Fear Thy Neighbor (52)
“Anything. I’m not picky,” she told him.
“I’ll get the works,” he said, then ran his finger across the phone, tapping on the number. She wondered how he knew there was pizza delivery on the island. She hadn’t seen any pizza joints, but that didn’t mean much. These days, you could get pizza anywhere. When he spewed off Valentina’s address, an alarm triggered in her head. How did he already know her address from memory?
He placed their order, then clicked end.
“I can guess what you’re thinking by the look on your face. The house numbers are on the front of the house, and there’s only one main road. Plus, Terri’s Diner makes a mean pizza.”
That was the diner that advertised in the paper. “Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re aware of what goes on in this insane world.”
Ali nodded in agreement. “Are you going to tell me what you’re searching for? I’m intrigued, to say the least.” Not much of a conversationalist, she was trying her best to maintain what little social graces she possessed.
“The cult story goes way back. I can tell you about this part without revealing too much. It’s just my job, nothing personal. It’s not that I can’t trust you, it’s just crucial I keep a few things to myself for now.”
“I understand. You’re not obligated to tell me anything you don’t want to,” she said. Though Kit didn’t know it—at least, she didn’t think he did—she was very, very good at keeping secrets.
“This particular cult, the Koreshan cult, was founded by a young guy, Cyrus Teed. This was back in the late 1800s. He was into different types of pseudo-science—eclectic physics and alchemy. Story goes, he was messing around with an experiment that involved electricity and shocked himself to the point of passing out. During his so-called unconscious state, he believed he became the messiah. From that moment on, his mission was to save humanity through science. Not too far off the mark in those days. Everything was new, unexplored. Cyrus changed his name to Koresh, the Persian word for Cyrus, and from there, he started the Koreshan Unity organization.
“Cellular cosmogony was Cyrus’ theory that the earth and the universe were contained in a concave sphere or a cell. They did all kinds of experiments. Their most famous, or infamous, if you will, was in Naples on the beach. I won’t bore you with all the scientific details, or what they believed to be scientific at the time. Fast forward to the early twentieth century. Cyrus proposes his movement live on through his creation, calling it the new Jerusalem. His followers, or rather his cult members, had what one considered strange beliefs. Sacrificial stuff, not unlike more modern-day cults. They formed a commune in Estero. Everyone shared the work, and no one received any form of payment, all working in order to keep this new faith, Koreshanity, active and thriving. Cyrus bit the dust in the early part of the twentieth century. In the sixties, there were still four remaining members. These folks deeded the land to the state, which is now known as Koreshan State Historic Site. I believe the cult is still active today. They’ve changed locations and methods, though now they’re eviler than they were then.”
Ali listened intently to his story. “So you believe this Cyrus still has followers, and they’re here? On Palmetto Island?”
“I can’t say where the cult is, but I know they’re still active. I’m sorry I have to keep repeating myself. It goes with the job.”
“So you’re here to . . . what? Bring them to justice for whatever it is they do? Or what?”
He laughed, his jade-green eyes shining. “You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
There was the sound of footsteps, then a knock on the door. Ali got up to answer, but Kit stepped in front of her, preventing her access to the door. “My treat, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, unused to this kind of behavior from a man. He was a little bossy, or assertive, she wasn’t sure which, but she liked him. He was handsome, intelligent, and had an important job; plus, he’d won a Pulitzer Prize for his work. She knew he was out of her league. For now, she would take pleasure in the few minutes it took them to eat the pizza. She could pretend they were a couple, just having a casual conversation over dinner.
He returned to the kitchen with a giant pizza box. The aroma of roasted tomatoes and garlic penetrated the cardboard, causing her stomach to grind in hunger. She’d been used to being hungry for so many years. Now, however, it reminded her of the past and how far she’d come.
“I’ll find plates,” she said. She opened a few cabinets before finding a large supply of paper products. She took two paper plates and paper napkins, placing them on the counter. Kit put a slice on a plate, gave it to her, then did one for himself.
Alison bit into the crusty dough topped with thick mozzarella cheese, bacon, ham, and sausage. There were also black olives, onions, and green peppers. She could only imagine what her breath would smell like after she finished eating. Not the time for a first kiss.
Why was she having these kinds of thought—and now, of all times? She should be focused on Renée and Valentina, not knowing if either was safe. Instead, she was in another woman’s beachside mansion with a man she barely knew, eating pizza.
Is this what normal people do during a crisis? Alison didn’t know for sure, but instinctually, she knew Valentina would insist she do exactly what she was doing if she were here.