Chapter 12

Sarah awakened with a start. Gabriel gazed at her with his luminous green eyes and then yawned indifferently. He swished his tail back and forth a couple of times before returning to his sleepy world with a soft purring.

In her dreams, the man in black had somehow returned to life and had been chasing her through an endless hallway. Sarah knew someone was in her house. Their movement had awakened her from her sleep. A light metallic noise came from the kitchen as pots and pans tapped together. What were the thieves looking for? Why did the water run in the sink?

Sarah reached over into the nightstand and withdrew a small pistol. She made sure it was loaded and slipped up out of bed. She threw her robe around her slim body and moved with caution to the door. She sidestepped a floorboard she knew would creak and alert the intruder. They were rifling her cabinets. She thought of the man in black and drew her robe tighter. She proceeded with caution out of her room and down the stairway. She held her breath for fear of discovery. Then the smell floated up to her. It appeared so strange and yet familiar that she let her guard down slightly.

"Sarah?" called a soft, feminine voice from within the kitchen.

Sarah, both relieved and frustrated, disarmed the pistol and put it in the pocket of her robe. Of all the hell she had been through the last couple of days, she sure did not need that woman around. She fixed her hair and made sure her robe closed properly. She descended the final steps and investigated the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sarah walked into the kitchen.

"That is no way to greet your mother." Rebecca Jenkins looked up from the pan of bacon she fried. "I came because your friend sounded worried about you and called me."

"Juan?" Sarah reached up and withdrew her favorite coffee mug from a cabinet near the entry. "Did he let you in?"

"He's such a sweet little man." Rebecca seemed determined to stay in a good mood. "He's done a wonderful job on your garden."

Sarah poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the breakfast table. "I appreciate you coming out on that long drive, but you did not need to."

"I love the drive," Rebecca added the final addition to a pan of gravy and took biscuits out of the oven. "Besides that, you needed me."

"Mother..."

"Oh, no, no, no!" Rebecca chided. "Let's eat a wholesome breakfast, and then we can talk." The fifty-two-year-old woman set out the dishes on the table for their breakfast.

"I'd rather be alone." Sarah hated to be blunt. She almost hoped to see a look of hurt affect her mother. "I just lost a close friend."

"Yes, I know." Rebecca's voice filled with sympathy. "Yolanda was devoted to you." Her eyes showed compassion, not hurt. "She thought highly of you."

Sarah looked up at Rebecca in disbelief. "How could you know that?"

"Yolanda wrote to me on several occasions." Rebecca laid open two biscuits on Sarah's plate and ladled a substantial portion of gravy over them. "I must say that I was impressed. I believed that you would go on with that stony heart of yours and ruin everyone that you met. She was proud of you."

"Proud!" Sarah stared into the cup of coffee. “I showed her how to depend upon herself and not others."

Rebecca smirked. "Humph!"

"What?" Sarah asked sourly.

"Tried to compel her into an image of you?" Rebecca heaped eggs and bacon onto her daughter's plate and then began to fill her own. "A bitter, self-centered, haughty young Sarah." She sat down. "What you hadn't figured on was she grew to love you."

"Mother...please..." Sarah bowed her head into her upturned palms. She did not want to recall the image of the young woman that had recently died.

"I am sorry," Rebecca said truthfully. "I just wanted you to know that not everybody in the world is out to hurt Sarah Jenkins. Some of them need her." She leaned forward and tried to take one of Sarah's hands.

Sarah withdrew them and quickly regretted it. "I am sorry, too. I just cannot forget..."

"You have got to put the past behind you." Rebecca picked up her fork. "You cannot just let it keep eating away at you."

"You are the one to be talking!" Sarah's formidable anger suddenly flared.

Rebecca controlled herself. She had suffered a long time from her daughter's outbursts of rage. She had learned how to steel herself against them and how to retaliate.

"I admit I made many mistakes in the past." Rebecca looked Sarah in the eyes. "I do not need you to keep reminding me of them."

Sarah worked her jaw nervously. She had never met her match in anyone, but her mother, a notable opponent, gained strength with each encounter. It was disconcerting. The woman picked up a mound of eggs with her fork and ate them without flinching away from her stare. Sarah glanced back down at her plate, unwillingly breaking the tension between them.

"So where were you last night?" Rebecca asked to change the subject. "Juan nearly lost his head in worry."

"How long have you been here?" Sarah tried to think about eating, but her mind went back to Yolanda.

"About seven last night." Rebecca glanced up at Sarah. "I am surprised you did not notice my car or me. I noticed that a cute police officer dropped you off in his truck. Where is your car?"

Sarah ignored the implication that Rebecca had suggested about Officer Haskell. "It is a long story. I had a rough night. It ended with me getting my car vandalized. The police officer was kind enough to bring me home. What is left of my car is going to be put in the shop for several days...maybe even a week."

"Well, it's a good thing that I did come on down," Rebecca added with good humor.

"I could rent a car or get a taxi."

Rebecca sighed. "There you go again. You will never let anyone help you at all."

Sarah grimaced. "And there you go again, putting me on another guilt trip."

"There would not be any feelings of guilt if there was nothing to feel guilty about." Rebecca quipped. "Can we try to put the past where it belongs? I only have one daughter left. I want to help you."

"Do you still feel the same about the preacher?" Sarah reluctantly forked a little of her eggs into her mouth.

"No," Rebecca said with regret. "But you have to understand the position I was in."

"I do not have to understand anything." Sarah stared out the window at her garden. "I had never lied to you about anything before then. Nor have I lied to you since. Why did you not believe me?"

Rebecca detected the hurt in Sarah's voice. Subtle and bitter, it touched the motherly instincts in her heart. She knew the painful secret her daughter harbored, eating away at her heart and soul. The young woman needed to get the pain out if she wanted to live again.

"I believe you now," Rebecca whispered. "You were a young girl then. You were going through adolescence. You were jealous of your older sister. It was natural for me to conclude that you were acting despite her."

"When I needed you most..." Sarah wiped at a tear with tenacity. "You turned your back on me. You sided with the town when the trial came, and I was portrayed to be a slut. A thirteen-year-old slut! You do not know the hurt I suffered due to that!"

"Yes, I do." Rebecca sought Sarah's hand and held it firmly. "I was a stupid, hard-hearted bitch who thought more of my position in the community than of my family. I have lived these last ten years in misery, with the guilt of the knowledge of what I have done to you. I was too blind to have noticed what had happened to you."

"I was nothing but trash to that town," Sarah said bitterly. "My friends left me. I was the butt of every boy's hormone-frenzied sex joke. My life was ruined by everyone I trusted. I had to leave."

"I do not blame you." Rebecca tightened her grip on Sarah's hand. "I just want us to start over. I want you to find love in your heart again."

"I cannot mother." Sarah pulled her hand away and got up from the table. "You know what happens when I love someone. Either they turn against me and ridicule my life, or they die of some horrible disease that steals all their dignity." She shook her head, steeling herself against the iron claw, which crept up the base of her neck. "That is why I cannot love anyone anymore. It's better for me this way."

"Sarah..." Rebecca tried to reach out to Sarah again.

Sarah dodged out of the way. "Please, mother. Do not do this. You can stay until after the funeral if you like. Just do not bring up the past again, and then go back to that town. You can use the bedroom on the northeast side of the house. Sheets are in the central hall closet." She clasped the palm of her hand against her forehead. "I have to go take my medicine. I will be upstairs in bed if anyone comes."

Rebecca bit her lip. "Has your doctor ever found a reason for your migraines?"

Sarah shook her head and staggered out of the kitchen. "There is no medical reason for them. She believes that stress or emotional strain causes them. When the funeral is passed, they should diminish."

Rebecca watched her daughter with significant worry as the woman staggered out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She found she had no appetite for the rest of the breakfast she had prepared. After Sarah had left, she gathered up everything and put them in dishes to store in the refrigerator. Then she sat back down at the table and began to drink some more of her coffee, her eyes darting to the unseen upstairs room every time Sarah let out a moan of agony. Part of her wanted to go up there and do something about the woman's suffering. She knew she was unwanted, but the instinct overpowered her. Finally, she pushed the coffee aside and started for the stairs.

******

When Sarah awakened again in mid-morning, she sat up and drew her knees up to her chin. Her mother came up and gave her a neck rub, not long after she had barely climbed the stairs to her room. Not even a hint of the migraine remained. Her neck felt relaxed. Rebecca stood at the window.

"How long have you been there?" Sarah swung her legs around and stood up out of bed.

"Since you fell asleep." Rebecca smiled wanly.

"Thank you for the neck rub." Sarah walked over to her closet to pick out a suit of clothing. "I might have to hire you."

"I charge twenty-five a rub," Rebecca said with amusement.

"Well worth it."

"I will go downstairs while you change."

"Mother..." Sarah glanced over at the woman. "I am sorry about this morning. My actions were uncalled-for."

"Do not worry about it." Rebecca smiled. "I will be downstairs."

As she fished through her wardrobe, Sarah wondered why she had blown up so terribly. She realized her mother was right. Although the past stood unchangeable, the future could be. As she bent over to pick out a pair of shoes, the stuffed cow caught her eye and her heart. It sat in the decorator chair where she had placed it the night before, staring at her with its comical oversized eyes.

Sarah frowned at a puzzling thought. Something did not seem right about it. Its comical black plastic eyes gleamed in the soft light coming through the window. She absently picked out a pair of shoes and set everything on the end of the bed, then walked over to the cow.

She tried to form a picture in her mind about the day she bought the cow.

The cow had been on display at a Sears store in the mall. Yolanda had gone shopping with Sarah that day. It had been when Sarah had first taken the young girl under her wing and bought her some new clothes to start her new life. The cow sat in a Christmas toy display in one of the windows facing into the interior of the mall. They went inside the store to look for more of the cows. They found Yolanda's cow at an aisle set aside for stuffed animals. Yolanda appeared elated when Sarah picked it up.

Sarah became aware of the difference. The cow she had bought for Yolanda had a wide-open mouth with a tongue sticking out. The mouth was now sewn shut. She picked it up and studied it carefully. She could see pink inside behind the careful black stitching. Caught in the sunlight, something gold gleamed inside the mouth.

Sarah reached for a letter opener on her dresser. It made a poor stitch remover, but her fingers worked quickly al the thread held the cow's mouth closed. It took her a few minutes to get the mouth open, but she finally succeeded. The gold that had gleamed was a brass key. Bewildered, she withdrew the key.

Sarah did not have to study it long to know what type of key it was. It belonged to a safe deposit box Yolanda had told her about before. Sarah wondered why the girl would hide the key in the mouth of the cow of all places. She remembered the strange man from the night before, and Yolanda's dying words. Did he belong to the people Yolanda only referred to as 'them? She surmised he must have been searching for the key. Why else would he have turned the apartment upside down?

Sarah slipped the key inside of her purse and quickly got dressed. After slipping into her shoes, she hurried for the door. As she fumbled through her purse for her keys, she remembered the fate of her car and cursed herself in the process. That left her with only two options. She knew that Juan already had been through a terrible ordeal, nixing her first option. Her only other option sat on the couch in the parlor, stitching a needlepoint calendar.

Sarah started to ask her mother to drive her up to the bank when she noticed a dark blue Ford pickup pulling into her driveway. She finished the last few steps of the stairs and crossed the foyer to the front door. Rebecca looked up from her needlework briefly to discern who came up the steps. Her polite smile turned to surprised delight when she saw the handsome young man stepping up. Sarah opened the door before he could knock and then took several nervous steps backward. Phillip Haskell looked even more enticing out of uniform.

"Hello, Ms. Jenkins." Phillip took off his cowboy hat before entering Sarah's home. "I trust you slept well."

"Like a baby." Rebecca set aside her needlework to rise and greet the young man.

"Mother..." Sarah tried to suppress the smile that flirted with her features as she introduced the two of them. "This is Officer Haskell. He brought me home last night."

"You can call me Phillip. I came to see if you were all right and to determine if there is anything that I can do for you." Phillip smiled with his teeth too white.

That smile and his charm threw Sarah off-track. She could not believe herself. "I am okay." Then, to regain control of herself, she added carefully, "I do need a ride to the bank, Woodside State Bank, if it is not too much trouble."

Phillip seemed well pleased and a bit surprised. "No! No trouble at all. I would be delighted to drive you to the bank. Will your mother be coming along, too?"

Rebecca gave a smile only intended for Sarah's interpretation. "I think I will stay here and tidy up a few things, then get started on dinner."

Sarah cleared her throat and turned to Phillip, took him by the arm, and started to walk out the door. "I need to get to the bank right away."

"Have to make a deposit to cover a check?" Phillip quipped humorously.

"No."

Sarah stared back over her shoulder at her mother who stood on the porch with a knowing smile. She made a face and shook her head vehemently. No way was she going gah-gah over the police officer. She simply took advantage of a polite man.

"I have to go inside the vault." Sarah turned her attention back to Phillip.

"That might be a little trouble." Phillip opened the door for her to help her in, but she pushed his hand away. She was one mean filly, but he determined to break her as gently as he could. "All the banks I know of are closed on Sundays."

Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She had a generous sum of money in various accounts at Woodside. She and Lawrence Meyers, the bank president, were on a first-name basis. She knew he would leave at a moment's notice if she needed him. Under the circumstances, her needs far outweighed monetary reasons. When he answered the call, she only had to say that Yolanda had passed on, and she needed to get the young woman's business affairs in order.

An hour later, Sarah and Phillip entered the private bank, nestled in a grove of trees with a park-like setting. The surrounding neighborhood comprised of smaller, older frame homes that tiny grandmothers or grandfathers or young families mostly occupied. Some houses were well cared for by their owners. Others were falling to the effects of time and neglect.

A pleasant atmosphere around the bank made it attractive to Sarah. She did not mind the tiny independent branch serving the needs of a small community. She liked the quiet, friendly people who worked there. They often went out of their way to serve the needs of their clients much the same way as Mr. Meyers had done for Sarah that afternoon.

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Meyers," Sarah stated politely as she made her way to the vault. "Are you sure it wasn't too much trouble?"

"Not at all." Mr. Meyers had to search through his pocket for a key. "You rescued me from a terrible lecture from my mother-in-law. Ain't this something? The locks on the vault are electronic codes, but you still have to have a key to enter the main room."

"Would it be all right for me to wait out here in the lobby?" Phillip already spotted a comfortable chair.

"You will have to." Mr. Meyers chortled. "Only two people are allowed beyond this door…the owner of the deposit box and a senior officer of the financial institution. That would be me, here."

The door soon opened, Sarah went in with the shorter man, apprehensive about what the box might contain, however, she did not allow it to show outward. Phillip had busied himself with a magazine. Lawrence Meyers always respected the confidentiality of his clients. He prudently kept his eyes averted away from whatever matters belonged to Yolanda and her power of attorney, Sarah Jenkins. The only intrusion present, the security camera filmed every move the two of them performed.

Sarah opened the box and frowned in bewildered curiosity. There resided but a single envelope of thick yellow paper with the title Sarah Jenkins, Personal and Confidential, typed across it in all capital letters. A lesser item existed within the envelope that seemed firm and about five inches in diameter. Sarah did not have to guess what it was. She slipped the envelope into her purse and closed the box.

"Thank you again, Lawrence."

"I am sorry to hear about that dear girl." Mr. Meyers practiced professional condolence with expertise as he led Sarah out of the secured area. "She was such a sweet girl."

"Are you ready?" Sarah asked Phillip as she left the vault.

"Sure." Phillip stood up.

Sarah could not help noticing the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt. "I need to get back home."

"Goodbye, Sarah." Mr. Meyers escorted the couple to the doorway and out to their truck. "Let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I will send flowers to the service."

"I will have Juan call you with the location in the morning. Goodbye." Sarah stepped back up into the pickup and closed the door.

Mr. Meyers returned to the building and smiled at the couple. He waved goodbye to them as they drove away. He turned away from the doors after he had locked them and went over to his office. He opened the door and turned on a light. He looked back to the glass front door and then retrieved a telephone directory from a drawer, an insignificant one in which he had no trouble finding the number he wanted. With a nervous finger, he began to dial. It rang several times before someone finally answered.

"Sarah Jenkins has the disk." He grinned nervously. "She doesn’t suspect a thing."

******

Phillip turned down a side street that ran in behind the Smith County Fair Grounds. The sight remained empty of people at that time of the year. Late in the fall, when the heat diminished, the people would begin to gather around for the shows and rides. Sarah, lost in her thoughts, paid no mind to the brief excursion he planned. A small park sat on the other side of the highway behind the fairgrounds. The street ended up at a barricaded stop overlooking a small lake. A little-known park, all but the oldest residents living close to it, had forgotten about it.

Only when he pulled to a stop did Sarah rouse from her trance-like state. "Where are we?"

"Dodson Park." Phillip killed the engine.

"Is there a reason we are here?"

Phillip gazed out at the lake. "I like to come here sometimes. The ducks and the squirrels come right up to you. It helps me to get through my tough times... I did tell you that I live alone?"

"Sometimes it's better that way." Sarah took the time to look around. "It is beautiful around here. Why have I never heard about it? I know just about everything about Tyler."

Phillip shrugged his shoulders. "This park is a magical place that only a few people know about. You know, of course. It remained in the care of an elderly man when his widowed mother died. She owned that mansion high up on that hill. It was all covered in vines when I was a kid. If you did not know a house existed there, you would have presumed you were entering part of the forest. Some financial wizard now owns the mansion and has been cleaning it up. If you look closely you can observe one of the roof gables through the overgrowth."

"Fascinating," Sarah whispered. "I wish I had discovered it before he did. This would have been a wonderful estate." She frowned in curiosity. "What is this guy's name? Maybe I might know him."

"I only know the family name that went up over the driveway. It may have been Lorraine, but I am not sure. His wife died a few years ago by suicide. It is only his daughter and him up there. They are reclusive. I do not believe anyone has ever seen the daughter." Phillip grasped the steering wheel. "Do you want to get out for a moment?"

"No." Sarah looked down at her purse. "I need to get back to the house."

"Just for a minute." Phillip insisted as he opened his door. "You should not miss this park."

Sarah felt uneasy. "Look... I appreciate what you are trying to do for me. My mother has already attempted this morning. I must tell you, though; it is not going to work. I can be a terrible bitch at times."

"Come on." Phillip urged as he stepped out of the pickup. "Notice...the ducks trust me. You can, too."

Sarah smiled at the waddling fowl as they came forward to greet the young man. Phillip reached into the back of his pickup and pulled out two loaves of bread. He had been prepared all along to bring her to that park. She shook her head with a smile of disbelief. She shouldered her purse and opened the door. Phillip smiled at her. She could not help but smile back. Walking around the front of the pickup, she stifled a chuckle at the quacking the ducks emitted as several of them struggled for a single portion of bread.

Phillip handed her a loaf, and she could no longer resist. Soon she squatted and held forth a piece of bread to let a bold duck snatch it from her fingertips. She chuckled with delight like a small child. The chuckle surprised her, but for the first time in a long time, she made no effort to suppress it.

******

"Wait." Sarah stopped Phillip on her doorstep.

Phillip halted in his footsteps. He had followed her up the driveway, feeling awkward. Sarah had begged him to wait at the pickup parked out at the curb, but that had made him feel awkward. She had changed slightly in the afternoon. The change made him feel better about himself.

Phillip Haskell had lived a lonely life since leaving his mother's home after high school. He had never been immensely popular in high school. He had been overweight and pimply. The height of his social life was Saturday evening bible studies under the amber lamps of his mother's parlor. A father had never been in his life to teach him the ways of manhood. He had never learned how to make himself presentable to girls or how to ask one to dance.

Phillip’s change in luck occurred when he enlisted in the army. During Desert Storm, he learned how to be a police officer by serving in the military police. He had seen the president twice during his service, something that filled his mother's heart with pride. The army had done for him what she could not. It changed him from a weak-spirited, obese boy into a man. It gave him a sense of direction and a desire to protect people.

Even though Phillip had a new career and a new body by the army, no one could overcome the barrier that kept him insecure. Even to that day he and Sarah had spent in the park, Phillip had always felt inept around women. He woke up every morning and looked in the mirror for the pimples that no longer pockmarked his face or the greasy white rolls of flesh that had swathed his gut. The fear of rejection remained there.

However, Sarah seemed different. Penny had seen the night before. After their mother had died, she had been playing matchmaker for him. Time was running out, she would say. On several occasions, she had tried to set him up on blind dates. He would always cop-out at the last moment, finding some excuse to stay at home. Penny had almost given up. However, the night before she had noticed something between the two of them. Something unmistakable existed between the two of them. They were both attracted, even though Sarah fought it. I have an eye for these things; Penny had told him that morning. You should talk to Sarah; she had urged.

At first, Phillip had been reluctant. His fear of rejection seemed to multiply tenfold in his route from his house to his truck. He did not even know how to approach Sarah, let alone show her he felt attracted to her. However, he felt glad he decided to take the chance. She opened a little to him, which was a good thing. He knew her hatred for men from her writings. To show some sort of friendly attitude toward him caused his confidence to soar.

Sarah glanced into the kitchen window. She let out a little chuckle and then beckoned him up onto the front porch. "She will be so surprised I did not turn you out."

Sarah started to reach for the door handle when the door opened before her. Rebecca had been waiting for them behind the door. She had watched the pickup approaching from up the street. The third-floor turret offered a commanding view of the entire city of Tyler. She had hurried back downstairs to offer a surprise of her own.

"I wondered when the two of you would be getting back." Rebecca smiled at Phillip as he stepped up beside Sarah. "Dinner is waiting."

"Mother!" Sarah reprimanded. "You did not need..."

Phillip broke in quickly. "What did you fix? It smells wonderful."

"I had to go to the market to get a few things. My daughter only has rabbit food in her pantry." Rebecca ushered them into the dining room. "Where did you kids go? I had enough time to make a meatloaf, potatoes Au gratin, green bean casserole, and peach cake."

Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Peach cake? That is not fair."

"It all sounds good to me." Phillip already sat eating cake in his mind. "Why is it not fair?"

"When Sarah was a little girl, there were times when her life seemed a little hard for her. When her feelings were hurt or when she lost out to another student for a school contest, I baked her peach cakes." Rebecca smiled affectionately. "I also baked it for her when she scored great achievements in school. It was a sort of reward or consolation. However, you looked at it..."

"Peach cake is the way to my heart." Sarah had almost recovered from her surprise. "How did you know?"

"A mother always knows." Rebecca turned and led them into the dining room.

"That is exactly what my sister said this morning." Phillip followed immediately behind Sarah.

"Nobody gets any ideas," Sarah warned. "I do not like being pushed into something I am not ready for."

"Okay." Phillip and Rebecca replied in unison, conceding reluctantly to Sarah's command.

They all sat down to dinner. Sarah felt conscious of constant glances thrown at her by both Phillip and Rebecca, but she tried to dismiss them. She wondered what might be on the disk she had in her purse. She began to feel an urgent need to insert it in her word processor and find out what information it contained.

The afternoon wore on into the evening before they finished their meal. Sarah felt unpleasant about asking Phillip to leave for the night, but glad that his shift began soon. Since he needed to leave, she did not have to. She escorted him to the front porch and thanked him for the wonderful day. He did not get away without asking to see her again. She capitulated in an awkward gesture, wondering to herself what in the hell she got into.

Rebecca busied herself with tidying up the house after Phillip left. She was content to let Sarah go to her study. There was still needlework to be finished in the parlor with which she could complete her evening.

Sarah turned on the computer and closed the door to her study. It felt awkward to close the door. She normally had the run of her house. There was never anyone to snoop around what she did. When Juan came around to take care of her garden, he never intruded into her work the way some people do who know a writer and wonder about their latest creations.

She sat down at the desk and took the envelope out of her purse. She cut open one end and let the disk slide out, then inserted it into the drive and pressed enter. There passed a few seconds while the machine read the disk. The screen began to display a message that Yolanda had written.

Dearest Sarah,

I dearly hope you are the one to receive this disk and read it. I had no computer to protect the data that I wanted to, so I found an obsolete word processor like yours. It has been difficult for me these last six months. I had to watch every move I made. I never told you about the Cult of the Blood Rose. I had hoped I would not have to. It would have been better for you if you had never known. I have had no one else to turn to. I can trust no one. Those people I do trust end up betraying me, except for you and Juan. I guess the best thing to do...for you to understand what is happening...is to tell you everything from the beginning.

It began when I was a young girl, several years before we met. I had no family. Before I met Enrique, I was given over into the care of a white woman in south Texas. It turned out she was a member of an enormous cult. You would never have known of their existence if I had not revealed them to you. They are secretive. The people of this cult called themselves the Cult of the Blood Rose. The leader is a dark, shadowy man. I have never seen him close enough to see any of his features, but I do know he is a man. The woman who had cared for me prepared me for a strange rite. Though they never chose me, I witnessed the horror on many, occasions.

The leader calls himself William Morgan. Their entire religion is evil, filled with people who thrive on carnal sex and human sacrifice. Children were often used as tools to whet their insatiable appetites. It was how Enrique discovered me. When he asked for me from my foster mother, I was only nine. I was never free from him until the day he died.

There were times we met weekly. Drugs were rampant. News continuously spread around about the little ones who bled to death. I cannot tell you how terrible it was amid all those people. I always tried to hide my heart. You could not listen to those young whimpers without knowing what they were going through.

The leader believes he has magical powers. He orders the butchery of children to serve his needs. I have seen some of what he calls power, but they are the result of cheap tricks he uses to influence his followers. There was the one time, which I must not tell you about, that something for which I can find no explanation for occurred.

They are evil Sarah. Pure evil. One evening, long after Enrique died, they forced me to go back with them. I called the police when they were coming. I did not think to call you. Perhaps it is better. The men who showed up at my door were in uniforms from our own police department. They took me back to that place where the evil sacrifices happen. I cannot accurately describe it or its location. They usually work under cover of night. That last time I was there, Morgan seemed extremely agitated. The people even seemed restless as they grunted and rutted about on the floor.

I recall the moment as clearly as yesterday. The cave suddenly darkened as the young boys entered for the sacrifice. I thought it was strange because I could still see the flames burning in the torches. They were just like black fire.

The one little boy cried. They had already taken the knife to him, and he bled at the wrist. They did not attempt the slit down his back yet. He seemed to glow. I do not know how else to describe it. There seemed to be a light focused solely upon him. How beautiful and angelic he appeared to me. It stunned everyone but me. I knew what I had to do.

Morgan seemed terrified by him at first. I do not understand that either, due to what he did to those little boys and then to the girls. Forgive me, but my stomach turns at the thought. I wonder if I should spare you the horror of it all, but then I remember Tommy and know that you must hear everything if you are going to help him.

Every few months Morgan calls together the people that follow him. You would not believe the extent of his followers. I have witnessed movie stars and politicians at his gatherings. There have been many foreigners, too. His reach goes around the world. He believes he reaches new levels of power each time he performs a ceremony. As I may have already told you, the ceremony starts as a mass orgy and culminates in the sacrifice of some six pairs of children. The little boys... I know what you have gone through in your life. You never told me in person, but I read your books and know the preacher raped you.

Sarah gasped and sat back from the desk. How could Yolanda have guessed? Not an easy thing to live with, she worked doggedly to suppress the secret to keep it from discovery. She began to wonder if she had been that transparent in her writings. How many of her other fans would discover inadvertently her preacher raped her. The prospect disheartened her. She needed a drink.

After pouring herself a shot of brandy from a diminutive bottle she kept behind a section of books in a glass case, she sat back down at the processor. Why had Yolanda never confronted her about it? After contemplating the minor problem for a moment; obviously, Yolanda seemed the only one who knew, or else there would have been a flood of sympathy letters from her fans; she began reading the text again.

I never wanted to remind you of that, the same as you never wanted to remind me of my life with Enrique. The priests skin the little boys alive. Morgan saves their skin and after the children are used, the men give the children to evil beings that eat human flesh. I am sorry if I have offended you. Someone had to know about what happened to those poor children.

The night that strange phenomenon happened with little Tommy, God spoke to me. In a whisper, He told me to use the confusion to sneak up and grab the child by the hand. I was so frightened, but I also knew that I had to save that boy's life. I ran as quickly as I could to him. After I gathered him into my arms, we rushed out of the cave. The evil creatures chased after us. It was only by the grace of God we escaped. We were in the middle of the woods in a part of Texas I did not know. The boy held tight to me as I went. They attempted to follow, but the dogs they hunted us with were confused. God covered our scent.

For three days, I carried that little boy through farms and small towns. I knew that I had to go west. God provided food and clothing when we needed it and a way to avoid detection. I finally reached Dallas. I left him at the doorstep of an orphanage. It was the last time that I saw him.

I went back to the cave a few months later. The same police officers that had picked me up before had returned me there once again. They knew that I rescued the little boy. I learned his last name. Morgan. Tommy Morgan. They tried to get me to tell them where I had sent him, but I could not betray him. I let them beat me and torture me until they gave up, but I would not give in. They sought to survey me after they let me go. I was of no use to them anymore at their ceremonies.

I knew they were watching me, and perhaps they are still watching me as I write this or you as you read it. For some reason, Tommy Morgan is important to them. He will be important to you as well. When you meet him, you will understand what I am trying to say, and why I have entrusted you with his safety. You must go immediately to Dallas and get him. Then the two of you must go into hiding. Likely, they are already following you. I would go to him, but the virus has weakened me too much. I would not be fit enough to protect him. Go now. Please. This is my last favor to ask of you. God bless you, Sarah.

Love always, Yolanda

P.S. Delete the information on this disk and shred it.

Sarah sat back from the processor and stared at the screen for a long moment. It seemed obvious that Yolanda had written the information in a hurry. Many questions floated around in Sarah's mind that needed answers. Yolanda had been too unsure in her description of the people, especially Tommy Morgan.

Sarah considered it foolhardy to drive to Dallas in search of a little boy she knew nothing about. How would they perceive her? It was ludicrous. Yolanda has seemed urgent though. Even in her dying words in the hospital. Sarah promised to go look for the boy. She needed another shot of brandy, but she knew it would be wrong for her. Quietly she stood up and brought up the menu on the word processor, moved the cursor to delete, and pressed enter. The screen went blank.

Sarah turned away from the processor and opened the door. The scent of her mother's cooking still lingered in the hall. The pleasant scent reminded her of a childhood long gone. Life had been so much simpler then. There were times she would have given anything to go back to those times, back to the days when she would play with her older sister through the hallways of their mother's house in their stocking feet, dashing with fool-hearted speed toward the landing, then sliding on the wood floor polished as slick as glass. Sometimes they fell. Sometimes they kept perfect balance. Never did they give up. The slide seemed too much fun, even when Mother reprimanded the two of them. Where was Elizabeth now?

"Mother?" Sarah called out. "Are you still awake?"

"In the parlor, dear," Rebecca answered.

Sarah walked down the hallway gazing at her painting she had recently acquired. Out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention. She reacted too slowly to realize what had been at the front door. It seemed shadow-like. She wondered if the overactive imagination made her think she had seen a prowler. She approached the door cautiously.

The front porch sat dark, shadowed by the night. With no moon by which to distinguish, she carefully peeped through the glass but could see nothing. Cautiously, she reached for the light switch. She thought she had glimpsed a shadow move in the side window when she had been gazing at the painting. She did not know if an intruder waited just on the other side of the door. For all she knew, there might have been a pistol aimed directly for her gut. She bit her lip and flipped the switch. A small calico cat flinched in the sudden appearance of light and then pounced on a dying rat it had hunted. Sarah sighed in relief.

"Oh, what a pretty little cat," Rebecca exclaimed from behind Sarah. "No wonder why you have no rats. That little one has been busy for you."

Sarah turned away from the door and walked into the living room. Rebecca walked up to the door to get a better look at the cat, and then followed her daughter into the living room. Sarah sat down in her favorite chair and stared at a picture of Elizabeth. Rebecca drew up a chair nearby.

"Something troubling you, Sarah?" Of course, a mother already knew the answer to that question.

"Some old memories, Mother." Sarah picked up the picture of Elizabeth. "It hurt her, too."

"Yes." Rebecca clapped her hands together in an unspoken prayer. "She believed that you were out to take him away from her."

"William Morgan never loved her. I do not think he could have ever loved anyone." Sarah traced Elizabeth's face with her finger. Traces of information from the disk were going through her mind. "I just wish things had never happened the way they did. She would still be with us today."

"Do not blame yourself." Rebecca stood up and started pacing. "If there is any blame to be put upon someone, it should be upon me. I arranged their marriage. When I discovered she had become pregnant out of wedlock, I knew the child would be damned if she did not marry the father. She did not want to tell me who the father was. The preacher finally came forward when I had almost pushed her too far. He admitted for her they had already talked about getting married. They were already promised to each other in the eyes of God. I was so hypocritical and blind I regarded it as a blessing, the two of them were going to be married. I looked past the transgression and glorified it as a commitment between the two of them. They had already been married in the eyes of God. It seemed only natural for them to go ahead with the marriage for legal purposes. A wedding is only a symbol of the union between man and wife. The union itself represents a legitimate marriage.

"Elizabeth had already grown to adulthood when they were married in church. I still treated her like a child, though. I imposed my ways upon their home. I was wrong. Then when you came forward and accused him of rape, Elizabeth fell apart. She had always been jealous of your beauty and your success in school. She told me in the time of the trial she had married William Morgan more out of a rebellion against you than for love. She did not know the monster he could be. She only perceived you were still trying to destroy her." Rebecca sat back down in her chair. "I was never a particularly good mother to the two of you. I should have recognized the problems that I created when I raised both of you. It is an unfortunate fact that I did not. Our lives might have been much better. And Elizabeth would be here with us, today."

"I never knew she was jealous," Sarah whispered. "I never would have testified against him if I had known."

"You did what was right," Rebecca said with force. "If you had never testified back then, none of the other girls would have come forward." She gently took the picture away from Sarah and replaced it on its table. "If the town and that jury and one little girl's mother had listened to that child back then and known the truth in her words, ten other girls would not have received the same fate."

"Tell me again about the wreck." Sarah struggled to keep her tears under control.

Rebecca drew in a deep breath. "There is not much to tell. It started a year after they left town. Elizabeth said they could not live with us anymore. The trial had been too painful and damaging to William's soul. He could no longer lead a congregation in our town. A small church in Baton Rouge accepted him as their pastor. Not long after they had moved there, they were driving down to New Orleans to pick up some supplies. The police report said he lost control of the car during a rainstorm as they crossed the Mississippi. The car plunged into the water. The bridge railing decapitated Elizabeth when thrown from the car."

There existed a moment of silence before Sarah picked up the conversation again. She tried to imagine what her sister might have appeared like ten years later. Would the jealous feelings still be there?

"Did you see the car?"

"No. It sank into the mud at the bottom of the river. They pulled it up a few months later and found whiskey bottles all over the floor. William had been inebriated when he died."

"What about the baby?" Sarah leaned forward. "Did they ever find it?"

"The infant’s body could have been washed out to sea. The river was at flood stage, flowing in a torrent. It was only by chance they found what remained of Elizabeth. She had been caught in the limbs of a fallen tree."

"Did Elizabeth ever tell you the sex of her child?"

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “You know I never knew the day or the hour the child had been born. I only learned the child had been born due to an opened car seat and a few tiny toys in the back seat of their car. She was so secretive about the child that even her friends in her new church never knew about it. They reckon the seat and toys might have been there to remind her about the one she might have lost."

Sarah stood up and went to her window. "My friend Yolanda told me of a little boy in an orphanage in Dallas. She seemed to think that I would be interested in him. She also said I would know him when I saw him." She turned back to her mother. "There were some bizarre incidents that Yolanda told me about on a disk she had saved for me; statements that sound like they belong in a fictional horror novel. Nothing had struck me so powerfully, though, as when she insisted I go after him. The little boy's name...is Tommy Morgan.”

Rebecca fell silent as she took in the importance of what Sarah had just revealed. Elizabeth never told her anything about her child. She wondered, if it were possible, that she could have a grandchild out there. She cupped a hand over her mouth to suppress any noise she might have uttered. What would he look like?

Sarah watched her mother’s reactions closely. “She also mentioned William Morgan was part of some underground cult.”

"Alive? Now?" Rebecca grew nervous. "Could it be possible that someone else had been driving the car? They never found Elizabeth’s head, either."

"After all that has happened in this one weekend," Sarah turned back to the window, "I would not discount anything."