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while they were there. Once they were adults, the girls could decide if they wished to stay or go on with a more traditional life. Some stayed. Some went. They always knew that they’d be welcomed for visits as adults. However, once they became adults, the male children needed to make their own way elsewhere. No men had lived at The Grove.

“With the Great Depression, many men were desperate. The women decided to allow one of the barns to be turned into a male dormitory. And a new man arrived on the scene. Mother Dot was very pleased. A doctor from New York, his family lost everything in the crash. The Grove would certainly be glad to have a doctor. He was given a cabin to live in and work from. Ward Blackburn was his name.”

Finley caught my eye. “Our person of interest is Modesty Blackburn.”

Interesting. I nodded. “Was The Grove considered a cult?” I asked.

“No,” Gupta explained. “Well, not in the beginning. The distinctions and designations are hard for us to tell now. Secrecy is nearly absolute in the current iteration. A cult uses psychological control. None of what was happening under the women back in the 1920s was psychological control—except women holding money and power away from men. However, the secret rituals were to be kept secret. From what we can tell from the histories written by the women, they were having a great time being free of men’s rule—including exploring their own sexualities.” He coughed into his fist. “Back to Blackburn. He liked the setup at The Grove and wanted it for himself. Instead of being a laborer, he wished to have the women serve him. How could he make this secret society of liberated women into a subservient society dominated by the men, and him in particular? Well, we’ve pieced this together as best we can. Back in the time that Dr. Blackburn arrived, the puberty rituals lasted for three days. The first day the women who were already initiated went to the center grove to plan and dance and eat and enjoy. The next day the young ladies who had gotten their menstrual cycles that year would be invited to join for their ritual. On the third day, they’d all party together. It is reasoned that Dr. Blackburn, using his chemistry background, poisoned the punch, thereby killing all of the women who had been through the rituals. We believe this was studied by Jim Jones in Jonestown, killing his followers with potassium cyanide in the punch.”

“I’ve never heard of this place or this event,” I said. “You’d think it would be part of American lore.”

“The secrecy of the society and the upheaval at the time…” Gupta ticked his head back and forth. “At breakfast, the doctor described a vision he’d had in the night. He was told that god would smite those who had abused the rule of the lord. He, Blackburn, would be put in their place as the leader of The Grove. He said he planned to discuss this that day with the elders.”

“Who were dead,” Prescott said.

“Right. They loaded up a truck with their bodies and left. We believe they were put on a boat and taken out to sea. Blackburn went back to The Grove, where the ritual of pubescents became a wedding ceremony that he presided over. Each man was told his number in The Grove hierarchy. In numerical order, the men could pick their bride from amongst the young women. The girls were traumatized by all of the women—their mothers and grandmothers, aunts and friends—dying. They went along, believing that god had done this. Since there were two more girls than men, Dr. Blackburn chose the first three wives that day, setting up polygamy as a standard. The men replicated the life that the women had led. Except now, the girls were not compensated for their work—it was slave labor. They didn’t have autonomy over their destinies or their bodies. Girls could not leave.”

“The boys?” I asked.

“Almost all of the boys followed on as had always been. Some boys who brought wealth or a male skill, like blacksmithing, could stay at The Grove. But they’d have to serve until they were much older to be offered a wife. Usually, the less desirable among the adolescents. And that all continues until today. The leader, Orion Blackburn, is Dr. Balckburn’s grandson. He is believed to have twenty wives and possibly eighty children.”

Holy wow! “Modesty is one of Orion Blackburn’s children?” I asked. Kudos to her for escaping such a setup.

“Exactly,” Finley said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you have a picture of Modesty?”

Finley tapped at his computer then turned the screen in my direction.

“She’s calling herself Destiny, now.”

“Noted,” Finley said.

I caught Prescott’s eye. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Lynx, we worked that case in Syria last December. The horror of women slaves who were offered as prizes to ISIS fighters. Is this going to be too much for you? Are you okay with working this case?”

Finley flicked a look of concern toward Prescott. He must have heard the exchange.

“Spyder wants me involved,” I said. Yeah, the enslavement of women was a real, contemporary global issue. It had been so hard to be in Syria and see what that looked like firsthand. It was the reason why Angel had gone black ops—he was willing to suffer and sacrifice, to be tortured and endangered to save these women.

Angel was a hero.

Anything I was experiencing from not having a divorce from him was so small and petty.

I needed to remember that.

If, as Prescott suggested, the papers were held up because Angel was off-grid…yeah, his work took precedence. Those women’s lives were much more important.

I felt some of the combativeness recede. The heat was removed from my pressure cooker thoughts.

But what in the world could The Grove,

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