later, Remi leaned back against the pillows and stretched her legs out over the papers on her bed. She wondered how much longer she could delay going back to the university. If things didn’t change fast, there was no way she could do that. Even if she put a very public halt to her work on the Friendship Community, it was already too late—she was in too deep.
She wouldn’t survive a return to the university at this point. And how many others would she be endangering simply by being on campus when the WKB came for her again?
She’d have to let things play out for a few more days, then decide what to do. Maybe the provost would be understanding if he thought she was attempting to comply. Maybe Clancy could start her classes for her for a short while.
She listened to the sounds in the house. She could hear mumbled voices of the guys in the billiards room downstairs. There was a faint buzz from the TV down the hall in the south bedroom wing. It all made her feel comfortable. And not alone. Bad things always seemed to happen when she was by herself lately.
She changed into a pair of flowery boxer briefs and a tank top, then brushed her teeth and got ready for bed.
“Hey, Remi.” Greer’s voice came into her room as he knocked on her open door. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Greer?” she called out. “Can we talk for a bit?”
“Sure.” He walked down the short hallway sandwiched between her walk-in closet and bathroom. She didn’t know if all the bedrooms were set up the same way, but hers felt a lot like a hotel room—except the furnishings and linens were top grade.
Greer leaned against the corner where the hallway met her room. “S’up?”
He wore a white T-shirt that looked sprayed on. It conformed to his muscles, leaving nothing—and everything—to the imagination. His brown hair was mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it, making it spiky and unkempt. A day’s growth of beard shadowed his square jaw. He looked as tired as she felt. Neither of them had gotten much sleep lately.
“Nothing. Nothing new, anyway. I’m tired, but I don’t think I can sleep.”
“Might help if you close your door.”
“I like the noise. I like hearing people around me.”
He came into the room and started stacking the papers spread out on her bed. “Remi, you gotta leave this stuff downstairs.” He put everything back in the box and carried it over to her dresser.
“Why?”