The Sons of Man

The Sons of Man

  A Sonya Neslund mystery

  by

  Laura A. Ellison

  Copyright 2015 Laura A. Ellison

  Part I

  Post-Trauma

  Chapter One

  The Greyhound bus station in St. Louis was big enough to hide in. Annie wanted a cup of coffee, the journey on the bus from Seattle exhausting.

  She carried an overnight bag over her shoulder and a pre-paid cell phone she bought with cash. Her escape had not been well-planned, but her instincts were right; Timothy was following her. She had cashed in her ticket to New Orleans, where she had friends, for a ticket to Marine, Michigan at the last minute. However, she would have to wait a few hours to board the Chicago bus.

  Annie wasn’t sure if she was trembling from the cold or fear. She had never travelled alone; always in the company of family or friends. She had spent one year at Washington State University when she met Timothy. He brought her into the church, his perfect Mankind bride. Timothy was ten years older, a Marine who had served in Kuwait. The whole family had loved her. Annette Union had been the daughter of alcoholics, her father a reclusive Vietnam vet. She had worked at a Wal-Green’s to pay for her own school clothes and had to take the bus all through high school in Marine, a scholarship taking her to Washington. Two years later, she was living in a seven-bedroom home in Seattle, worth millions. The Church of Mankind enjoyed its tax-free status and Annie enjoyed being the daughter-in-law of the late prophet, Marshall Union. When he died, the delicate foundation of The Church started to crumble.

  Annie slid into a booth, pulling the scarf away from her lips and chin. She sipped the hot coffee, the cup reassuring between her hands. She had dressed warm, more covered than she needed to be; the wool coat buttoned up tight, the knitted cap with a flap that covered her forehead, obscuring part of her face. She was far enough away from the Pacific Northwest to be unrecognizable. Her bag stayed at her side. She carried a few hundred dollars and a pre-paid debit card, also loaded from cash. She had stolen the money from the tithe at the Seattle church. The cash was kept in a bag in the safe downstairs. She had been one of the few who knew the combination. She felt guilty, but there was no other way out. Timothy would never give her money, she always had to ask. She was not allowed to work, devoting her time to The Mission.

  Annie had been a believer in Jesus and his miracles since a child, when her grandmother would take her to a Baptist church in Marine. While in college, she was lonely on campus in a strange town. The Church of Mankind had easily reeled her in. The Church’s belief system compelled her, touched her so deep, that she couldn’t see The Church as a cult.

  Brainwashing. Expensive course work. Ponzi schemes. Lies. Children were adopted from other countries, then abused and treated like slaves. Members suffered physical and psychological punishment. Families separated, taken for their savings. They sold their homes to go on Church missions around the world, coming home broke and disillusioned. If these people complained, they were locked up in a trailer in the woods near Spokane, on property owned by The Church. Forced to fast and pray. Freezing in that trailer and sweltering in the summer. Annie’s best friend died out there two weeks ago, and that was the incentive to make Annie start putting together a plan for escape.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, looking forward to sleeping on the bus, in the dark, on the road.

  Timothy knew she had been unhappy for the last four years, ever since the prophet had died. Marshall Union had died an alcoholic recluse, living in an R/V with his daughter Frieda and her husband. Annie had never been fond of Henry Lang, who seemed more interested in the prophet’s wealth than The Mission. Frieda was a cold woman who had too much control over her father. Annie knew Frieda wanted control of The Church, willing to deceive Timothy to do it.

  Somehow, neither Frieda nor Timothy ended up as the head of The Church. Marshall appointed a trusted adviser named Lance Hawkins and his wife Sophia. After Marshall’s death, Frieda and Timothy became allies in a lawsuit against The Church. In the meantime, Hawkins started insisting on more strict rules and punishments. Annie could tolerate it all, devoted to the beliefs and mission of The Church of Mankind, until her friend June died of a so-called cerebral hemorrhage at The Sweat Lodge, the name for the trailer with no heat or A/C or water. June had died of malnutrition and dehydration, on her knees praying to the wood-carving of Jesus Christ in the living room of The Sweat Lodge. Once Annie’s devotion had been worn away, she no longer saw anything holy in The Church of Mankind, only man.

  She bided her time at the station, deciding to have a sandwich with more coffee. She read a magazine until the time came to wait in line at the gate for the Chicago bus.

  She was exiting the Burger King, the hat pulled down, the scarf back over her chin and lips. Her bag was hanging from her right shoulder. She found the gate, a line already forming.

  She looked around, not thinking she would see a familiar face, but there he was; Timothy, his dark eyes searching for her, a young man at his side. She recognized Bob’s son, who was no longer in The Church. Timothy was also out, the lawsuit separating him from what he considered his birthright.

  Annie put her head down, wishing the line would move faster. Out of the corner of her eye, just yards away, Timothy was gesturing to Bob’s son, his movements jerky and impatient. Timothy was not an alcoholic like his father, but he could be controlling and manic, the mood-swings pulling him in different directions. He had not threatened to kill her, but she could not end up like June and the other members buried on that property. Frieda’s stepson had told her about the graves he found, but she had refused to believe him then. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Annie tried to control her trembling. By the time she gave the bus driver her ticket, she was near tears, swallowing the lump in her throat. She boarded the bus, grateful Timothy had not seen her. She locked the bathroom door behind her, bursting into tears.