Always Watching

I wanted to respect her privacy, and I was also still working it out in my own mind.
    “It must’ve been hard to see her like that.” His expression was kind.
    “It was, especially hearing how serious she sounded about joining the commune.” I thought about the pain in her eyes when she admitted she was trying to get help, the desperation. I’d also seen that look in Heather’s eyes when she talked about how Aaron believed everyone could heal themselves, how weak he had made her feel. What lies would he tell my daughter about her addiction?
    Kevin said, “Did you share your misgivings about their techniques? Or anything about your own experience with them when you were a child?”
    “I tried, but she didn’t want to hear it.”
    “Do you think she might be more receptive another time?” He lowered his voice, the tone soft.
    I thought about what he said. Lisa had been very high, the wrong time to talk about anything. “Maybe I should go there again tonight. But it might be too late.…”
    Kevin said, “If she does go to a retreat or joins the center, at least she’ll get clean. Then she might make different decisions with her life. It sounds like she’s starting to accept responsibility for her addiction.”
    “I hope so.” I paused and smiled at him. “I’m sorry, you probably just wanted a relaxing lunch, and now you’ve ended up hearing all my problems.”
    Kevin shook his head. “No, I’m glad to help. You want some help tonight?”
    I considered his offer, but even if I was able to get Lisa out of the building, she’d take one look at Kevin and think I set her up. “Thanks, but I should go alone. She’ll respond better.” I rose to my feet. “I should get back to work.”
    “Okay, shoot me an e-mail later so I know you’re not in a ditch somewhere.” His words were joking, but his face was serious.
    “Sure.” I was surprised that I was pleased at the idea of someone worrying about me. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be accountable. “Thanks for the talk.”
    “Anytime.”
    I glanced back as I left the cafeteria. Kevin was staring down at his mug, looking lost in thought.
    *   *   *
    After work, I had a shower, then dressed in casual clothing, careful to remove my earrings and all jewelry, and made my way back to the Monkey House. I’d wanted to hit it earlier in the evening, before it got dark. I sat in my car, watching the comings and goings. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to bring Kevin, but it was too late now. I grabbed my iPhone, holding it ready in my hand—and kept my other on the bottle of mace in my right pocket. Then, locking the car behind me, twice, I made my way into the house.
    A few people stopped what they were doing and stared at me, clustered in little groups, their eyes vacant, reminding me of zombies in some horror film. When I got to the room where I had found Lisa before, it was empty. I stared at the bare mattress, fear shooting through my body. Maybe she’d just changed rooms. A woman’s voice close behind me said, “You looking for your daughter?”
    I spun around. It was the First Nations woman from the day before.
    She held out a hand. “Give me some money, and I’ll tell you where your girl’s at.”
    I had left my purse at home, tucking only the bare essentials from my wallet into my jeans. I pulled out a twenty. She motioned for more. I shook my head. “It’s all I have.”
    She snatched it out of my hands. “She left with those people from the center.”
    My vision began to narrow as my heart whooshed in my ears, the scents of the building, unwashed bodies, drugs, and urine, thick in my throat. “Do you mean River of Life?”
    “Don’t know what they’re called.” She shrugged, scratching lazily at her arm, her fingernails scraping against one of her sores. She stopped and studied it for a moment, picking at the edges. She looked back at me. “They started coming around, handing out their flyers and shit, trying to cure us.” She laughed. “They sure like your daughter—talked to her a few times.”
    Description, just focus and get a description.
    “What did they look like?”
    Another lazy shrug, staring at my pocket like it might produce more money. I waited, she met my eyes. I stared her down. Finally: “Some old white dude with gray hair and some younger chick.”
    My breath stopped in my throat. Did she mean Aaron? “Did you hear them use any names?”
    “No—there’s something freaky about them. I