The Perfect Veil, page 4
“None taken,” Rhonda replied, her tone world-weary.
“Anything else?” Jessie asked.
“Yeah, he had on blue jeans. He was in pretty good shape for an old guy, no fat on him. I couldn’t see his face because he was pretty far away and he had on a baseball cap.”
“Then how do you know he was old?” Karen asked.
“Because his skin was kind of leathery around the eyes and his hair—I could see it in the back. It was dark but had a lot of gray in it too.”
“You’re sure about that?” Jessie demanded.
“Yeah, it’s not like I’m old. My vision’s fine.”
“Okay, Eli,” Karen said, “Sergeant Ziegler’s going to hook you up with a sketch artist, okay?”
“I guess,” he said, “as long as it doesn’t affect my job.”
“You’ll be fine,” Karen assured him before turning to Jessie. “Can I talk to you in the other room for a second?”
Jessie nodded and followed her into the bedroom. Once inside, Karen closed the door behind them.
“I know you’ve been dying to tell me something for a while now,” Jessie said. “What is it?”
Karen walked back over to the nightstand and picked up the book she’d been holding earlier.
“Have you ever heard of this?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“It’s The Purifying Power of Potential: A New Creed for a New Era by Sterling Shepherd. He’s a self-styled personal improvement guru who runs an outfit called the Eleventh Realm.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Jessie said. “That’s the cult that operates over near Beachwood Canyon, right?”
“Shepherd wouldn’t call it a cult,” Karen said. “He’d describe it as a resource to unlock unlimited human potential.”
“That sounds a lot like what Addison Rutherford said in her outgoing voicemail,” Jessie noted.
“Exactly,” Karen said. “Between that line and this book, I think there’s a decent chance she’s an Adherent of the Eleventh Realm. And if she is, things just got a lot more complicated for us.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Livia Bucco wasn’t used to being patient.
Being “a” patient? Yes, that she was used to, she thought, chuckling at the wordplay. She’d spent most of her adult life in and out of mental institutions. But being patient? That was something different entirely.
Of course, lots of things were different now that she had the Principles to work from. She had to admit that, at first, she’d been skeptical that they would work. It was only a week ago that she’d been discharged from the Female Forensic In-Patient Psychiatric Unit at the Twin Towers Correctional Facility in downtown L.A.
When she first stepped out that front door, she was so scared that she was literally shaking in her tattered boots. But then she remembered what her good friend, Andrea “Andy” Robinson, had told her: When you feel like you’re getting into trouble, just follow the Principles, especially the Primary Principle; and lastly, always remember that your mind is your strongest tool. It can take you anywhere if you let it.
That’s what she’d done in the days since. When she had trouble getting admitted to the halfway house, she stayed patient, followed the Principles, and used her mind. Now she had a room and a bed. When the manager at the grocery store balked after looking at her application to be a bagger there, she applied the Principles and managed to get hired on a probationary basis. She even got a library card and a membership to the local YWCA, where she’d started swimming.
That’s where she was now, doing laps in the pool, wearing a bathing suit she’d picked up at a nearby Salvation Army store. She longed to visit Andy at Twin Towers to update her on her progress, but had promised that she wouldn’t. That was part of the deal. She had to show that she could stand on her own two feet. If she did that, Andy said that she’d know it, no matter where she was.
When she was done with her laps, Livia got out the water, toweled off, and headed for the locker room and the showers. Andy had told her it was important to shower regularly. People wouldn’t let you get close to them if you had strong body odor and Livia was making an effort to get closer to people. Besides, the place was so empty at this hour that she could shower without getting gawked at.
She stopped briefly to stare at herself in the mirror. Andy had advised her against doing that too often. She said that true beauty radiated from the inside out and that judging yourself too much on what was on the outside reinforced a bad self-image.
Livia knew she was right. Even now, as she looked at her body, she felt the familiar revulsion bubble up in her chest. She was well over six feet tall. Her stomach was big and her chest was small. Even with the showers, her skin was red and blotchy. She knew part of that was due to all those years on the street, as well as the drinking and the drugs. But she also had something that the clinic nurse had called Rosacea. It was one of the many reasons she got picked on as a kid. Because of that and her size, she got the nickname The Red Hulk, which stuck until she dropped out in 10th grade.
The self-loathing threatened to overwhelm her. Livia closed her eyes and pictured Andy Robinson standing in front of her, and began to quietly recite the Principles they’d discussed so many times in the psych unit chapel. As she did, she felt her breathing slow and a sense of calm return.
“You okay, Liv?”
Livia opened her eyes to see Kaylee McNulty walking by, wrapped in a towel, heading for the showers.
“Hi, yeah,” she replied quickly. “Just doing a little locker room meditation.”
“I should try that,” Kaylee chuckled. “Any way to reduce the stress, right?”
“Right,” Livia agreed, watching her go.
Kaylee was a sweetheart. A student at Southwestern Law School just across the 110 freeway, she volunteered at the Y a couple of days a week. She was the one who’d helped review Livia’s job application for the grocery store before she turned it in.
She was also incredibly petite and cute. Livia guessed she was a full foot taller than the girl. With her tiny body and effervescent disposition, Livia imagined that Kaylee was what a real life pixie cheerleader might look like.
The thought made her smile. She now felt like she once again had full control over herself. She recalled the Principles. She repeated the mantra that Andy had taught her: Your mind is your strongest tool. It can take you anywhere if you let it. Suddenly she had complete clarity. She knew exactly where her mind needed to take her.
With a sense of tranquility she’d never experienced before, Livia returned to her locker and undressed. Then she grabbed her towel, along with the machete hidden in her gym bag, and headed for the showers, where she could hear Kaylee softly humming to herself.
CHAPTER SIX
“Nothing?” Jessie repeated incredulously.
“Nothing,” Jamil said again, clearly embarrassed that he didn’t have better news.
“How is that possible?” she asked, as she and Karen leaned over his monitor in the research department.
She didn’t mean to sound so testy. It was just that they’d been back at the station for an hour now and so far, every lead that they thought they had was drying up. Jamil Winslow, HSS’s head of research, had been tasked with finding the location of Addison Rutherford’s phone, which was usually child’s play for him. Both Jessie and Karen were stunned that he hadn’t cracked it by now.
Jamil didn’t look too offended. Jessie had noticed that since he’d been named head researcher for the unit, something had changed. He was still polite and hard-working to a fault. But he was more relaxed. She knew that he was going to the gym regularly to add some muscle to his scrawny frame, which seemed to give him confidence. But most importantly, he didn’t take every critical comment personally anymore.
“It was there in the hotel until 11:06 p.m. and then the signal completely died,” he told them. “It’s hard to know what happened. Just removing the SIM card in a populated area like that with other phones and Wi-Fi and cell towers everywhere probably wouldn’t be enough to lose it entirely. Neither would just smashing it to bits. If the killer took her phone, they managed to disable it quickly and effectively, which suggests they knew what they were doing.”
“What about checking her call and text logs?” Karen wondered.
“I’m working on getting authorization,” Jamil said. “But once I do, it’ll likely take a few more hours after that to get the data from the phone company.”
“Okay,” Jessie said, managing to rediscover some semblance of self-possession after her brief, crotchety slip, “Still no luck on the hotel camera footage?”
“There’s lots of footage. That place was hopping,” Jamil told her. “The problem is the quality and angle of the cameras in the elevators and the lobby. First of all, it’s all black and white and grainy. I think this system is from last century. Plus, the cameras are positioned so high up that it makes facial recognition virtually impossible. I counted at least eight guys in baseball caps and jeans in that window of time but I couldn’t accurately tell you their ages within two decades. By contrast, the camera angles on the actual floors with the suites are pretty decent. If the camera for the 10th floor had been working, we might have something to work with.”
“So we’ve got nothing,” Karen grumbled.
“From a tech perspective, it’s not looking good,” Jamil said apologetically. “But if you bring me some suspects, I can always check their location statuses and see if any of them match. Otherwise, I’m out of ideas for now.”
Jessie sighed.
“I guess it’s back to you and me and some old-fashioned human investigating,” she said to Karen. “You want to fill me in some more on this ER situation?”
“Sure, let’s talk in the courtyard,” Karen said.
Jessie followed her out to the interior courtyard in the center of the rectangular Central Station building. Back in the Buckingham hotel suite, “ER” was the coded term that Karen suggested they use when referencing the Eleventh Realm. She said that the group was surprisingly powerful, having infiltrated a number of industries in Los Angeles, and that it would be advisable to discuss the group cryptically and in private whenever possible.
But before the discussion got any further, they had been inundated with requests from other officers on the scene, as well as forensics and coroner’s office personnel. This would be the first opportunity they’d had to discuss the group confidentially since then.
They walked across the grass to the center of the courtyard, where there was one bench completely shaded by a large tree. Though they were protected from the worst of the wind, it was still chilly and as they sat down, Jessie zipped up her jacket. Karen looked around to make sure no one was nearby before speaking.
“Did you get a chance to do any research on the group?” she asked.
“A little bit, in between calls with all the different units,” Jessie answered. “Most of it was stuff I already knew: charismatic guy starts a self-help group, gets devoted acolytes who pay big bucks for his wisdom, people who get disenchanted and leave are maligned by those who stick around. Is that about right?”
“That’s a solid Cliffs Notes version,” Karen said. “But it’s more complicated than that. Working at Hollywood Station for so many years, I got to see the inner workings of the group up close. What you said is true. To many in the general public, the Eleventh Realm comes across as a group interested in self-actualization. They have seminars and retreats, all of which are incredibly expensive, by the way. And through those events, Sterling Shepherd has accumulated a cadre of influential supporters. Many are in the entertainment industry. Some are in politics and finance. But he also has rank and file supporters, a number of which are in law enforcement.”
Karen said that last line in a barely audible whisper.
“It sounds a lot like some other organizations in town that I could name,” Jessie noted.
“In many ways, it is. They’re incredibly secretive, which is what worries me most. If Addison Rutherford was an Adherent and her death was tied to the group, it’s going to be like pulling teeth to get anything out of them.”
“So you think she’s one of them because she had that book, The Purifying Power of Potential?” Jessie asked.
“That’s only partly why,” Karen explained. “First of all, she didn’t just have the book. I flipped through it. It was highlighted with hand-written notes on almost every page. She studied that book. For Adherents, it’s like the Bible. They refer to it reverently as P3. And then there was her voicemail. Did you hear her wish callers ‘potential unlocked?’”
“Yeah—what does that mean?”
“It’s part of Shepherd’s philosophy about ‘unlocking Adherents’ full potential.’ That’s what they’re called by the way—Adherents, not members. There’s a lot more to unpack but that’s the headline—unlocking full potential. And then there’s the part where she said that callers should share their truth and that she’d respond in kind.”
“Right,” Jessie recalled. “What was that all about?”
“That’s standard Realm-speak,” Karen said. “Adherents, no matter whether they’re brand new or long-time veterans, are supposed to regularly participate in something called ‘Truth Sessions,’ or ‘TS’ for short, which is basically a euphemism for confession.”
“Like Catholicism?”
“Only on the surface,” Karen said, dropping her voice to a whisper as an officer passed by on the way to a far corner of the courtyard for a smoke break. “I’m a Presbyterian these days, but to the best of my knowledge, Catholic priests don’t have two people in the same confessional at the same time, facilitating both of them trading admission of sins while the whole thing is recorded.”
“What?” Jessie asked, flabbergasted.
“Yeah, it’s a thing. The facilitators are called Truth Catalysts or ‘TCs.’ Everything in TEROTH has an acronym or an abbreviation.”
“You’re losing me here,” Jessie said, holding up her hands. “I thought ‘ER” was the shorthand for the group. What’s TEROTH?”
Karen laughed as if her young son had asked some ridiculous question like ‘are clouds alive?’ Jessie was getting the strong sense that her partner’s knowledge about this group came from more than just professional experience.
“‘ER’ isn’t a term they use,” Karen clarified. “It could be confused too easily with the hospital. That’s why I’m comfortable using it with you. No one who overhears us will make the association. TEROTH isn’t something widely used in the outside world. It stands for The Eleventh Realm of Truth and Harmony. It’s how Adherents refer to the group among themselves. It’s kind of like an inside joke; only it’s no laughing matter.”
“I guess I don’t get the joke.”
“There’s no reason you should,” Karen told her. “For them, the ‘E’ is silent, so it becomes TROTH, which sounds a lot like ‘truth.’ Pretty lame, right? Anyway, the point is, through these Truth Sessions, the Realm’s leadership gathers all kinds of personal information on their Adherents, which can be used as blackmail fodder against them if they ever try to leave. That means it’s going to be incredibly hard to pry any information out of people close to Addison, who will likely fear repercussions.”
“What about her?” Jessie asked. “What might they have done to her if she had tried to leave?”
“That depends on who you believe,” Karen said. “According to reps for the Realm, they have no issues with former Adherents who leave. They merely defend their good name when attacked by what they call the Disavowed, or DVs for short, because, of course that’s what they’d be called.”
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Jessie said.
“It’s not as clever as they think it is, right?” Karen said, before continuing. “Anyway, the ‘Disavowed’ tell a very different story. There are allegations of harassment, threats, even physical violence. And while the Realm consistently denies those accusations, they’re pretty open about their use of what they call Rightful Targeting.”
“Another glossary term?” Jessie asked.
“You wouldn’t believe,” Karen quipped. “This one asserts the right to come back hard at anyone who makes what they consider false claims against them. That might include picketing outside a DV’s home or business, calling their boss to make disparaging comments about them, often using information gleaned from a TS, that is, a Truth Session. They’ve set up entire websites and Facebook pages devoted to demonizing people who left. And it can get worse.”
“Worse how?” Jessie pressed.
“If they have friends or family in the Realm, those Adherents are prohibited from communicating with the Disavowed other than to make pre-scripted pleas to return to the fold. They can’t directly respond to any comments or questions from the DV and they have to make their plea to return in the presence of a Proctor, who is basically a Realm-sanctioned security officer.”
“That seems pretty restrictive,” Jessie said.
“That’s not all. Adherents in good standing can’t have any physical contact with the DV either. Then, once the plea is formally made, the person being coaxed to return is considered Provisionally Disavowed. If, after eleven days, the Disavowed hasn’t returned to the Realm, made an offering, and engaged in a comprehensive solo Truth Session with just a TC present, the Disavowal becomes permanent.”
“What does that mean?” Jessie asked.
“It means that communication with all Adherents in good standing is irrevocably cut off. No meeting for coffee. No calls on birthdays. No e-mails. No letters. No waving from across the street. No asking someone else to pass along a friendly word. If communication of any kind is uncovered then the Adherent who communicated or willingly received the communication is also Disavowed, only in their case, without any provisional period.”
Jessie shook her head in disbelief.
“I’ll admit that all sounds pretty bad,” she acknowledged, “but it seems like these Disavowed people can at least start over fresh when they leave. Remember, after I was framed by my ex-husband, cops thought I was disloyal and the public thought I was a racist. I had people outside this very station, picketing me personally. I was hanged in effigy. That really sucked, but I dealt with it.”
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