Chapter 20 - The Husband I Buried

Now

The more I thought about the man from the train, the more I convinced myself it was Luis.

I could feel the frustration building. He had been right there. I could feel how close I’d come, but somehow, I’d lost him all over again.

There was no way I was going to just wait around, thinking, obsessing. I needed to start searching for answers.

This wasn’t grief or wishful thinking. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone convince me otherwise.

If Jessica didn’t believe me, then I’d find someone who did.

If grief really did make people see what wasn’t there – see ghosts, like Jessica claimed – then there were others who knew how it felt to pass a stranger on the street and swear it was someone they’d lost.

I knew exactly where to find people like that. The grief support group that met in the basement at St. Andrew’s. They were there every Thursday night, at seven sharp. I’d started going a few weeks after Luis died, realizing I wasn’t going to pull myself out of this funk any time soon. It was weeks since I’d been. I hadn’t planned on going back, either. Sitting in that basement listening to strangers trade stories of the worst things that had happened to them had started to feel like drowning.

But tonight, I needed them. They might be the only ones capable of understanding.

I checked the clock. Just over an hour until the meeting. Enough time to shower, pull myself together, and stop my hands from shaking.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the fridge and made a sandwich using leftovers. Cold chicken and lettuce. I had no appetite, but I needed to eat something. The act of eating became methodical. Bite. Chew. Swallow. I kept going until I was done. As I finished the last mouthful, my phone buzzed.

It was Carmen, the beagle lady, asking if I was coming to pick up the puppy.

Damn. I’d forgotten to message her back.

I quickly texted.

Yes, of course. I’ll have someone there by 8pm. So sorry for the inconvenience, something urgent came up.

Who could I ask to go out there and pick up the puppy? Jess wouldn’t be able to do it. She ran a walk-in service on Thursday nights for teens.

A message appeared on the screen as I was thinking. From Carl.

Hey boss, I did some digging on the wellness center and on the—

The message cut off.

I stared at the screen for a beat, trying to figure out what he might’ve been going to say, until my phone started ringing.

‘Hey, Carl,’ I said.

‘It felt easier to just call,’ he said, without a greeting. ‘You sitting down?’

He must’ve found something good, or he wouldn’t have bothered. Especially this late in the day.

‘Talk to me.’

I took the plate I’d used for my sandwich to the sink and headed to my home office to continue the call.

‘I stayed back a couple of hours,’ he said. ‘Figured I’d follow the Institute thread a little further. There was just surface stuff at first. Websites. Corporate filings. Socials. Blah blah.’

‘And?’

‘And it’s . . . odd.’

I closed the door to my office, leaning against it. ‘Define odd.’

‘It’s not a spa,’ he said. ‘Not really. They call themselves a wellness collective, but there’s no drop-in model. No casual memberships. No one-off appointments. Everything’s application-based.’

‘That’s not illegal,’ I said automatically.

‘No,’ Carl agreed. ‘But it’s exclusive. You don’t book a massage, or a facial. You’re accepted.’

I straightened. ‘Accepted how?’

‘Referral-only retreats. Tiered programs. The lingo is strange. Kind of jargony. They don’t advertise prices publicly.’

That prickling sensation crept up my spine.

‘What kind of “lingo”?’ I asked.

Carl hesitated. ‘The kind that sounds benign until you read enough of it in a row.’

‘Give me an example.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘They don’t say “clients.” They say participants. They don’t run “sessions”, but discovery. They talk about letting go of things that stop you from being yourself. Your true self.’

His words triggered a memory. It sounded like something Rebecca had said in the café, almost word for word.

‘I think Brad might’ve been a member,’ I said. ‘There were all those receipts. Money he pumped into the Institute.’ I took a deep breath. ‘But Rebecca mentioned something Brad said to her. It was eerily similar, about wanting her to have the freedom to be her real self.’

‘Right,’ said Carl, not sounding surprised at all. ‘That makes sense. I came to the same conclusion. Multiple retreats. International travel. Spain comes up more than once, and the retreat there.’

‘What did you find on Rebecca?’

‘That’s where it gets interesting,’ he said. ‘Nothing public ties her to the Institute. No donations. No listed memberships. There wasn’t a whole lot about her at all.’

I could hear it in his tone. There was more.

‘What else?’

‘Brad registered a second “participant” for at least two retreats,’ Carl said. ‘Same dates. Same locations.’

I closed my eyes.

‘She went with him,’ I said.

‘Looks that way. But under his name.’

‘Control,’ I murmured.

‘Oh, I’m still not done,’ said Carl. ‘The Institute uses internal messaging platforms. Encrypted. Not illegal – but closed systems. Think Slack, but spiritual.’

My stomach tightened.

‘How can you see it?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ said Carl. ‘Let’s just say the system thinks my guy who looked into this is one of their members.’

‘Isn’t that traceable?’

‘Sure. If you’re looking. But he changed the log, so his activity was deleted. Almost invisible.’

‘OK.’

‘Do you want to hear the interesting part?’

He knows I’ll bite. ‘Sure.’

‘Brad was active. Very active. Posting reflections. Sharing progress. Talking about guiding others.’

That made me open my eyes.

‘Guiding how?’

‘As someone who’d “completed the work,”’ Carl said. ‘There’s language about responsibility. Leadership. Being chosen.’

A beat.

‘Chosen for what?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘Rebecca ever post?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Carl said. ‘But Brad mentions her. A lot.’

‘How?’

‘Not by name,’ he said. ‘He refers to her as my counterpart. Says she’s “resistant but close.” That she’ll “come around when the time is right.”’

The words sat heavy between us.

‘Carl,’ I said slowly, ‘does any of this suggest violence?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not overtly. It’s all framed as growth. Renewal. Transformation.’

‘But?’

‘But there’s a fixation on breaking cycles,’ he said. ‘On sacrifice as a metaphor.’

I pictured the fire report.

The circle.

The locked door.

‘I don’t like this,’ I said.

‘Me neither,’ Carl replied. ‘But here’s the thing – none of it is criminal. Not on the face of it. It’s just . . . structured belief.’

Structured.

It sounded like a way to convince people to believe what you wanted them to believe. ‘Email me everything,’ I said. ‘Screenshots. Language samples. Travel dates.’

‘Already compiling,’ Carl said. ‘One more thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘There are others like Brad. People who attend long enough, advance far enough. They climb the ladder.’

‘And become what?’ I asked.

Carl exhaled. ‘Mentors, or gurus, or something. There was also a participant whose name was blocked on the forums. It looks like they were banned. All their messages were deleted. I’m still working on a deeper search to find out who they are, why they were banned.’

‘Nice,’ I said.

‘I found some stuff online. An anonymous poster with the handle truthskr, but they had a lot to say about the Coterie Institute, none of it good.’

‘Like?’

‘They accused the Institute of murdering someone close to them. They didn’t say who. I guess that would’ve ruined their anonymity. I’ve got my guy on it. Hopefully we’ll have a name soon.’

The line went quiet.

‘Are you still there, boss?’ asked Carl.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I was just thinking.’

I didn’t tell him I was finding it hard to focus properly, the man from the train intruding on my thoughts. It wasn’t just seeing him that had me distracted. It was the way he made me feel, just being near him. So familiar, my body reacting like it always had to Luis.

The man didn’t feel like a stranger.

‘I haven’t been able to substantiate the claim, but give me more time. Then there’s the essential oils used in the fire . . .’ Carl trailed off and I sharpened my focus back on what he was saying.

‘A wellness center would be an easy place to get essential oils,’ I said, ‘but that doesn’t mean Rebecca used them. She seems smart to me, and that would be too obvious.’

‘Of course not,’ agreed Carl. ‘I’m still looking into it. I’ve only skimmed the surface.’

‘Good work,’ I said. I looked at the clock. Almost six thirty. ‘Listen, Carl . . . I have kind of a weird favor to ask. Feel free to say no.’

He laughed. ‘You sound like you’re about to ask me to hide a body.’

‘Not quite. But I need you to pick something up for me.’

‘You can’t get it delivered?’ he asked.

‘Not really. It’s not a “wrap it up and throw it in the back seat” kind of package. It’s a puppy. I promised I’d collect her tonight, but I have this grief support group to go to—’

‘Aww, I love puppies,’ he cooed. ‘Of course I can. Send me the address.’

‘You’re a lifesaver, Carl. Just drop her at my place. Key’s under the potted plant. I’ll be home when I can.’

When we hung up, I grabbed my mace from the drawer. I’d started carrying it after Luis died. His death had opened my eyes to how fragile life could be. Even more than being a lawyer had.

How fast normal could shatter.

Jess told me I was being ‘hypervigilant’. I’d call it being prepared.

I slipped it into my coat pocket and sent the address to Carl along with a thank you.

As I got ready to leave the house, I replayed our conversation.

What Carl had found was interesting, but none of it was evidence. It wasn’t proof, but it was the first time Rebecca and Brad stopped looking like a bad marriage that ended in tragedy – and started looking like they were part of something larger.

Something deliberate.

Something that didn’t need to announce itself to be dangerous.

How could a wellness center tear Brad away from home so frequently? Was he working for them? Or did he just really need to unwind?

I realized that defending Rebecca might mean putting myself in a dangerous position between the truth, and people who were prepared to protect themselves and each other.

I just needed to know which side of this Rebecca was on before I really committed.