“We’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later.”
“I know.” Chris pushed away to douse himself in the water. “But not now.”
Matt relented. “All right,” he said, but he added, with warning, “As long as you know, I won’t wait forever.”
* * *
Dare stood with Chris, one hand flattened on the desktop as they looked over the file. “I need the background on the last five owners. Go back two, even five years if you have to. I need to pinpoint when the forced labor started there.”
“Got it.” Chris did some quick typing, organizing the details of the assignment.
“Do a check of the neighborhood, too. See if there’s been any uptick in crime.”
“Got it.” A little more typing and he set the papers to print.
Pacing beside them, coiled with tension, Trace said, “Sorry for the rush. This job came out of nowhere, and I’d do it myself, but I’m buried in research on that damned twisted cult.”
Chris sat back in his chair. “The seventeen-year-old, right?”
“Her parents have been insane with worry.” Trace unwound enough to rub the back of his neck. “God save me from misguided youth.”
“We looked at her parents, her home life and upbringing,” Dare told him, “making sure she didn’t have reason to book. Everything checked out at home.”
“Her boyfriend got her involved.” Trace started pacing again. “He’s a damned twenty-six-year-old plant.”
“Last count,” Dare said, “he had about a dozen girlfriends in the compound—a reward for bringing in recruits.”
“When are you moving on it?”
Dare folded the file. “Couple of days, tops.”
“Authorities will move in right after I’ve cleared out.” Trace’s eyes narrowed. “I want to get the kids out of there first, though.”
“Keep them from getting caught up in the media frenzy.”
“That’s about it.”
“No worries.” Chris pushed back his chair and collected the papers and file. “I’ve got this covered so you can concentrate on teaching that twenty-six-year-old bozo the error of his ways.”
Dare shook his head. “He’s a creep, but he’s small fries in the overall scheme of things.”
“The cult leader has support from local politicians.” Trace looked to be in a killing mood. “I think they use the compound as their own private playground.”
Chris whistled. “The politicians I researched a week ago?”
“The records you dug up gave us our first concrete evidence.” Dare clapped him on the shoulder. “Which reminds me, you’re due for a raise.”
“You can surprise me.” Chris grinned, but the humor faded beneath concern for the kids involved in the cult. “Seriously, if there’s anything else you need me to do, just let me know.”
Trace did a double take. “Jesus, you do everything already. What else is there?”
“Doing everything is easy when you’re Superman,” Dare joked.
“It’s getting late, so I better get on it. See you guys later.”
Dare watched him go, frowning. He sensed something was wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. Sure, the idea of kids involved in a cult, or in forced labor—that was terrible stuff.
But their work centered on that and worse on a day-to-day basis. Chris handled it with ease, dealing with everything from the travel plans to computer research to the running of his household.
Hands on his hips, Dare considered things.
“He seems off,” Trace said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Molly poked her head into the room. “I saw Chris leave. Does that mean you’re done working for the night?”
“We have a few more things to go over, why?”
Priss pushed in around Molly and strode toward Trace. “Because Chris is unhappy, and you two have to fix it.”
“Unhappy?” Dare went to Molly and pulled her into his side. “About what?”
“About Matt.”
Trace held up his hands when Priss reached for him. “Oh no, I’m not playing Cupid. Chris is a big boy. He can handle his own relationships without Dare or me butting in.”
Priss wrapped her arms around Trace despite his attitude. “But that’s just it. He can’t handle this.”
Dare frowned. “Matt left because Chris had work to do.”
“I know,” Molly said. “This time. But that’s not the problem.”
Trace gave up and hugged Priss closer. “So what’s the problem?”
“Chris’s reticence to get involved.”
“Chris isn’t reticent about anything.” Dare tipped up Molly’s chin. “He’s plainspoken to a fault.”
“Not when he can’t be.” Priss pulled away from Trace, her stance confrontational. “And with you two, with what you do, he can’t be.”
Dare looked at Trace, but his friend looked as confused as he felt.
Molly sighed. “Dare, you and Trace do top-secret stuff, so naturally Chris doesn’t talk about that.”
“So?”
“So Matt thinks he’s…” She winced. “An errand boy.”
Anger slowly stiffened Dare’s spine.
In disbelief, Trace said, “No f**king way.”
“What else can he think?” Priss gave Trace a shove—or she tried to. Trace didn’t budge. “All Matt knows is that Chris handles the household stuff, setting up appointments for the dogs and basically…”