Текст книги "Cold Betrayal"

Автор книги: J. A. Jance

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

33

Ali had turned her phone ringer on silent when she finished speaking to Governor Dunham. During her talk with Patricia and Agnes, Ali had felt the buzz of at least three incoming calls and had ignored them all. Now checking the recent call list, she found two calls from B. and one from Sister Anselm. She called B. first.

“It’s a fine mess you’ve gotten us into this time,” he said. “We have two drones in the air with secure feeds going to both the Department of Public Safety and the FBI. One is keeping an eye on the landing strip until a SWAT team shows up, and the other is working its way around the perimeter of The Family’s property, looking for signs of disturbances that would indicate places where anti-intrusion devices might have been installed.”

“Finding any?”

“Not so far. I’ve also had two phone calls from someone who’s apparently a close personal friend of yours—Governor Virginia Dunham. She tells me you’ve been appointed to be some kind of special deputy.”

“The DNA trail has led to twenty human trafficking victims at last count,” Ali told him. “This joint operation is being launched to forestall any attempt to smuggle one last load of girls out of the country. Governor Dunham wants to roll up the operation before that happens rather than after.”

“Does The Family have any idea about what’s coming?”

“I hope not.”

“I’d prefer a straight-out no,” B. said.

“Believe me,” Ali said. “So would I.”

“Even after your meeting this morning, you’re still worried about Alvarado?”

“Very much so, but my opinion on that score doesn’t carry much weight. The governor insists that since Colorado City is inside his jurisdiction, the sheriff and his department must be part of the program.”

“If someone leaks intel to The Family, then anyone going there tonight may be walking into a trap,” B. said. “Please don’t tell me that you’re going, too.”

Obviously B. Simpson knew Ali far too well. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be on the front lines. I’ll be with the governor as part of a rearguard action. Our job will be to convince members of The Family who are interested in leaving the cult that they are free to do so. Patricia and Agnes, the two Brought Back girls David Upton walked off with last night, have agreed to come along and reason with the others. And guess what? Now, thanks to them, we have a solid lead about the identity of Sister Anselm’s Kingman Jane Doe. I believe DNA comparisons will reveal her to be Anne Lowell, Enid Tower’s birth mother.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you have to be so personally involved?” B. insisted.

“Because Sister Anselm and I are the ones who started this whole saga. We both feel responsible. That’s why she took Enid to Tucson. That’s why I’m going to Colorado City. Don’t worry, B. I’ll be safe.”

“I’d rather you stayed out of it.”

“I still have my bulletproof vest,” Ali said. “It’s in the back of the Cayenne.”

The vest was a relic from her brief stint with the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department.

“Being safe would mean avoiding places where you might need a bulletproof vest,” B. countered. “Still, the more I say, ‘Do not go in the basement,’ the more likely you are to go there anyway, so why don’t I shut up and save my breath? But here’s the deal. If you’re going to be part of a ‘rearguard action,’ so am I.”

Ali started to argue the point but stopped. If B. wasn’t going to try to talk her out of going, she wouldn’t badger him about it, either.

“Okay,” she agreed. “We’re to meet up at the DPS headquarters here in Flagstaff at six P.M.”

“What are you planning to do between now and then?”

“Do we still have that hotel room we paid for earlier this morning?”

“We paid for it by the day not the hour. Why?”

“Because I think I’m going to go there and grab a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Tonight won’t be much better.”

“Do you still have a key?”

“I never had one to begin with.”

“All right. I’ll call and tell them that you’re coming and that you’ve lost your key.”

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus,” Ali said with a laugh. “See you at six.”

“Wait,” B. said. “Don’t you want to hear Stu’s and my news?”

“What news?”

“He managed to collect some images from the security tapes on those ATMs at the casino in Minnesota. He ran them through a facial recognition program, and we now have a good idea of who’s been lifting the money out of Betsy’s accounts.”

“Who?”

“Her daughter-in-law, Sandra.”

Ali sighed. “I wish I could say I was surprised. Have you told Athena?”

“Nope,” B. said. “This is your investigation. As far as I’m concerned, that means delivering the bad news is your job. After all, as you pointed out to me just a moment ago, you’re the one with the bulletproof vest.”

Ali hung up then and dialed Sister Anselm. “I think we have a possible identity on the Kingman Jane Doe.”

Her announcement was greeted by a sharp intake of breath. “No! Are you serious?”

“I am. I have reason to believe Jane Doe is a girl named Anne Lowell who ran away from The Family compound when her daughter, Enid, was three or four.”

“Jane Doe is Enid’s mother?” Sister Anselm’s shock was audible. “However did you learn all this?”

“Last night, after David Upton left the hospital, he drove up to Colorado City and rescued two of Enid’s friends.”

“Agnes and Patricia, the two Brought Back girls?” Sister Anselm asked. “Enid spent the whole night muttering about them, saying that they might be in danger, but I thought it was just the meds talking. I didn’t pay that much attention.”

“David did,” Ali answered. “They’re the ones who gave Enid Irene’s number. They must have been worried, too, because when David showed up and offered to bring them here, they didn’t hesitate.”

“But how did they get Irene’s number in the first place?”

“Someone from here in Flag—someone who knew Irene—offered Irene’s information to Agnes when she showed up at a grocery store in Colorado City with a crop of fresh bruises showing. When Patricia and Agnes took off a few weeks later, they had Irene’s number with them. They never got this far, but they kept the number. When Anne Lowell was getting ready to run away, they offered the number to her, too, but Anne said she didn’t need it. She claimed someone on the Outside was helping her. Now, all these years later, Patricia and Agnes are the ones who gave Irene’s decade-old information to Enid.”

“You said someone on the Outside was helping Anne,” Sister Anselm interjected. “Do we know who?”

“A boyfriend most likely. At the time she was married to Richard Lowell, the guy who’s now in charge of the compound. She evidently had a relationship on the side with someone who wasn’t her husband—maybe even with someone outside the cult—and was afraid of what her husband would do to her if he found out about the affair.”

“That’s why she ran away—because she was carrying another man’s child?”

“So it would seem.”

“Should I tell Enid? She’s sleeping right now, but she’s improving.”

“No,” Ali answered. “Don’t tell her anything yet, not until we know for sure that the Kingman Jane Doe is Anne Lowell.”

“How do we ascertain that,” Sister Anselm asked, “especially since the evidence box in that case has gone missing?”

“The box may be missing, but Jane Doe and her baby aren’t. They’re right where you left them in a common grave in Holy Name Cemetery in Kingman, Arizona.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“We have a possible ID,” Ali answered. “Bishop Gillespie is the one who paid Jane Doe’s burial expenses. If we can’t get a court order to have the body exhumed, maybe his previous involvement will give him leeway to request an exhumation.”

“It’s a Catholic cemetery,” Sister Anselm mused. “He might be able to make that work, but won’t he need a court order? How would he get one of those?”

“I’ll check with my new BFF, Governor Dunham. She’s busy with planning tonight’s raid, but I’ll ask her to look into the exhumation problem as soon as possible.”

“Wait,” Sister Anselm interjected. “Did you say raid? What raid?”

“How long have you been gone?” Ali asked. “It turns out a lot has happened.”

She spent the next ten minutes telling Sister Anselm everything that had transpired, ending with her long conversation with Governor Dunham.

“So you’ll be going to Colorado City tonight?” the nun asked when Ali finished.

“Yes.”

“I wish I could be there, too,” Sister Anselm said.

“But you can’t. We need you to look after Enid. Let other people handle the rest of it.”

Once off the line with Sister Anselm, Ali spent the next fifteen minutes on hold with the governor’s office, waiting to be put through to Virginia Dunham. By then more than an hour of Ali’s four-hour naptime window had evaporated, and she had yet to make it back to the Crown Inn.

“Yes, Ali,” Virginia Dunham said finally. “Sorry to leave you on hold so long. I was trying to clear up the tour bus situation. For arrestees, I’m bringing along a Department of Corrections bus that’s used to transport prisoners back and forth for court dates. I’ve also hired two motor coaches. They’ll be available to handle the transportation needs of any residents who wish to leave the compound immediately. The coach company was giving my chief of staff fits about possible liability issues. I’m afraid I had to get involved and kick a few asses to make it happen.”

Ali couldn’t help smiling at that. Governor Dunham was definitely living up to her advance notices.

The governor listened patiently while Ali laid out the most recent wrinkle in The Family’s complex history.

“It sounds to me,” Governor Dunham said when Ali finished, “like you’re using the Kingman Jane Doe thing to go after Sheriff Alvarado again. You really don’t like the man, do you?”

“Liking has nothing to do with it,” Ali asserted. “And it’s not just the sheriff. There are things inside his department that don’t pass the smell test, Amos Sellers being a prime example. His being a deputy and The Family’s bounty hunter at the same time isn’t right. In fact, it’s a conflict of interest. I’m worried that Sellers may have been personally involved with what happened to Anne Lowell. He may also be the person behind the disappearance of that critical evidence box.”

“Let’s cross one bridge at a time,” Governor Dunham cautioned. “I can see that having DNA evidence constitutes a new lead in the Kingman Jane Doe case. No matter what the fallout is from tonight’s raid, I owe you an enormous debt for bringing this ungodly mess to my attention. So please let Sister Anselm know there’s no need for her to involve Bishop Gillespie in this matter. My attorney general has a cold case unit that operates statewide. I’ll turn this exhumation issue over to him, but not today, mind you. My whole team, including the AG, are up to their asses in alligators at the moment. You’ll have to trust me on this.”

“I will,” Ali said. “Thank you.”

“See you at six?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ali said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

On the way back to the Crown Inn, Ali called Sister Anselm back and told her she could stand down from tackling Bishop Gillespie—that the exhumation problem had been handled. Once off the phone, she realized it had been a very long time since breakfast. She would have stopped by the Pancake Castle to grab a bite of lunch, but they closed at two-thirty. It was more than an hour and a half beyond that.

B. may have called ahead, but getting let back into the hotel room wasn’t easy. The discrepancy between B.’s last name and Ali’s was noted and required a detailed explanation. Ali could tell by the disapproving frown on the clerk’s face that she was better off claiming their having married recently for the name difference. She had a feeling that the gray-haired woman behind the counter would not approve of someone who had no intention of ever changing her name.

Once Ali managed to talk her way into the room, she was sorry. The bed hadn’t looked all that inviting early in the morning, and nothing had changed in the intervening hours. The faded flowered bedspread was well beyond its expiration date, and even from a distance the lumps in the worn mattress were clearly visible. Ali turned off her ringer, placed the phone on a charger, and set the alarm on her iPad for five-fifteen. Then, slipping off her shoes, she lay down on top of the covers and pulled her coat over her to keep warm.

With so many pieces about to be set in motion, she more than half expected to toss and turn. Instead, she fell asleep instantly. When the alarm went off, she awakened from a dreamless sleep, rested and ready for action.

She and Sister Anselm had started this, and now was the time to finish it.

34

While Ali slept, a text had come in from David. He said he’d been called away, but he had taken Patricia and Agnes back to their new temporary housing unit and gave Ali their address.

When Ali rang the bell at an upstairs apartment, the Patricia who answered the door was barely recognizable from the woman Ali had first seen; Agnes looked totally different, too. David Upton had done exactly as he’d been asked, and the Brought Back girls were transformed. The clothing he’d helped the two women purchase was inexpensive, off-the-rack-type fare, most likely from Target, but it worked. Dressed in jeans, sweaters, and lace-up boots, the two Brought Back girls looked like normal thirtysomething Americans rather than bewildered immigrants from a bygone era.

Somewhere along the way, both women had visited a salon, coming away with short bobs to replace the long cumbersome braids. The thing David hadn’t been able to fix were the neglected and missing teeth, which were still front and center.

“I’ve never worn pants before or boots, either,” Patricia said, looking down at her legs a little self-consciously. “Women in The Family aren’t allowed.”

Wearing pants and boots aren’t the only things you weren’t allowed to do, Ali thought. She said, “Are you ready to do this?”

Patricia nodded. “Do you think people will even recognize us?”

“They will,” Ali assured her. “They may also be more than a little envious. Come on.”

Patricia and Agnes donned a pair of down-filled ski jackets and followed Ali out to the car, where they had to be reminded and helped to put on their seat belts. When Ali pulled into the parking lot at the DPS headquarters on the dot of six, the place was full to the brim with unmarked patrol cars from any number of jurisdictions. That made sense. The thinking was that having an army of readily recognizable marked cars heading north would be far too noticeable. Parked on the street were two immense chartered tour buses along with the converted school bus, complete with barred windows and a Department of Corrections logo, that would be used to transport prisoners.

What Ali found most surprising was the total lack of any media presence. She wondered how an operation of this size and complexity had been organized and thus far operated completely under the media’s radar. She guessed that Governor Dunham had held more than a few feet to the fire to make that happen.

Inside, the spacious lobby was packed. Cops in and out of uniform chatted amiably, making the room look like the site of a mini-law-enforcement convention. No doubt the officers’ emergency response team gear was stowed in the vehicles parked outside. Faced with the crowd, Agnes and Patricia hesitated in the doorway. Ali scanned the room, recognizing a few familiar faces before finally spotting B. He stood head and shoulders above most everyone else, talking with her friend Dave Holman, a homicide detective from Yavapai County.

“This way,” Ali said, urging the Brought Back girls forward and into the crowd. “I want to introduce you to my husband.”

Before she had a chance, however, Virginia Dunham’s voice came over a loudspeaker. “May I have your attention, please.”

Looking up, Ali saw that a lectern had been set up on the landing of the marble stairway that led to the building’s second story. Virginia Dunham, clad in boots, jeans, and a fringed leather jacket, took her place behind the microphone.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Governor Dunham,” she continued, donning glasses and reading from a prepared text. “Thank you all for being here on such short notice. You’re about to participate in an important operation that will take most of the night and maybe part of the morning as well. That means it’ll be a long haul. As you leave here, you’ll find a supply of boxed lunches next to the door. We’re going to Colorado City, where I’m not expecting a welcome mat or any open restaurants. Feel free to take two boxes with you, one for now and one for breakfast. I’ve got a taco truck that will be on-site later, but it isn’t scheduled to arrive until after the main event, which is planned for midnight.

“We have credible evidence that offenders from a group called The Family have been running a human trafficking organization. Earlier today, there were some doubters and naysayers when I began putting this operation together and telling people that we needed to act quickly to prevent another group of girls from being shipped off into the sex trade. I want you to know that we now have intel that corroborates my concern. The FAA has informed my office that a charter company has filed a flight plan for a Citation X that’s due to land on The Family’s private airstrip at one A.M. for a scheduled two A.M. departure.

“By the way, the final destination on the flight plan is listed as Caracas, Venezuela. Venezuela happens to be a country with which the United States has no extradition treaty. If either the victims or perpetrators make it that far, they’ll be completely beyond our reach. That’s why I’ve put this together in such a hurry—to make sure that doesn’t happen. An FBI team is being assembled to handle the airstrip aspect of the operation. The suspect aircraft will be allowed to land, but it won’t be taking off again.

“Throwing the plane’s scheduled arrival and departure times into the mix means that we must hold to our midnight timetable. No delays. It’s a four-hour drive from here to there. The FBI is overseeing the entire operation. Their command and control vehicle is on the way already and should be in position well before the rest of you arrive. Teams one, two, and three will depart ten minutes after the conclusion of this briefing. Other higher-numbered teams will launch off in groups of three at ten-minute intervals. We can’t afford to have a northbound traffic jam. Stick to the speed limits. Don’t attract undue attention. Maintain radio silence in case someone is monitoring police channels. The tour buses and my Sprinter will be the last ones to depart and head north.”

Ali was struck by the new information that a plane was scheduled to arrive at The Family’s landing strip—a charter capable of long-distance flying. Her gut told her that was more than a coincidence. If The Family had scheduled a flight out for sometime tonight, wasn’t it likely that they knew something was up and suspected that a raid was coming?

While Governor Dunham continued to lay out team assignments, Ali broke away from B. and Dave and wandered through the crush of cops, searching in vain for Sheriff Alvarado.

“The FBI has called down satellite surveillance of the area,” Governor Dunham continued. “So far it appears that no one is behaving as though they’ve had any advance notice of our intended arrival. Each three-man team has been assigned a number that corresponds with the operations number assigned to each of the targeted residences. At the back of the room, just before the box-lunch table, you’ll find an additional table where team captains will collect their assignments, complete with addresses, GPS coordinates, and communications routings to the C and C vehicle. Most of you will be parking outside The Family’s property and hiking in to your target, so plan on using GPS technology. Teams with the greatest distances to cover on foot have been scheduled to depart first. Fortunately, preliminary surveys of the area show no sign of anti-intrusion devices. Is everyone clear on that?”

There were nods all around. When no one raised a hand to ask a question, she went on.

“As I said, every team should be in position and prepared to take action at the stroke of midnight. Launching all the raids simultaneously allows our targets the least opportunity for organized resistance, and that is something we want to avoid if at all possible. Authorization for carrying out this operation has been more flexible than it would have been otherwise due to the fact that we strongly suspect that another group of girls is in immediate danger of being transported out of the country.

“The search warrants you’ll be carrying specify two things—the first authorizes the collection of family Bibles from each of the residences. The Bibles are thought to contain the names and birth dates of suspected trafficking victims. The second specifies that the men named on the warrants are required to undergo cheek swabbing for DNA testing. If they refuse or put up any resistance, they’re to be taken into custody and individually transported to this location for questioning. By the time they arrive back here, we should have people from the FBI on hand to conduct the interrogations.

“You’ll find that the adult women in the community aren’t named on the warrants primarily because we don’t have legal names on the vast majority of them. The women are welcome to provide DNA samples but cannot be compelled to do so. However, any who interfere with the execution of the warrants are to be taken into custody.

“Each family unit may have its own collection of what are commonly referred to as Brought Back girls. These are women who have attempted to run away and who have been returned to their families. These girls—women really—are kept as virtual prisoners. If any of them or any of the other women express a desire to leave the community, let them know that they will be allowed and helped to do so. We’ll have transportation available to bring them back here to Flagstaff, where we’re making arrangements with a local shelter to locate temporary housing.

“I’m not sure how many of you are aware of the incident at Short Creek in the early fifties. There, in an early-morning raid on a polygamous community very similar to this one, every person involved was arrested, minor children included. Many of those children were put into foster care and never reunited with their families. We’re attempting to avoid that outcome here. That’s why Irene’s Place, a local domestic violence shelter, is assisting us in this operation. Where possible, please treat the affected women and children with kindness and consideration, although again, interference on their part in execution of the warrants will not be tolerated.

“You may have noticed that there’s a notable lack of media presence here. That’s a deliberate call on my part. I’ve asked all affected agencies and personnel to maintain strict secrecy in advance of this operation. That includes maintaining radio silence and limiting the use of cell phones. I have it on good authority that there are people out in the world who make it their business to track and listen in on cell-phone signals. Your continued cooperation in keeping this operation under wraps is essential. Now, be safe out there. Go with God.”

By the time the governor removed her reading glasses and stepped away from the lectern, Ali was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairway.

“Where’s Alvarado?” Ali asked without greeting. “Other department heads are here. He’s not.”

“You must be Ali,” Governor Dunham said. “I understand there was some kind of delay in his being able to leave town—a family emergency, I believe. Sheriff Alvarado has his own Cessna. He’ll be flying over to Colorado City and meeting up with us and his officers there. Since the Mohave County teams are part of the last group to leave here, he most likely won’t depart Kingman for a while yet. I offered to pick him up in the Sprinter at the airport, but he told me he keeps a vehicle there that he can use as needed.”

Ali shook her head. “This is a major operation due to occur in his jurisdiction. Aren’t you the least bit worried about his not being here for the briefing?”

“He may have missed the briefing,” Governor Dunham said, “but he’ll still be there for the operation. What’s your problem with all this?”

“What if he’s involved?” Ali replied. “If he let Amos Sellers in on the operation, then it’s a good bet The Family is in on it, too.”

“Do not worry about Deputy Sellers,” Governor Dunham assured her. “That situation is being handled, even as we speak. As for The Family’s having been alerted? Our satellite recon shows no unusual activity anywhere inside the compound. As far as we can see, they’re still entirely unaware of our intentions. Now, where are Patricia and Agnes? They’ll be riding along with me in the Sprinter so they’ll be on hand to intercede with other residents, but I’d like to at least meet them before then. You’ll be riding with us, too?”

“I expect so,” Ali said. “Agnes and Patricia are over there with my husband.” As she turned in that direction, a cell phone rang behind her. She looked back at Governor Dunham, who had stopped long enough to answer.

She listened for a moment and then nodded. “Excellent. Deputy Sellers is already here in town? Great. Yes, have him wait there. Put him in an interview room and tell him you’ll bring Patricia and Agnes up from the jail shortly. Once the first of the FBI interview teams arrives, we’ll send one of them right over with the Amos Sellers warrants in hand.”

Ali was astonished. “Deputy Sellers is here in Flagstaff? And what’s this about Patricia and Agnes being in jail? I already told you. They’re right over there.”

“I heeded your earlier warning about Deputy Sellers possibly compromising the operation,” Governor Dunham said, “so I took steps to remove him from the board by simply appealing to his greed. Knowing his bounty-hunter function, I took the liberty of having my chief of staff, Bill Witherspoon, pass along a phony tip about Agnes and Patricia’s supposed whereabouts. Bill told Deputy Sellers that the two runaways had been arrested here in town and charged with shoplifting. He was led to believe that they were being held by the Flagstaff PD and needed someone to post their bail.

“That call didn’t exactly rise to the level of filing a false police report, but it was close, uncomfortably close. Bill was still worried about it, right up until Sellers took the bait. He was on his way here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, hotfooting it out of Colorado City in his personal vehicle rather than in a patrol car. That’s a pretty good indicator that he wasn’t traveling in any official capacity. As of right now he’s cooling his heels in an interview room at the Flagstaff PD. I trust that puts at least some of your concerns about him to rest. Now, if there’s nothing else . . .”

“There is,” Ali said. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“To Deputy Sellers? Why?”

“Kingman Jane Doe,” Ali answered. “Amos Sellers was already The Family’s enforcer back when Anne Lowell ran away. At the time there were rumors that the baby Anne was carrying didn’t belong to her husband. Supposedly she had a boyfriend on the Outside who was going to help her. Instead, we believe both she and her baby ended up dead. Of all the people in The Family, Amos was more Outside than in. What if he did both—fathered the baby and then killed Anne to cover it up?”

The governor thought about it. “Anything he tells you won’t be admissible in a court of law, you know,” Governor Dunham warned, “but it might answer a lot of questions. You’re saying what you’re interested in has nothing to do with tonight’s operation?”

“Nothing.”

Governor Dunham shrugged. “Go ahead, then. Since you’re not a cop, I don’t see any harm in asking. Just be back here in plenty of time for us to head north.”

Ali hurried back to where Patricia, Agnes, and B. had been joined by Andrea Rogers. “The governor says we’ll be departing in a little over an hour. If you don’t mind, Patricia and Agnes, B. and I will leave you here with Andrea long enough for us to run an errand.”

“What kind of errand?” B. asked, dutifully following behind as Ali threaded her way through the still packed room.

“We’re going to go talk to Amos Sellers. He’s currently in an interview room at the local cop shop.”

“He’s one of the bad guys, isn’t he? Won’t talking to him be dangerous?”

“No,” Ali assured him. “His weapons will be locked away in a gun locker, and so will mine.”

“All right, then,” B. said. “Let’s do it.”

The trip from the DPS headquarters to the Flagstaff PD took seven of the sixty minutes Ali had allowed herself. Once inside the building, she was surprised to learn she and B. were both expected. Governor Dunham had called ahead and cleared the way. Leaving B. and a uniformed officer to watch through the two-way mirror, Ali entered the interview room alone.

Amos Sellers rose to his feet. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I was expecting a cop. He’s supposed to be bringing two prisoners over from the jail so I can post their bail and take them back home.”

“They’re not coming,” Ali said. “They’ve already been released.”

“Then I’m leaving, too.” He started for the door.

“No, you’re not,” Ali said. “That door is locked. Sit down.”

“Wait a minute,” Sellers said. “You’re not a cop. You can’t order me around.”

“Sit,” she said. “An FBI team is on its way to interview you.”

“Interview me?” Sellers asked, sinking back down on his chair. “About what?”

“Human trafficking. About how The Family’s Not Chosens are routinely shipped out of the country and end up being sold as sex slaves all over the world.”

“That’s not possible,” Amos insisted. “The Not Chosens go to other families, other homes.”

“Who says?”

“Bishop Lowell.”

“And you believe him?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then you’re a lot dumber than I thought,” Ali said. She glanced at her watch. The minutes were ticking by.

“A team from the FBI is due here any minute to discuss that with you. Right now, though, I’d like you to tell me about Anne Lowell.”