"How long does it take?"
"No set time frame. When you're ready to move up, he will know. And he will tell you."
."He?"
"Steven Blechman, of course."
"Oh, of course."
"Come on, Kira. Let me show you to your room."
Felicia led her back to the plain barracks on the far side of the barn. Each of the twelve units looked exactly alike. Felicia took her to the last unit, farthest from the barn. The door had no lock, but it was stuffy inside, as if it hadn't been lived in for some time. Four bunks lined the wall. Clothes and other essentials were laid out on the bed, just as they had been at the cabin on the retreat. There was a bathroom, though it wasn't much bigger than the closet beside it. The thought of sharing this space with three other women didn't thrill Andie.
"It will be just the two of us for a week or so," said Felicia.
"We're living together?"
"Everyone gets a partner when they first arrive. It's my job to help . You through."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." She gestured toward the bathroom. "Maybe you'd like to clean up a little?"
"I'd love a shower."
"There's a towel in the bathroom. Feel free."
The shower stall was small, but Andie didn't care. A hot shower was the closest thing to normal she'd experienced in three days. She ran it until the hot water was gone, which wasn't long. Less than two minutes. It was on a timer to keep her from overindulging.
Andie stepped out and toweled off. She stood and faced what should have been the mirror, that space right above the sink. But there was none.
She stepped out, wrapped in a towel. Felicia was seated on the bed. Laid out atop the towel resting on the bed were a brush, a comb, and scissors.
"Did you know there's no mirror in here?" said Andie. "We don't have any."
"No mirrors?"
"Come, sit here."
Andie seated herself on the bed. Felicia said, "How you see yourself is not important." She started combing Andie's hair in a way Andie had never combed it, parting it on the wrong side. "What matters is how he sees you. We groom each other in the way that pleases him."
Andie froze as her new partner reached for the scissors. She wanted to protest, but she quelled her instincts. She had to submit. Kira would submit.
"Are you saying every woman who comes here has changed her appearance?"
"Every woman and every man."
The thought chilled her. She had looked carefully, but perhaps not carefully enough. It was entirely possible that she had already seen Beth Wheatley and not recognized her. Then again, maybe she was one of those less accessible members at the higher level.
With a snip of the scissors, long strands of wet hair began falling to the floor.
The pea-gravel driveway was empty at the home, of Meredith Borge, and no one answered when Gus knocked on the door. He had decided against an advance call for fear that she might not want to see him. He thought it best to catch her cold.
Meredith lived in a rural area at the end of a gravel road, just one of two houses on the entire route. The driveway was rather ill-defined, just two dirt ruts in the ground that cut across the lawn and ended at the front porch. Gus parked near the culvert at the turn-around at the end of the road and waited. Through a thin stand of pine trees he could see the house clearly. An hour passed, and not a single car came or went. The rain started and stopped a dozen times before a twenty-year-old pickup truck finally pulled into the driveway. A woman stepped down and walked up the pathway. She appeared to be in her forties, slim and brunette, right in line with Dex's description. Gus jumped out of his car.
"Mrs. Borge?"
She stopped and turned but did not respond. Her suspicious gaze stopped Gus in his tracks. "Excuse me for bothering you," he said. "But I'd like to talk to you about your daughter."
"I don't have a daughter."
"I know. I'm sorry about her death."
"You are? Why?"
"My name's Gus Wheatley. My wife disappeared two weeks ago today. Your daughter and I were involved in some discussions about her possible whereabouts before she died."
Her stare was ice-cold. "I have nothing to say to you." "Mrs. Borge, please."
Gus followed her halfway up the front steps, but her glare only intensified. "Get off my property before I call the police."
"It's important that we talk. Please, just a minute of your time."
She unlocked the door. For an instant it seemed she was about to say something, more nervous than hostile. "Please," said Gus.
"Do us both a favor. Go away." She stepped inside and slammed the door, leaving Gus alone on the front porch.