Page 48 of Letting Go

"Not an answer sir," says Mateus.

Raymond sighs and his posture sags. He glances around the room at us. "Do you boys have any idea what it's like to have a hundred souls looking at'cha. With all their hopes and dreams? Absolutely convinced you're going to be able to help them?" He takes another sip of the amber liquid. His laugh is raspy. "I wouldn't wish that on anybody, not even my brother."

Jackson looks at me and I nod.

"Your brother is Reed Clifton then?'

"He is. My brother has always been…let’s say a bit off. But he's my baby brother. What can I say? These threats are from him. I'm sure of it." He sighs. "I don't think he'd hurt me. I think this is a big bluff—you know struttin' his feathers. He's been gone for a long time. Nearly a decade."

Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. Just like Chloe.

Raymond glances at us again and then leans forward conspiratorially,

trying to create a sense of trust, of taking us into his confidence. I wasn't biting. Why do you have a picture of Chloe? is what I want to scream at him.

Instead, all I muster is, "Why are you after him?"

Raymond's eyes grow dark. There's a shadow and he looks at the ceiling. "Because I think he's after a girl. A young woman."

His next words don’t seem to make any sense.

"We each have a calling, my brother and I. Mine is to help people believe in themselves. His, is to make people believe in him." He pauses and then points to the ceiling. "Or Him."

Jackson looks up from his phone which has been in search mode since Reed's name was mentioned.

"'Reed Clifton, born Baton Rouge, Louisiana, is believed to be the founding member of a religious group called Everlast.'" He stares at the phone a moment longer, continuing to read. "A 2018 documentary named Clifton as the possible leader."

"Time is money boys, and I'm gonna save you some. Everlast is a cult."

Slowly, and without any drama, Raymond begins a story I know will somehow touch Chloe and I can’t bear it. Mateus shifts on his feet, sets his phone on the table, and begins recording.

"Ten years ago, Reed was supposed to finish college, and he did, but he didn’t come back home. He started—couch surfin'—just staying at school, but with no job, no idea what to do next. But like me, he has a gift. People seemed to like him, to follow him. He can be," he swallowed the last of his Scotch, "very charming and even more persuasive. He wrote letters home, but then even those dried up. The only way we ever hear from him now is through attorneys. People trying to find him to sue him."

"For what?" Mateus is as still as stone.

"For stealing their money." He pauses. "And their children."

That's when I'm stomach punched. "Where did he go to school?"

"Orono."

She'd run off with him. Chloe had run off with this asshole brother to some cult.

"He convinced a lot of young women, well men too, but mostly women to travel with him to Montana. I loaned him money to buy a piece of land before I really understood what he was trying to do. But then he moved to West Virginia."

"Why?" Mateus's voice is hard.

Raymond shrugs. "I don't know, but I stopped hearing from him after that. We all did. The whole family. Broke our mama's heart."

Jackson holds up a hand. "Everlast was founded nine years ago. The religious leader, known as the Seer professes to hear the word of God and those who follow him are Seekers."

"My brother is the Seer. He claims to hear God."

My hands are sweating. It’s all coming back to me. The documentary. Everlast One.

The Seer is this creepy guy who basically brainwashes everyone, who shaves everyone's head military-style and then tattoos an S on the soles of their feet, like branding them. The cult only recruits beautiful people and then applies stringent rules: no sex, no music, no touching. Only he is allowed to "open" them. No children, which means many forced abortions. Calorie restrictions are set for anyone the Seer decides needs to be thinner. Then there's mandatory two-hour workouts, seven days a week. There's the filming, archiving, writing scribes … making it about him, all the time.

It's disgusting.