The Never List

binders, and three-hole punch lying there. Jim didn’t waste a second—he turned to the other officer, rattling off orders, even as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. The younger officer took notes, writing fast, glancing back up at Jim every few seconds, nodding.
    Jim made his way over to us in two strides, barking directions into his phone, clicking it off just as he reached us.
    “Listen, we’re hearing some pretty disturbing tales from these women. I haven’t seen anything like this in my twenty-three years with the Bureau. This wasn’t an ordinary prostitution ring.” He paused, perhaps thinking we weren’t prepared to hear the worst of it. “They sold girls for torture. As slaves. I’m going to Noah’s compound now. We’re going in.”
    I felt sick. This sounded like Jack’s forte.
    Jim turned his back to us to take a call, putting two fingers over his other ear to shut out the noise. Then he stepped back over to us, just as officers rushed past and sirens blared outside.
    “I’m arranging for you to go to a different hotel—we’ll send someone to pick up your things. And I’ve assigned you a security detail for protection. We’re getting you a new rental car—we’ve impounded the other one as evidence—and Officer Grunnell here will give you a police escort. Stay in your rooms until I give the word.”
    We nodded obediently, disoriented by the frenetic activity around us, and watched Jim go out the door.
    But despite everything, a tiny part of me didn’t feel finished here. I turned to Tracy and Christine.
    “So what do you say? Do we go wait it out in the hotel like dutiful little victims?”
    Tracy sniffed. “I don’t think so. I think we’ve wasted enough years in that role.” She turned to me. “Where do we go from here?”
    I thought a minute, happy she felt the same way. “It’s time for us to head back to Keeler, too. I think you need to meet Noah’s ex.”

CHAPTER 31
    Fortunately, Officer Grunnell was swamped and didn’t put up much of a fight when we told him we could make our way to the hotel on our own. He wrote out the address on the back of his card and said he’d see us there in an hour or so. We nodded solemnly and waved to him as we climbed into our new rental car. I hoped he wouldn’t get in too much trouble when Jim found out he’d let us walk out, just like that.
    It was starting to show that we hadn’t slept all night and were running solely on adrenaline. We all looked more than a bit ragged around the edges. Still, I was determined to speak to Helen Watson, Noah’s ex, before she heard the news about him from someone else. I hoped the shock of it might cause her to reveal something more to us, something she might not be willing to tell anyone else.
    Maybe it was the edge of exhaustion pushing her on, but Tracydrove faster than usual, certainly faster than I thought strictly necessary. Around every turn I pressed my foot into the floorboard, hitting the imaginary brake on the passenger side of the car. She grinned at me and told me to relax even as she sped up more.
    I tried to take my mind off the car accident statistics I wanted to recite by updating Christine about everything we’d learned so far. I could see her turning the facts over in her mind, and they were beginning to have the same impact on her they’d had on us. She was with us now. She called her husband to say her cousin was sicker than she’d thought, and she’d need to stay on a few more days to help out.
    As she hung up, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. Adele. And she sounded more agitated than I’d heard her before. Shaken almost.
    “Have you seen the news?” she asked, her voice quavering.
    “No,” I replied, “but I can guess.”
    “Guess? Were you involved? Was this part of your search for Sylvia?”
    “You might say that. What was on the news?”
    “That this Noah Philben—the pastor at Sylvia’s church—is wanted by the FBI. They won’t say why exactly, but there’s a standoff at his compound right now. It’s live on Channel Ten. Are you there ?”
    “Um, no. We’re … going back to our hotel to wait it out.”
    “Should I meet you? Which hotel?”
    “We won’t be there for a while. It’s the Hermitage, on—”
    “Yes, I know it. Let’s say at nine tonight? The bar in the lobby.”
    Just as I hung up, we pulled into the parking lot of the church and looked at one another with dismay. It was nearly