Act 2

 Sitting beside Sarah in her battered Volkswagen, Cindy tried to sort out her mixed emotions. Terrified, excited, regretful, and most of all, longing to be back cuddling up to Lindsay in her bed, but it just wasn't possible.

 While Sarah had assured her it was just a thing of convenience to have her come a day early, Cindy was quite certain that this was a first test, where New Faith determined how strong your ties to the outside world were. If you made it past the first two weeks into the introductory year, very little contact was allowed.

 She had bought an extra cell phone to give away, as private communication was said to be monitored and permitted only in case of emergency. Cindy was pretty sure that they wouldn't see it as such to keep Lindsay informed.

 "I'm so glad you're finally here." Sarah turned to smile at her when she had to stop at a red light. "I was so worried about you."

 "Really?" Prior to her unfortunate observations regarding Lindsay and Pete, Cindy didn't think she had much to worry about.

 "You seemed so sad, especially when you wrote me that last email," Sarah said softly. "I think our place will be great for you, clear up the confusion. I know it did for me."

 "Confusion about?"

 Sarah's gaze was on the road again. "Some of the choices you made... I take it that's why you'd been changing your mind and wanted to learn more about New Faith."

 Cindy was aware she was treading a fine line; inwardly, she wanted to roll her eyes at her formerly open-minded friend, but Sarah's behavior also worried her. It didn't matter now; she had to stay true to her persona. "Maybe," she admitted. Sarah had moved in with the New Faith people after the shooting at Mission Day School. Chelsea had never seen the men that had killed teachers and classmates of hers, because she'd been sick and picked up by Sarah earlier. Reason enough to be grateful, indeed.

 "No one will judge you. If we hadn't made mistakes ourselves, we wouldn't be here. But you'd better not tell anyone that your girlfriend is cop."

 If Sarah was aware of how she'd just contradicted herself, Cindy found no indication for it. "Why's that?"

 "Because they murdered one of us. And it's not the first time they got away with it."

 "Allan Pierce?"

 "If I were you, once we're there, I wouldn't mention that name all too often either," Sarah said dryly, almost familiar again.

 "Gotcha." Cindy leaned back in her seat, mentally filing away what she'd already learned. This was going to be interesting. She didn't know yet whether to be disappointed or relieved that none of these tidbits Sarah had told her between the lines showed any relation to the Hallelujah Man.

 ***

 "Sorry, I'm late." The door fell shut behind a breathless Jill, and Claire noticed with some amusement her friend's obvious relief that there was no body on the table.

 "Seems like you're not the only one. Any sign of the lovebirds?"

 Jill smirked. "Haven't seen either of them this morning. Seems like they are busy," she sing-songed the last word.

 "Yes, they are." Claire shook her head with a smile. "Getting Cindy ready for her assignment. Speaking of which, I found something in the Pierce autopsy report I'd like to share with you. Just waiting until they get here."

 Thoughtful now, Jill continued, "I don't know if Cindy's assignment is a good idea. The whole situation with New Faith is...very murky. On the surface, they seem like the perfect law-abiding citizens, pay their taxes, no problems with Children's Services that we know of. Except they seem to think the police have it in it for them wherever they go. They've filed numerous suits against police brutality in Arizona."

 "Makes you wonder what's beneath it all," Claire summarized.

 "I sure do."

 They spun around at the sound of Lindsay's voice. Claire thought that her surprise was probably showing on her face just as clearly as it was on Jill's: Cindy was nowhere to be seen.

 "Before you ask, Cindy left around 4 AM. Change of plans," Lindsay informed them curtly, making it clear that she considered that subject finished. "So what have you got, Claire?"

 Claire had no intention of letting her off the hook so easily, but the information she had was priority even over her own curiosity. "You all know that Mr. Pierce was supposedly drunk when he drove off with Beatrice?"

 "Yes." Jill made a disgusted face. "What was he thinking, getting behind the wheel with his girlfriend in the car when he was drunk?"

 "Maybe he wasn't thinking too clearly at all. Alcohol wasn't all that was found in his blood."

 "What else?" Lindsay definitely wasn't in the mood for small talk this morning.

 "A neuroleptic drug called chlorpromazine hydrochloride, better known as Thorazine. It's used in the treatment of psychosis."

 "The report didn't say anything about Pierce being psychotic."

 Which certainly wasn't the reason for Lindsay's irritation. Claire was determined to find its cause right after they'd finished this conversation. "He probably wasn't. There's no evidence of longtime use, so here are several possibilities: He was only recently diagnosed. That kind of medication needs weeks to become fully effective, so it wouldn't be surprising if there were still symptoms, like, let's say, paranoia."

 "He was also drunk," Jill reminded them. "Isn't it dangerous to mix alcohol with that kind of drug?"

 "It sure is, and if those meds had been prescribed to him, his doctor would have most likely warned him. Which gave me an idea, so I asked a psychiatrist friend of mine, and he said it was possible."

 Jill looked interested, Lindsay, like she was going to start tapping her fingers on the table anytime, so Claire decided to cut to the chase.

 "If you are perfectly healthy and dosed with an antipsychotic drug, the opposite effect can occur. Especially in combination with alcohol."

 "Someone wanted Pierce to freak out and get himself killed," Lindsay concluded.

 "His death didn't seem to be accidental after all," Claire agreed. "Maybe his girlfriend can shed some light on this."

 "Seems like she wants to shed light on anything but," Jill sighed. "What do you say we take this to the lunch table?" Her eyes met Claire's, and they silently agreed that there was more to be talked about over dinner than the news on Pierce.

 Lindsay just resumed her silent brooding, which indicated nothing good.

 ***

 "You're still thinking about Kyle Graham."

 "Aren't you?" Lindsay shot back, and Claire had to admit it wasn't too far off; she did have the occasional nightmare about the day Graham, who thought that the Hallelujah Man was somebody to admire, had almost shot her.

 "Sure, but this is different. If anything, it will make Cindy more careful."

"Right." Jill nodded. "She'll gather information, write her article, and we'll be back to hunting our current sicko sooner than you think. Linz, it's not like she's doing this on purpose. We're doing our job. Let her do hers."

 Lindsay didn't look much consoled. "Since when do you get to be the voice of reason?" she said gruffly.

 Claire smiled and squeezed her arm gently. "Since my sage advice obviously isn't enough. Come on, we'll keep you busy these two weeks. Count down the days with you. Relax."

 "Yeah. Like there's any reason to relax. Didn't we come here to discuss options on how to nicely ask Lazar for another talk?"

 Claire stole another look at Jill, the two of them silently agreeing that these were going to be two very long weeks.

 ***

 Cindy was glad she'd had the coffee and bagel in the car with Sarah. She'd sat in the uncomfortable chair for nearly an hour, which was making her back hurt. Having been up for a while, she was tired and hungry, and she could practically feel her blood sugar creeping lower. Another test for sure, New Faith wasn't for wimps, but she wouldn't mind lunch anytime soon.

 No such luck before she had her interview. It wouldn't be with Michael Beaumont, the leader himself. Sarah had told her that, at first, he had done all of them himself, but with the current size of the community and his growing responsibilities in turn, he couldn't do it all by himself anymore.

 Finally, she was called into the office by a stern looking woman in her late forties. She introduced herself as Delia, no last name, and motioned for Cindy to take a seat in the worn leather chair in front of her desk.

 "You have to understand that most of our members have come here via recommendation. There is a two-week orientation period which Sarah has certainly told you; after that, you and we both consider whether or not you stay for the introductory year."

 "It seems like a peaceful place," Cindy said vaguely. "I could use some peace."

 There was a flicker of scorn in the woman's eyes, and Cindy halfway expected her to say something, like, don't we all. Delia's disapproval had other reasons, though.

 "Why did you choose New Faith? As you know, these two weeks are not a vacation. You are supposed to take a look inside yourself, and see how much you're willing to change. You'll also be given a task based on your skills."

 "I want to do that, really. Change, I mean." Cindy wondered just how much Sarah had told the community about her and which aspects of her life a NF member would see necessary to change. Like, a relationship with another woman.

 Before Delia could answer, the door swung open without any warning knock. The man walking inside didn't seem all that spectacular, the short clipped beard and glasses and the overall appearance of someone who wouldn't stand out in a crowd. The utter self-confidence he radiated, the way his interruption was accepted without any second thought, would have probably given him away - if Cindy hadn't seen his picture before.

 "Delia, don't scare Ms. Thomas away, it's just the first morning," he said, smiling good-naturedly at Cindy as he extended his hand. "I am Michael."

 "Cindy," she returned, trying not to act as blindsided as she unfortunately was. She hadn't counted on meeting him so soon - but now she was sure that it was, like her early departure, no coincidence. Sarah had to have told him some facts, such as her job, and the reason for her confusion - and he was bound to be curious about her.

 "Nice to meet you, Cindy. Delia, why don't I finish Cindy's interview, and you go meet Zack? He was looking for you."

 While Delia kept a neutral face as she left the room, Cindy steeled herself, slipping further into the role of a woman who sought perspective and direction, and a change in her too-complicated life, like she had practiced for the past few days.

 From what she knew about him, Michael Beaumont wasn't a man easy to fool.

 ***

 "Hey," Lindsay said after knocking on the door frame. "You got a moment?"

 Tom looked up, the frown on his face indicating that his read wasn't a pleasant one. "Linz. Come on in."

 "I need to talk to Beatrice Lazar," she said without preamble. It didn't seem necessary with a case that practically had everyone in the department holding their breaths.

 His frown deepened. "You said there was no connection between the New Faith people and the Hallelujah Man."

 "Not that we know of. Claire just found something--"

 "Wait a minute. Why did you have Claire looking into that? I'm thinking you have your hands full with another serial killer case. This pursuit gone bad is for me to worry about. Unfortunately."

 "It might be more complex than we thought it was."

 "No kidding." Tom gestured for her to sit down, and Lindsay did, albeit hesitantly. He sighed. "I know you pulled her from that car, but that doesn't make it your case. It's not a homicide either."

 "This isn't about her losing the baby. And I'm not completely sure about the homicide yet." There was an awkward pause, and she hastily continued, before memories would arise that would be inappropriate to dwell on now. "I'm sure Beatrice knows a lot more than she let on in her first interview. And maybe we abandoned a possible relation to HM too early."

 "Says who?" It didn't take Tom long to make the connection though. "I'll be the last one to deny that Cindy Thomas has been an asset to many of your cases, but if I were you, I'd do my best to keep her away from New Faith.  Beaumont moving to San Francisco, Lazar, it's no coincidence. Whether that involves our killer or not, they're up to something. Soon."

 The fact that he shared her assessment somehow made her feel even worse about Cindy's assignment, and she wondered if it was a good idea to tell him. "I think you're right, and this bogus lawsuit is connected to it. So let me talk to Beatrice."

 Tom regarded her curiously with a hint of amusement. "Something else I should know?"

 "No, why, I... I  mean, no. There isn't." He'd been asking about the case, damn it. There was no reason to be sputtering like this.

 He considered her request for a moment, then said, "This had better be good, Lindsay. Be diplomatic, don't let her get away with anything, and make her change her mind about the Goddamned lawsuit."

 "Will do," Lindsay said with an improvised salute which brought the predicted headshake from Tom. It wouldn't be easy to get through to the woman, but the sooner they did, the sooner Cindy could return home, and that was one hell of a motivation.

 ***

 After the interview, Beaumont showed her around. The compound was much bigger than it appeared at first sight, with its school house, offices, living quarters and another building that housed the library, rooms where services were held and for meditation.

 There was not much reason or motivation to deal with the world outside.

 "I hear you've been working as a crime reporter. You must have seen some disturbing scenes."

 Cindy shrugged, knowing that this question was all but casual. Nothing about this, the two of them walking together, talking, was. It was more a continuation of the interview. "Sometimes, but I guess so have you when you were in the army."

 "Touché." He smiled. "You know we need to be careful; we want to offer our hospitality, but we also need to know to whom. I turned away from man-made authority. You know that we regard God, and the rules he gave us, as the highest authority - as I'm guessing that a young, educated woman like you would have taken the time to inform herself."

 Oh, flattery. "Sarah invited me before to come, so I read your website," she admitted. "It sounded like an environment where one can truly find oneself." Cindy wisely did not mention that most of what she'd found on New Faith in internet forums and such uncannily reminded her of Kyle Graham, and an attitude that was everything but peaceful.

 "So you don't want to work as a reporter anymore?"

 "At the moment, I just don't know." Lies always came easily to Cindy with strangers she suspected of wrongdoing.

 "Did you know that our publications are translated into eight languages, and read in more than twenty countries?"

 Cindy hadn't known that, but the implied message sent a shiver down her spine. And New Faith was supposed to be just one of the smaller groups with a very narrow-minded interpretation of the term 'family', among other things. Sarah had once been proud to be a single mom, but now saw it as a result of earlier failures.

 "That's... wow. Impressive," she said, and it wasn't faked a bit.

 "We still need someone who oversees this department here in San Francisco, as our editor-in-chief here just left. From what Sarah told me about your qualifications... it's something I'd like you to think about in the next two weeks."

 That was indeed an interesting offer considering the usual occupations of women in this community were in secretarial positions, teaching young children, or working in the kitchen. It came as no surprise, though, that Beaumont, New Faith's prophet, was a businessman, too.

 Two weeks from now, Cindy hoped that she'd be back at home, her story written and published. "I will, thank you."

 And before that, she'd go back to the library to take a look at those Bibles, one of which could have been in the Hallelujah Man's hands.

 ***

 Beatrice Lazar didn't seem to have consulted her lawyer, because she came alone, ten minutes before the scheduled 10 AM. She sat in the interrogation room, nervously wringing her hands.

 Lindsay could see none of the cold calculation she had expected of someone who planned to sue the hell out of the city knowing they didn't have a single chance. Lazar was extremely nervous, and failing in her attempt not to show it. Maybe there was a way to appeal to her common sense after all.

 Maybe she had waited for this offer.

 Leaving her place where she'd leaned against the wall, Lindsay took a seat opposite from the woman. "Ms. Lazar, thank you for coming. We have a few more questions regarding your accident."

 Disdain flashed in her green eyes. "Which we all know wasn't an accident."

 "Right. Allan Pierce abducted you and damn near killed you trying to escape from the police. His actions caused you to have a miscarriage."

 There was no answer, but Lazar's lips tightened in a grim line, her eyes growing bright. Lindsay allowed herself a brief moment of empathy, the flicker of an ever-painful memory on her mind, then she pressed on. "Why don't you tell us what really happened that day?"

 "That'll be for the court to decide."

 "Do you want to know what I think?"

 Beatrice shrugged in a way that was supposed to communicate that she couldn't care less. Again, her body language betrayed the attempt. Her foot tapping on the floor. Her hands, never still.

 "I think you're scared. We've been told that you wanted to leave New Faith, probably Allan, and start over with the baby." It seemed like a valid theory given Beatrice's very first statement when she'd still been in the hospital, and hopefully enough to draw her out. "Allan was trouble. He drank. He was psychotic. He wanted to get you back to them, didn't he?"

 Silence. Beatrice Lazar had gone deathly pale. "No," she said sharply, jumping to her feet. "No. It's a total fabrication by the police. I came here freely. I think it was a bad idea. Allan didn't do any of those things. New Faith doesn't allow drinking."

 Lindsay waited until she'd reached the door, then she said, "But he did, and now someone's supposed to pay. Was it Michael Beaumont who told you to sue the PD?"

 Lazar's head whipped around. This moment was on knife's edge; she would either cave or run. For Cindy's sake, Lindsay couldn't afford the latter. "Who are you protecting?"

 In the course of seconds, Lazar seemed to age. Her slow walk back to the table was that of someone who was carrying a heavy load. She sat back down, resting her face in her hands.

 "You got it all wrong. Allan wasn't trying to bring me back to New Faith," she said finally. "He was trying to get me out." Tears started welling up in her eyes. She began to sob.

 ***

 "What the hell is so new about you anyway?" Cindy mumbled to herself. Despite Beaumont's suspiciously generous job offer to a complete newcomer, her current occupation was to help Delia mail out brochures to subscribers from just about every corner of the world. Disturbing.

 Delia looked up from the letter she was typing. "Excuse me?"

"Just talking to myself." She gave what was hopefully a charming smile, and they both returned to their tasks. Cindy had skimmed over the content of the leaflets and flyers which were, if a bit more detailed, pretty much what you'd expect from every conservative religious group; nothing to determine what was so special about the New Faith. Or, new.

 She was bored and annoyed. She'd also woken up with a headache and sore throat this morning, the mundane task no real distraction from either. For the first time, she wondered if her boss, whose instincts were usually right on the money, had been wrong about the story.

 She'd been hurt to find out that Lindsay hadn't told her about the Bible order, but if Cindy was honest, that wasn't what it was all about. Bad timing, the moment when she'd found out about it, her frustration fed from a different source.

 Cindy wondered what Pete might be up to while she was cooped up in here. Or Scott, for that matter. Neither could be any good.

 She bent down to get another stack of flyers from the box on the floor, letting them fall with a pained yelp when her back protested.

 Delia jumped up from behind her desk. Cindy tried to breathe through the sudden pain, expecting the other woman to yell at her, but it didn't happen. Instead, Delia made her sit in the other chair, gathering the fallen papers. 'We choose our sins'.

 "Don't you worry," she said softly. "You can find the right path. I know. I've been there."

 Cindy thought of Officer Graham and his attempts to 'help' her with exactly that. She shivered. "I hope so."

 ***

 Nearly two hours later, Lindsay was getting increasingly frustrated. It wasn't like Lazar hadn't been telling her story, about her and Pierce, an ex-New Faith member whom she had met a year ago. Lazar had just moved to San Francisco from the Arizona compound, and Pierce had tried to warn her early on, but she didn't want to listen to him.

 She had no idea about the antipsychotic drugs, but she remembered that there had been something off about him. She didn't want to get into the car with him, because he had been drinking.

 There was more, though, Lindsay was sure of it, but she couldn't seem to find the right angle to get there.

 A soft knock on the door preceded Jill coming into the room, which had Lindsay surprised and relieved in equal parts. She needed a break, because while Lazar's story sure was a heartbreaker, she had given her nothing that could help them with understanding what the real deal about New Faith was.

 Jill introduced herself to Beatrice Lazar, then turned to Lindsay with a smile that showed a hint of triumph, enough to be hopeful. "Say you've got something for me to bring this to an end."

 "You bet," Jill whispered back. "Do you mind?"

 At this point, any interruption was a God-send, especially with the promise Jill had just made. "Go ahead."

 "Ms. Lazar, I understand your ex-husband filed for custody of your son shortly before you moved to San Francisco?"

 The guarded expression was back in a heartbeat. "Why are you asking me that?"

 Lindsay got an idea when Jill held her gaze for a moment, and then asked, "Your son, Danny. Where is he now?"

 "You can't help me. No one can."

 The pieces fell into place to form a terrible conclusion. "Danny is still inside, isn't he? That's what Beaumont has over you."

 The deep pain in Beatrice's eyes was all the answer Lindsay needed. That woman had lost a lot, her lover, the pregnancy, the promise of a life free of New Faith. It was kind of understandable that she would do anything not to lose the most important person in her life: her son.

 "If they're holding him in there against your will, there's a lot we can do for you. It's kidnapping."

 "And Nathan will win the custody suit. I lose either way."

 "Isn't getting Danny out of there the most important thing for now?" There was a hint of anger to Jill's voice. Lindsay had an idea as to where it was coming from, though there was no room to deal with it now.

 "That's right," she backed her up. "You work with us now, there's a chance the situation will be resolved quickly. The longer you wait, the more likely it becomes that your husband will win the case. Think about it, Ms. Lazar."

 "There's no way you could win the lawsuit," Jill added. "But you can help your son. We can."

 There was silence for almost a full minute. "Please help my son," Beatrice whispered finally, and for the first time, Lindsay really understood her words at the scene of the accident. She'd already known she'd lose the baby. Her plea had been for 10-year-old Danny, alone in the hands of her fellow New Faith members.

 ***

 Delia gave her the afternoon off. Cindy gratefully accepted this opportunity to spend a little time on her own in her room, making some notes even though a persisting headache made it hard to concentrate. So many people living in relatively close quarters brought a considerable noise level that didn't help with her condition either. It hurt to turn her head, and her throat felt sore. Worst possible moment to get sick. She'd taken some Tylenol and hoped it would keep that oncoming cold at bay.

 Sarah came to visit her, bringing Chelsea along. The girl hugged Cindy carefully. "Are you hurt?" she asked with wide eyes.

 Cindy sat up, regretting the abrupt motion instantly. "Well, a little," she conceded, smiling through the pain, relieved when the girl finally let her go.  "How have you been?"

 Chelsea looked at her mother first, then sighed. "Fine," she said. Sarah smiled. "She wasn't too happy to be taken out of school at first, leaving her friends, but it's so much safer here. You saw it yourself. Anything can happen to children in a public school."

 And you really think she's safer here? Cindy didn't ask the question out loud though. "I'm sure you did the right thing. So what are you two up to today? I must admit I still haven't quite figured out the schedule."

 "Resting is on your schedule now. I'm going to help out in the kitchen later. See you at dinner?"

 The idea of sleeping through it sounded so much better, but that wasn't what she was here for. "Of course."

 Cindy waved goodbye to Chelsea, gingerly sitting back down after the door closed again. She was reluctant to call Lindsay so soon, especially since nothing special had turned up yet, but she longed to hear her voice. She had yet to find out how mad Lindsay was for sneaking out on her.

 First of all, though, she'd pay the library another visit. Besides the vague Bible angle, she had to make herself familiar with the layout of the compound.

 ***

 "How much do you hate me?" she blurted out by way of a greeting.

 The small pause indicated that even if hate wasn't involved, Lindsay had not been pleased with the course of events, as she seemed to be searching for the right words. "I don't hate you," she finally said. "Can you talk?"

 Cindy breathed a sigh of relief. "At the moment, yes. And I actually have something to tell you." Trying to shift her weight, she couldn't stifle the painful gasp that escaped her.

 "Are you okay?" Lindsay asked worriedly.

 "Sure, just a little stiff and sore. I spent all day packing up some bad writing and sending it off into the world. I've been told though I've got a shot at chief editor."

 Lindsay's laugh showed her relief clearly. "Sounds like fun." The tone of her voice changed then. "I could think of something nicer, too."

 Cindy smiled, though the pain was still bothering her. The rush of warmth that came with Lindsay's words proved to be a nice distraction from it though. "Alright, they work, they pray, they're pretty conservative and paranoid when it comes to authorities. That's all on New Faith so far."

 "No hint of anything about to happen?"

 Cindy shrugged, wincing. "Hard to say.  I didn't see them stockpiling any weapons so far."

 "Okay, we wouldn't expect them to do that openly, right? Beaumont's buying your act?"

 "I think so." She mentally went through the interactions they'd had, the offer he'd made. Whatever Sarah had told him about her, there was no indication that he was overtly suspicious towards her.

 "Good. Listen, I want you to look out for a Danny Lazar. He's about ten years old and Children's Services will come looking for him soon, but until then, I need to know if he's okay."

 "Sure. Wait a minute, Lazar? In any way related to--"

 "Beatrice's son. Long story."

 Lindsay sounded weary at that, and Cindy wished they weren't separated right now. "I know we never talked about it. It must have been hard for you to be at that scene."

 She pictured Lindsay shrugging, as she said, "She already knew the baby wouldn't make it."

 They were both silent for a while, knowing that the subject would inevitably come up again at some point. Just now was not the time. "So what's your story?"

 "The Bibles indeed all look the same, but I had an interesting conversation. There was this guy a couple of months ago, spending his vacation here for the orientation period. Obviously, he talked about sin and punishment a lot. It's a reach - but it seems like he was a bit extreme even for the New Faith people."

 "You didn't happen to find out where he disappeared to?"

 "Unfortunately not. He said he'd come back early next year."

 "So he's still in the area. Any word on his profession?"

 "He seemed to be disappointed in the church. A former priest? That would explain the fibers, and it goes with Watkins' crime scene."

 "Or just dressing as one, because he sees himself in that role. Of which neither explains why he came to possess the recording of the prayers." Lindsay didn't say what they both seemed to think. It was all a whole lot of nothing, at least where the Hallelujah Man was concerned.

 "This is going to be the most pointless story that ever had my name on it." Cindy sighed.

 "I don't think you're capable of 'pointless'," Lindsay said warmly. "After all, with the Lazar angle--"

 A knock on the door sounded. "Thanks, but I really need to go now. I think I've got a visitor."

 ***

 "Lindsay Boxer?"

 "That's right." Lindsay had been telling herself upon opening the door to a fresh-faced girl from the delivery service that taking out her frustration over the interrupted phone call on her wouldn't be fair. When she saw the item to be delivered, she nearly reconsidered. Even if it still would have been unfair.

 "That's good. I was supposed to deliver these only to you. Beautiful, aren't they?"

 "Extremely."

 There must have been something in her tone that made the girl's face fall as she took a tentative step backwards. "Have a good day," she murmured, and turned to go.

 Lindsay looked at the flowers in her hands for a moment, white roses, uncomfortably familiar. She didn't need a card to identify the sender.

 "I don't think so."

 ***

 That evening, Claire arrived at Papa Joe's just in time to see Lindsay pouring what she hoped was only the first shot into her drink with a solemn expression. 

 "Whoa," she remarked, taking a seat across from her friend. "One of those days, huh?"

 "One of too many," Lindsay muttered. "It all started when Pete--"

 Or maybe it hadn't been the first one, after all. Lindsay usually didn't jump straight into these subjects. "Whoa. What about Pete?" Claire flinched, realizing she'd interrupted her rather harshly. More than that, she hoped there was no reason to get antsy about him.

 "He is - or was - in San Francisco. Can you believe that? He came for a visit, let himself in with the keys he still had and waited for me. With flowers."

 "I take it you were not amused." When Claire thought back on Lindsay and Pete, it was mostly with a trace of a guilty conscience. They had pushed so hard, wanting her to be happy so badly - and like Lindsay herself, they'd been blind to what was going on right in front of their eyes. Fortunately, that was an episode from the past - wasn't it? "Lindsay?"

 The woman in question gave her a dismissing hand gesture. "I nearly had to throw him out."

 Knowing Lindsay, Claire guessed this was only a very abbreviated summary of the actual events. "Did he threaten you?"

 "No. Was just pretty annoying. So sure of himself! He has changed, for sure. If I ever knew him. Not that it matters anymore." She downed the rest of her drink and signaled the waitress for another one.

 "When did this happen?"

 "The day we arrested Parker."

 There was a bit of an impulse to lean forward and slam her head against the tabletop. So that was the missing link, the strange ambience between Lindsay and Cindy that she and Jill had picked up on earlier.

 "Cindy was there?"

 The mere suggestion was enough to put a slightly panicked look on Lindsay's face. "No. She doesn't know about it, and I want it to stay that way."

 "You really think that's a good idea?" Claire asked doubtfully. Much as she wanted to put all the blame on Pete, Lindsay didn't have the best record of conflict management in a relationship. Cindy had a right to know, didn't she?

 She ventured further into hazardous waters. "Have you spoken to Cindy yet today?" It was merely rhetoric, of course, but they both knew that her question didn't refer to any information on the case the reporter might have for them.

 "Briefly, but let's wait for Jill, she should be here any minute." There was some hesitation, as if Lindsay wasn't quite sure whether to share what was on her mind or not. "I feel like she's withdrawing," she said eventually, the fear behind that suggestion coming across very clearly. "I feel it, and I don't know why, or what to do about it."

 "Withdrawing how?" It was hard for Claire not to show her own unease with the subject. She had been so thrilled to find out that Cindy and Lindsay were together, finally. Claire knew best, though, that love wasn't always enough. The notion betrayed the hard work that relationships could actually be.

 She couldn't imagine seeing these two fail any more than she could have imagined it with Ed and herself. Still, it had almost happened. Worse, she had seen that uncertainty in Lindsay before, months before she and Tom decided to get divorced. Or more correctly, before Tom had made that decision.

 "We talked about the case. For about five minutes. That was all."

 "Lindsay. She's under pressure. They're probably watching her." None of that was at all reassuring, but it had to be a valid explanation.

 "I was wondering... if it was the reason why she went inside. If I was the reason. I feel like it's starting all over again."

 "Linz, no." Jill had arrived in time to overhear the last part of their conversation. "Cindy is so much in love with you." That sounded just a tiny bit wistful and enough to make Claire look up, wondering what was up with their friends tonight.

 "She's also doing her job right now," Jill continued, "and if she's a bit focused there, you should be the first to understand."

 The insinuation was clear, carrying with it the memory of endless discussions, and always, guilt because they'd let Lindsay down back then - and worry that it could start all over again. They just wouldn't let that happen this time. And Lindsay herself seemed very much aware of what was at stake.

 "I know all that, and still, they're up to something. Beaumont doesn't have a sealed FBI file for nothing. I don't like these people."

 "The feeling, as we all know, is mutual," Claire said dryly.

 "Pierce killed himself and nearly a bunch of other people due to their interference, and they hold children hostage. Not to mention the fact that the FBI has an interest in them for a whole bunch of other reasons. All of that together is just..." She sighed. "I guess I just want her out of there."

 Claire laid a hand over hers. "We'll all feel better when we have her back. So now, what did she have for us?"

 Lindsay looked at their joined hands for a moment, then she started to relate her conversation with Cindy, "They had a visitor who sounds a lot like our man, but he's long gone. He could have been there and taken the Bible that ended up at Blake's. It's all pretty vague at the moment, but she was going to try and find out more from Beaumont. I also asked her to look out for Danny Lazar."

 At that, Claire shared a quick look with Jill, reading in her eyes the same relief that she felt. It was bad enough. It would have been worse if the man they suspected to be the Hallelujah Man had still been there while Cindy was with the New Faith people.

 "So we can only wait?" she concluded.

 "I guess so," Lindsay conceded grimly.

 ***

 "Child Protective Services? Do you have, by any chance, too much time on your hands, serial killer and all?"

 Jill restrained the impulse to sigh as she looked up to Denise standing in the doorway. "Actually, it might be related to Hallelujah Man. In any case, it's related to New Faith."

 Denise made a disgusted face at that, and to Jill's surprise, she said, "They're a bunch of narrow-minded crazy people. Much as I wish you'd actually see the work I give you as priority, any child that doesn't grow up in there is a lucky one."

 "It's about Beatrice Lazar's son."

 Denise nodded. "Thank God Boxer convinced her nicely to drop the lawsuit. The paperwork would have been endless."

 It could have been the imagination of her over-worked, sleep-deprived self, but Denise had actually smiled, so Jill offered a hesitant smile in return.

 "Let's see what we can do to help get him out and any children who don't belong there as soon as possible. With these people, you never know."

 Wonders never ceased... "Sure, I will."

 But she was already talking to Denise's retreating back.

 ***

 "Sarah told me you were working closely with the police."

 Here it goes, Cindy thought. He's changed his mind and thinks I'm too much of a risk to have me hanging around. So far, Beaumont had sought out her presence. It was hard to tell if he did it with all aspirants. If HM had been here, had the two men had long talks during walks across the compound?

 "Well, yes, I think she also told you that was part of why I needed a break."

 "It's a poisoning environment." It wasn't a question.

 Like one where children grow up seeing women being mostly relegated to the kitchen mostly and gays being condemned for their 'sins'? Give me a break, she wanted to say. Delia had given her a stack of brochures to read for herself, and she'd found everything she didn't want in her life. So New Faith claimed to offer a shelter from false authorities, to people of all faiths. Their version of charity didn't extend to everyone though.

 "It was hard sometimes," she said, truthfully, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

 "You might not be able to fully evade it here."

 "People have a hard time accepting what they don't understand. Is this about the pursuit?"

 Beaumont took his time to answer, his face blank of any emotion as he answered. "It's part of it. They're denying their responsibility, looking for someone to blame."

 "What can we do?"

 He gave her a long, considering look, but no, Cindy knew she wasn't going to be initiated into the secrets of New Faith that were worth an FBI investigation on the second day. She was laying the groundwork for him to trust her, though. He wouldn't be the first person she had fooled into believing they were dealing with a cute, harmless girl. "You're dealing with lots of harassment, I guess," she went on, letting her question stand in the room as if rhetorical.

 "We manage," he said. "Basically, this is a place people come to in order to avoid harassment. A shelter."

 "There are many children here."

 "We try to teach them, and give a real family to as many of them as we can."

 Which sounded like a good idea at first sight. Why was it that people's own vanities and stereotypes always made those good intentions turn ugly?

 "I imagine it's hard for them when parents want to leave and take them away from the safety they found." 

 "That hardly ever happens." Beaumont smiled. "Most of them come back in time - and they're always welcome here."

 "Do you think Beatrice Lazar will come back? After all, she left her son here."

 He didn't rise to the bait, though. "If it's God's will, He will bring her back into our midst, regardless of the obstacles that might be in the way. If not, he will find a family here. It wouldn't be the first time."

 ***

 Her next meeting fortunately took place inside, at the library. Her headache had taken a turn to worse in the bright sunlight, and she was beyond relieved to be able to sit down.

 "You're asking a lot of questions. Why are you so interested in the guy?" Cindy took a moment to assess if there was any suspicion to the young man's question. Zack had found her in the library the other day, and while they'd talked, he had mentioned their temporary guest who seemed off even in New Faith terms.

 Cindy shrugged, giving him a guileless smile, staying wary behind it. Zack seemed okay, but she couldn't let herself completely forget that he was coming from a similar belief system as Kyle Graham. Still, she had to have her answers, so she'd agreed to meet him again. He was 22, and about to get married next month, which hopefully put him on the safe side.

 "Bad habit. Curiosity," she said. "That, and he sounded really weird. New Faith doesn't seem to condone harsh punishment."

 "We don't. No one is without fault. Michael said he was going to learn that in time, but honestly, I'd be glad if he didn't come back." Zack looked almost startled at his own words. "You're not going to tell anyone, right?"

 "Of course not," she assured him. He seemed to know a lot about what Michael did and didn't approve, so Cindy had decided that making friends with him could be helpful.

 "He always said there are too many people who don't observe the Law of God, and that the Law of Men just wasn't enough at times," Zack recalled. "There was something he had to do first... and he'd be back afterwards. What about you? Do you think you're going to stay?"

 "I might."

 So. Not.

 "That would be nice." He smiled shyly, then looked at his watch and did a double take. "Sorry, I'm late. I'll see you."

 Cindy waited about two minutes, then she followed him, down the hallway, through the double doors and into another part of the building. He'd made that same hasty exit yesterday... Cindy was pretty sure it was something worth checking out.

 ***

 "I'll have you know that Beatrice betrayed us. The police department is not going to pay for Allan's death."

 Shocked murmurs greeted this announcement. "It is like it's always been," he continued. "They cover up their own failures, like before. And it's worse, they're going to come for the child to rip him from our care."

 "There will be others," a woman in her twenties said, holding on to her husband-to-be's hand. Zack's fiancée.

 Delia was nearly white with disgust. "We can't let them!"

 Everybody in the room seemed to agree with her; if anyone didn't, they didn't voice their opinion.

 "And we won't. Each of you know what is at stake here. Our freedom. Our lives. Arizona depends on us. No police will set foot on our grounds."

 "Never," a chorus of voices echoed.

 "Never," Michael Beaumont confirmed.

***

 Cindy had the schedule established alright after the 5th day. The meetings took place daily, in a wing that Beaumont had not shown her. They were about a dozen New Faith members who held the future of New Faith in their hands. Cindy felt sorry for Sarah who had believed she'd found a safe place for her and her daughter. It wasn't. She also felt sorry for Zack who seemed to believe in a safe future for him and the family he wanted to have with his wife-to-be, but also believed religiously in everything Beaumont told him.

 Beaumont's hate for the police remained mysterious, but he sure swore his followers in on it.

 Everyone in New Faith believed that it was the PD's fault when Pierce had been killed - except, Cindy had learned, this dozen who knew that he'd been dosed on neuroleptics, because they'd been in on it. Because they'd planned it.

 The office where they met had a computer terminal, but they always locked the door after themselves. She was pretty sure that if she found a way to the files on that computer, she'd get a lot more on Judgment Day than the rhetoric of these meetings. What would they ever do if the police came for Danny Lazar?

 She hadn't found the boy yet. Cindy had decided she wasn't going to call Lindsay again until that had happened.

 Her supply of Tylenol was about to run out, and the headaches and back pain hadn't gone away, but increased steadily. She'd been sleeping badly and had skipped lunch the second day in the row, because the smell of food and the noise level in the dining hall had made her feel nauseated.

 Cindy was beginning to feel just a little claustrophobic.

 ***

 The camera showed the woman alone in her apartment, brooding over files. Just like he was used to seeing her. She was restless, getting up, pacing, sitting down again. Tonight, she was going to sleep alone, a thought that filled him with utter relief. He wasn't sure how much longer he would have been able to stand the smiles and the kisses, the touches and soft murmurs.

 It wasn't right. It was his right and duty to rectify.

 On a day not far from now, he would.

 ***

 

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