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“Yes sir,” she said, an air of apology on her lips. King couldn’t tell exactly what she felt sorry about but it was written all over her face. This was hard. Facing him again was complicated and she looked bowled over by the shame.
Arnoldo gestured for them to sit on the couch and took a seat in a chair across from them. "I don’t remember you.” He points a crooked finger at King.
“I’m a friend. I’m trying to help if I can.”
He nodded as though the answer satisfies him and turned his attention back to Bailey. “I didn’t expect to ever see you again. You were whisked away pretty quickly after your father was charged. What brings you back here?”
Bailey took a deep breath before speaking. "I’ve been back. Cinderhill was my home and staying away wasn’t an option,” she said. " And... it’s different now. It's not how it was when my father was in charge. The people there are just trying to live their lives and raise their families. There’s freewill and peace."
Arnoldo raised an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe," he groaned. "You know what your father did to those people, Bailey. You know the kind of things he was capable of. And now you're telling me that they've all moved on and healed?”
"No, no, that's not it," Bailey replied quickly. "A lot of the people living there now are new. They never met my father. Any residents from before have openly rejected everything my father stood for. They were his victims, not his accomplices.”
Arnoldo shook his head, unconvinced. “Cults don’t change. Not without a lot of real intervention. They can bury it, hide it. But that thread always runs through them. Your mother certainly wasn’t someone who would have been able to just stop believing. If she’s still in Cinderhill then some of your father is there too.”
“She’s still there,” King admitted, reluctantly agreeing with Arnoldo. He’d been worried about the same things. That Cinderhill might not be salvageable. That the cost would be too high and the loss too great.
“I have faith in the people of Cinderhill now. It's just... there are other men out there. Men who were part of the cult when my father was the leader. Do you remember James? He’s been keeping things together out there. They fled into the woods when the police came, and they've been surviving out there ever since. Out of respect for my mother's wishes, and at my behest, they stayed away from Cinderhill, convinced when the time was right, they’d be welcomed back in. We gave them food and supplies when we could, just to keep them at bay. But now my mother is on the verge of dying and they're threatening to come back and take over again. They’ve been communicating with my father, who has bolstered the idea of returning, as if my mother’s illness and pending death is some kind of sign that the time is right."
Arnoldo leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked, clearly frustrated with Bailey’s choices over the years. “You were out of there. Free. I busted my ass to find people who could help you without a single paper trail. You’re the one who decided to come back.”
Bailey didn’t drop her head in shame. Instead she doubled down. "I shouldn’t have had to run away from my home. My father was the problem. His ideology and cruel punishments were the issue. I deserve to live where I want, free of fear. You know those men, Arnoldo. You know their names and their faces. We need your help to track them down and stop them before they can do any harm."
Arnoldo shook his head. "I'm sorry, Bailey, but I can't help you," he apologized. "I've been put out to pasture and I’m retired now. I don't have any jurisdiction. I can't go around chasing after every criminal who might be a threat to someone. And even if I could, what would I do? If things are how you say, then Cinderhill is compliant with their home schooling, free from any abuse or crimes. There's no reason for the police or child services to go in there now. Have the men you’re talking about done anything illegal recently? Anything you can prove?”
“No,” Bailey reported, now looking defeated. “They haven’t.”
“We think they sabotaged the dam. But there is no proof of that.” King sighed and leaned back against the couch, frustration etched into his features. "It's not right," he groaned. "Protection shouldn’t only come into play when something bad has already happened. We need to prevent this from happening, Arnoldo. We can't just sit around and wait for them to make a move."
Arnoldo folded his arms across his chest, his face clouded with thought. "I understand what you're saying, King," he replied slowly. "That was always the hardest part of my job to face. There were plenty of victims failed by the system. But we can’t preemptively go around arresting people we think might do something bad.”
Bailey shifted nervously in her chair as Arnoldo continued.
“And I do feel for you, Bailey. But you have to understand, there's only so much I can do. I'm not a cop anymore. The force I worked on has changed dramatically. They pushed me out and I didn’t leave on good terms. They were making changes I couldn’t bring myself to agree with. I took a lot of heat for what happened in Cinderhill.”
“Heat?” she asked, looking perplexed. “You were a hero.”
“That’s not how everyone saw it. I invested a lot of time and resources on a community up in the woods that didn’t matter to anyone back in town. Putting your father away was great, but they weren’t interested in tracking down and punishing all those other men. Not to mention those men had ties to people on the force. Brothers-in-law. High school friends. It was messy. Getting you out was my first priority. Then putting your father away. Outside of that, no one cared to do anything for the people of Cinderhill. The overall feeling was, if you want protection, live a more normal life closer to town. They saw your isolation as a trade-off. You were giving up your right to protection for your right to autonomy.”
“I didn’t know any of that.” Bailey looked down at her lap, her face a mask of disappointment. “You were so determined when I finally told you what was going on," she said softly.
Arnoldo sighed heavily, his face softening. "Politics are involved everywhere and, unfortunately, that is worse now than ever. Under the current chief and with those men having connections to people on the force, you’ll have a hard time getting help. Especially if you can’t prove anything has happened yet. I'm sorry, Bailey. I really am. I wish there was something I could do to help you. But I don't have the power I used to have. All I can do is offer you some advice. And my advice to you is the same as it was back then, leave. If these men are hellbent on taking back Cinderhill, let them. Do you remember what I told you that last day we spoke?"
“You said no plot of land was worth dying over. That I should leave and never look back.” Bailey nodded slowly; her eyes downcast.
King couldn’t bear it; he looked up sharply, a fire in his eyes. "They don’t deserve to win this. To run good people off and use their twisted beliefs and desire for power to get what they want. I can’t sit by—"
"Then do something," Arnoldo said with a shrug. "You keep fighting if you want to. The advice I’m giving is to protect you, I certainly agree they don’t deserve to be there. If I were a younger man, in better health I would—"
"What?" King asked. "What would your play be if things were different for you?”
“The best defense is a good offense,” Arnoldo said, sitting up a little straighter. “The police can’t do anything until there is a documented crime. But you aren’t a police officer.”
King nodded slowly, his face still tense, but he felt a seed of hope growing in him. “Thank you,” King said, jutting his hand out to shake as he made his way back toward the door.
Bailey stood up, lagging a bit behind as she looked around the room again. "Thank you, Arnoldo," she said softly. "Thank you for all the help you gave me. You made it so I could get stronger and come back to do the right thing by the people at Cinderhill.” She paused. “Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”
