“Charles Manson? Are you serious?”
He chose a file from a stack he’d brought in with him, and thumbed through it while he talked. “Dead serious. Wycliff corresponded with Manson regularly while he was in high school. I’ve got copies of some of those letters here.”
“Was their correspondence a joke at first, too?”
“He played it that way, used to read Manson’s letters aloud to various people he knew, including his parents. His mother said he liked the shock value. His father claims he’s always been fascinated with killers. Especially Manson, because of the brutality of the Tate murders and the power Manson held over those who committed them.”
“Why would they allow him to correspond with someone like Manson?”
“It started out as what Ethan called ‘a psychological study.’ He said he wanted to major in behavioral science when he went to college.”
She shivered. “But couldn’t they see where it was going? These letters make me more than a little nervous.”
“They should’ve made everyone nervous.” He offered the file for her perusal.
Careful not to brush his hand, she accepted it but merely placed it in front of her, because he was still talking.
“At first his parents saw only what they wanted to see and hoped his interest was professional, as he’d claimed. He didn’t read them what he wrote to Manson. He kept that private, so the bits and pieces they heard of Manson’s letters made it sound as if Manson was the only crazy one.”
“So how did we get copies of the letters?”
“You know how closely prison mail is monitored. Once his father finally became uneasy, he paid a correctional officer to keep an eye on the budding relationship. It was that guy who made copies. But he worked certain days and shifts, of course, and the letters that came and went on someone else’s watch were lost.”
“Why didn’t dear old dad put a stop to the letters once he saw what they contained?”
“His wife insisted it was just a ‘phase’ Ethan was going through, that he was purposely trying to provoke Manson, the same way he tried to provoke everyone else. And then the problem seemed to solve itself. Ethan grew disenchanted with Manson, quit writing him and the relationship ended.”
“But that was a pretty ominous start, and it led to a bigger problem.”
“Exactly. Now Ethan’s set himself up as a prophet, the Holy One, the man to lead all Christians to enlightenment.”
“And let me guess—enlightenment happens after this life.”
“With your background, I knew you’d be familiar with the dogma.”
Far more than she wanted to be. She’d tried hard to distance herself from the brainwashing she’d undergone as a child, but it wasn’t easy to put all those hours of religious “instruction” behind her. Not when there were so many lasting effects, some of which she blamed for the embarrassing blunder she’d made with Nate six months ago.
“Sounds as if he’s as whacked as Manson,” she mused. Or, like her father, his teachings and devotions could be similar enough to mainstream religions to fall within what society deemed “normal.” Not that her father’s “normal” was normal to most people. From the moment she got home from school every day, Fredrick Jessop had kept her under lock and key, forced her to read the Bible for hours on end and go to church three or four times a week. Until she’d left home at seventeen, he’d had complete control. Even after she was on her own, she’d been so well trained she was twenty-five before she lost her virginity; at that point she’d finally slept with a man just to punish her father after an argument. That had turned out to be such a bad experience, so cheap and unsatisfying, she hadn’t had sex again until she met Nate. But, for different reasons, her encounter with Nate had been even more disappointing than the original one.
“He might be crazy,” Nate said. “But making up your own religion isn’t a crime. You know that better than most.”
Her father and his cronies had done it, hadn’t they? “So what law has Ethan broken?”
Nate’s broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “That’s the reason for this assignment—to find out.”
She’d already assumed as much. But she wasn’t comfortable with the religious element. Her background dealing with religious zealots had taught her there was no way to win, no way to argue any doctrine logically because people like her father always referred to the illogical to back up their beliefs.
“Do you think I have the experience for this?” she asked. Before coming to Department 6, she’d worked undercover for the LAPD, pretending to be a prostitute, as well as helping in some drug busts. Since hiring on at Department 6, she’d continued with drug enforcement, generally contract labor for the DEA. Bottom line, she’d specialized in something that was more straightforward, easier to fight. And she liked it that way.
“You have as much experience with this type of thing as anyone else at Department 6,” he said.
That was probably true. They all did more drug work than anything else. “There must be something besides his affiliation with Manson that’s brought this man to our attention,” she said. “I’m guessing there are a lot of whack jobs who’ve contacted Manson over the years.”
“A woman by the name of Martha Wilson recently escaped from the commune,” Nate explained.
Now they were talking. “Another interesting word choice, seeing that escaped has the connotation of being held against her will.”
“Her word,” he said. “She claimed Wycliff punished her for sleeping with her own husband.”
“I thought sex was dealt with in a more liberal fashion in this commune.”
“It is. But she was on ‘restriction.’”
Because it was beyond awkward to talk about sex with Nate after what had occurred between them, Rachel tried to cover her anxiety by toying with the edge of the file in front of her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Otherwise, sex is open to anyone, married or unmarried, as long as both people are consenting and of age.”
“Now I see why Ethan’s attracting converts. Religious endorsement of drugs and sex. No willpower required. What’s not to like?”
His lips quirked in a wry smile. “It’s not quite as simple as it might sound.”
“With religion, it never is,” she muttered.