Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(45)

“The most selfless, wise man I’ve ever met,” Helen said. The girls nodded in agreement.

“Is-is he psychic?”

“Do you believe in psychics?” Helen asked.

“Oh, yes,” I lied. I did believe some people were faster and more adept at reading people and situations, then quickly putting together an accurate conclusion before others could. That’s precisely what we did at Behavioral Analysis. A hundred years before we’d be considered psychics. But “Carol” wasn’t that deep a thinker. “I had a psychic advisor in New York. He told me he saw a baby coming into my life, and a week later my husband told me about his mistress. Sage was usually right.”

“Mathias hates being called a psychic,” Britt said. I’ll bet he does, I thought. “He’s just really smart and willing to think outside the box. ‘Keep your eyes, heart, and soul open and the possibilities are endless.’?”



“Did Mathias say that?”

“Yeah. It’s so true, right?” Britt said.

“Right,” I said.

“He’s really good at opening minds to the truth about this plane of existence, the universe, and our place in it,” Nessa said. “How we can use these truths about the universe to expand our energy and make our journey the best it can be.”

“But where did he learn all this?” I asked. “India or something?”

“No, but he has traveled there,” Helen said with reverence. “He’s traveled all over the world. Been on almost every continent. He’s lived on Park Avenue and on the sidewalk. He can and has talked to movie stars and felons alike. He always knew, even as a teenager, to remain open to all of the universe’s signs and experiences. To take them and the lessons from all the people he has met and remember them. Learn from them. And one day he realized he could help. That he should help. So he’s used those lessons to save all our lives. He saved me from killing myself with one simple conversation. Everything he said made sense. I’ve known him for over a year, and he has never uttered one word of nonsense or white noise.”

“Did he already own this place and The Apex when you met him?” I asked.

“No. We found The Temple a few months after meeting and The Apex months after that,” Helen explained.



“Did you all buy it?”

“No, it was all Mathias,” Helen said. “He visualized, he asked, he believed, and he found not one but two havens for spiritual enlightenment.”

So Mathias was a drifter who somehow found enough cash to buy or con people out of two homes? Hell no. Not suspicious at all, I thought as we put the lasagnas in the oven. I had a ton of questions cycling through my mind, like was he ever in prison, had she seen the deeds to either property, and if she knew his real name, but I found no way to work them in. I missed being able to just interrogate people.

We began making the pie crust from scratch. I was going to be a regular Gordon Ramsay by the time I left. In between instructions, I continued my fishing expedition. “So how did you meet Mathias, Helen?”

“I actually met his partner, Ken, first. We worked together at the meat processing plant.”

“Partner?” I asked.

“Lover. No, too much flour, sweetie. The crust will have no taste,” Helen said.

I stopped adding flour. “His lover? How long have they been together?”

“Off and on for years. They met on Mathias’s travels,” Helen said, working on her own crust. “Kenny had just gotten out of a fifteen-year prison stint and was attending NA meetings. He’d just broken up with this other man, a real bastard, and was staring at his crack pipe when Mathias passed him on the street. Mathias sat down and just talked to Kenny. For hours and hours, and Kenny never felt the urge to use again. I met them both months later.”



“Kenny was in prison for that long?” I asked nervously. “He-he didn’t murder anyone or anything?”

“No. His old partner got him involved in drug running and fraud,” she assured me. “He may look terrifying, but he’s really a big softie. And he’s certainly not violent, especially now.”

“I was arrested a few times for prostitution and possession,” Nessa offered, I think to make me feel better. “None of us are saints here. I’ll bet yourself included.”

Well, I certainly hope I’m the only one with two deaths on her conscience, I thought. “I…used to drive drunk and high on Xanax around the Hamptons. I got a DWI. But everyone else did the same thing; I just got caught.”

“You still could have hurt someone. Or yourself,” Nessa said.

“But I’m sure she learned her lesson,” Helen said, “as we all have from our past mistakes. Just like Kenny. And me.”

I sensed that Helen wanted to end this topic, and I couldn’t press her about Kenny without raising suspicion. Really, I felt I couldn’t ask that many more questions on any subject before they noticed that was all I was doing. A new tactic was required. I began rolling the pie dough with a frown and hung my head. It took a minute for Helen to notice my pout, but she did take the bait. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”

“I just…it’s stupid, but I was remembering our times in the Hamptons. Patrick got the house in the divorce. I loved going there. It was my haven. Anytime I was stressed I’d just drive to the equestrian club and get on Jellybean and ride for hours. During the divorce it was the only activity that kept me from slitting my wrists. It-It’s stupid, but it felt like that horse was the only friend I had in the world. I just…all of a sudden I missed her. He sold her after the divorce.”