"I live in a gated community," Geddes admitted.
"And do you like it?"
"I wouldn't live anywhere else."
Calhoun nodded. "Then you know what I'm talking about." He gave Barry a tolerant smile. "I'll be the first one to admit that they're not for everyone. Some individuals don't respond well to the stringent requirements for membership. But associations maintain standards that are necessary for the good of the community. That is what we do here. But to extrapolate from that that we are involved in kidnapping or other illegal activities is frankly ludicrous."
There was a lot more that Barry wanted to say, but Geddes was already closing his notebook. He raised a silencing hand as Barry started to speak, then thanked Calhoun for the interview and started toward the door, indicating that Barry was to follow.
The lights went off as they reached the exit, and he turned to see Calhoun seated at the table in exactly the same position as when they'd arrived.
He shivered.
"So?" Barry prodded as the door closed behind them. He knew the answer already but felt obligated to ask.
"I'm sorry," Geddes said as they walked back out to the car, "but I'll be recommending that we concentrate our efforts on searching for an outside suspect, a person or persons with a specific grudge against your friends. I do not believe that Mr. Calhoun is in any way involved in these disappearances--if they are disappearances--and I
don't think that your homeowners' association is responsible for or complicitous in whatever crime may have occurred."
"They--"
The agent held up a hand. "I understand your antipathy toward the organization, but I think you have allowed it to cloud your judgment.
The idea that your homeowners' association is behind the kidnapping of your friends makes no logical sense and there is absolutely no evidence to support it. As Mr. Calhoun said, the proposition is ludicrous.
This doesn't mean that we won't make every effort to locate your friends. Of course we will. The majority of our cases are missing persons, and it's very rare that we do not close our cases. This branch of the Bureau in particular has a stellar record in this area."
He stopped walking. "We know our job, Mr. Welch. And we're good at what we do. We'll also keep you apprised of any and all developments in the case. But I have to be honest, and I'm telling you right here and now that you're barking up the wrong tree."
/ wouldn't live anywhere else.
Barry looked at the agent, then nodded and started toward the car. "I
understand," he said.
And then it was all over.
Or at least it seemed to be. No progress was made in finding their friends, but a week went by with no fines or charges or intrusive action. And then another. And another. It was as though things had gone back to the way they were that first month, and Maureen found it easy to pretend that all was well. She helped Barry repaint the house brown with forest green trim, and they went into town and cleaned out his office, where, miraculously, everything was as he had left it. She also picked up a few clients from her E accountant web page.
And she was pregnant.
She was not positive at first. Her period always varied a day or two, and once it had even been a week late. But when two weeks had gone by and there were not even any signs of imminent menstruation--no bloating, no oily skin, no PMS--she knew that she was pregnant.
She'd had a feeling from the beginning that this time it was the real deal, but she didn't want to jinx it so she'd said nothing to Barry.
She was still not certain what his reaction would be. Irrespective of the chaos around them, she was not sure he was ready to be a father, not sure, despite his protestations to the contrary, that he ever wanted to be a father.
But she told him in bed on the night of the fourteenth day.
"I have news."
"Good or bad?"
"Under the circumstances, I'm not sure." She looked at him. "I'm pregnant."
"Are you positive?"
She nodded. "My period's two weeks late."
"That's great!"
He hugged her tightly. She hadn't realized how anxious she'd been, wondering and worrying about his reaction, and she was filled with a deep grateful joy at his obvious excitement. They ended up talking far into the night and, afterward, making love.
Corban had only one doctor, a general practitioner, and even if there hadn't been animosity between Bonita Vista and the town, neither of them would have been willing to entrust the health of their baby to him. So the next morning Maureen got on the Internet, did some research, and found the name of a respected obstetrician over in Cedar City. It was a long drive, but it was worth it, and they made an appointment to see Dr. Holm two days later.
Everything went well. Because of her age, she was technically in the high-risk group, but the doctor said she was healthy, practiced good nutrition, and had been taking the proper vitamins even before conceiving. She would have to have ultrasounds and anamnio , but he didn't foresee any problems. The only worry he had was that she was not immunized for rubella. German measles was known to cause serious birth defects, and he advised her to stay away from crowds, to not fly in airplanes, to not attend movie theaters or amusement parks, and to steer clear of recent immigrants who might carry the virus.
She called all her friends from California, then dragged Barry up to see Liz.
When she answered the door, their friend looked old and tired. She'd seemed fine when Maureen had gone up to the house with Lupe and Danna, but now all of the life seemed to be drained out of her. With Barry's arm around her midsection, Maureen put on a cheerful front and gave the glad tidings. She'd hoped Liz would be happy for them, excited by the news, but the dour expression that seemed to have been permanently etched on the old woman's face did not change. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked shortly.
Maureen frowned, uncomprehending. "What?"
Liz gestured around the hillside. "Couples are not allowed to have children in Bonita Vista."
"That's not true. The Williamses have kids. And I've seen teenagers at the tennis courts."
"The no-children rule is fairly new and those people were grandfathered in. But everyone who moved here within the past three years is forbidden to either procreate or adopt."
"I never saw that rule in there," Barry said, his arm tightening around her.
Maureen hadn't either, but the case of the ever-changing document had never been solved, and they still hadn't had time to go through the massive volume that housed the revised G, C, and Rs . She had no doubt that Liz was telling the truth.
"There was a man here a couple years back," the old woman said, her voice flat and unemotional. "Dent Rolsheim . He had two kids by his first wife back in Phoenix but she had full custody. He'd remarried and moved here and was fighting it, pouring every cent he had into trying to get his kids back. Finally, the case went to court and he was granted joint custody, with the wife taking them for the school year and Dent taking them for summers and holidays. The day after he picked up the kids and brought them back here, they disappeared. All of them. Dent, the kids, the second wife. Gone. No one ever heard from them again."
Maureen felt the grip of panic around her heart. "What if the association tries something like that when our little guy's born?"
Barry's jaw tightened. "Don't worry," he said. "We won't let them."
"Them?" Liz said, raising an eyebrow. "Us."
She slammed the door in their faces.
The Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions Article VI, Membership Rights, Section 3, Paragraph D: