"Right," she said, as if he were always right. "I did it."
Blechman thanked his friends and opened the floor to questions from the audience, which took another twenty minutes. Most people asked legitimate questions. A few were cynics who just wanted to rattle him. Friend or foe, Blechman treated each of them with respect. His message never wavered. He never lost his cool. It was impressive. The man could talk.
Felicia explained his gift. "He's better connected to the source than you or I."
Blechman smiled modestly and laughed it off. He checked his watch. Their hour was up. He returned to the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope this has been more than just a form of entertainment for you. For me, Tom, Felicia, and many, many others, it is a lifelong cause. As we've stated all along, we do not recruit members. We leave it up to each of you to decide for yourself whether you want to take that big first step. If anyone is interested, we are having a retreat this weekend. We leave Friday night and return Sunday. It's not a pleasure trip. There are some cabins in the mountains. It's cold, but there are wood-burning stoves and plenty of blankets. There's no fast food, only what nature provides. It's about getting back to the source. The purpose isn't for you to learn more about us. It's a chance to learn more about yourself. We'd love to see you there. Thank you all for coming."
Blechman left the room to a warm but not overwhelming ovation. A few people didn't applaud at all. They headed straight for the exits, shaking their heads. Others were more intrigued. They milled about the exit, taking more pamphlets and asking questions of the girl at the door. She had a sign-up list for people who wanted to receive additional information in the mail. Several people signed. She also had videotapes for sale, for those who wanted to relive the studio version of tonight's experience or share it with their friends. Andie bought one, then followed the dozen or so others who drifted toward the front of the room. Tom and Felicia were answering questions. Tom had a clipboard with a sign-up list for the retreat.
Andie made her way toward Felicia, who was talking to a college-age man, telling him what to pack for the weekend and what to expect. Andie waited behind him. When they finished, Andie moved up. Felicia immediately recognized her.
"Hello. You work at Second Chance, don't you?"
Andie smiled shyly. "Yeah. Sorry about what happened."
"That's okay. Mrs. Rankin doesn't think much of our group."
"I'm afraid Mrs. Rankin doesn't think much of anyone."
They shared a laugh. Felicia asked, "What's your name?"
"Kira."
"Well, Kira, are you going to join us this weekend?"
She wanted to appear indecisive, unsure of herself. The kind of person they'd prey upon. "I don't know," she said with a shrug.
"Come on. I think you'd be perfect."
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
Andie blinked demurely. "Will Steve be there?"
Felicia smirked. Another smitten young woman. "Of course."
"Well, what the heck? What do I got to lose?"
"Atta girl. Just check in with Tom. He's got the sign-up list and all the info."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. I'll see you Friday."
Andie drifted toward Tom. He was talking to the old couple Blechman had teased during his presentation. The wife was lukewarm, but the husband was excited and ready to sign up. Andie, too, was excited, though she tried not to show it. She had a sixth sense about Blechman and his teachings. Beth Wheatley's disappearance was taking on a whole new face. She couldn't wait for Friday.
Just remember your name is Kira. *
Chapter Forty-five.
Gus met his investigator for an early Wednesday breakfast. Dex picked Cafe Rene again, his favorite. It was starting to grow on Gus, too. There was something endearing about a place so unpretentious that it printed its dubious review from Seattle Weekly right on the menu: "The food and service are equally bad, but at least the atmosphere's lousy."
Dex gorged himself on a thick slice of Canadian bacon and a mountain of scrambled eggs smothered in ketchup. Gus nibbled on a side order of toast as they hashed out Shirley Borge.
"First thing," said Dex with his mouth full. "You gotta decide just how important Shirley really is."
"There's only one way to read that polygraph. She may not know for certain where Beth is. But she either knows some people or knows something about Beth that gives her a pretty good idea what happened to her."
"Maybe she'll cool off in a day or so and talk to you." "I don't think so."
Dex added even more ketchup. "You could play hardball. Get the FBI to put some pressure on her till she comes back and talks to you. Solitary confinement. Move her to a cell with a backed-up toilet. One thing about life in prison. It can always get worse."
"Those kind of games might just push her further away." "Or maybe she'll just cough up what she knows."