Chapter 6
Rebecca Crane was alive.
That mattered first.
Thin.
Angry.
Exhausted.
But alive.
When I entered the north lodge, she backed away from me.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
She looked at my signet ring.
Then laughed once.
“You finally came.”
That hurt.
“I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
No sarcasm.
Just fact.
Walter had told her I approved everything.
The reduced support.
The separation.
The forced choices.
The threats.
He said I believed families receiving Cross money owed cooperation.
Rebecca hated me.
Fair.
Based on the version she was given.
I sat several feet away.
“Where are your children?”
Her face broke.
“You tell me.”
I told her I did not know.
She stared.
Then realized.
Walter had lied to both of us.
Rebecca had been allowed controlled phone calls with Molly for three months.
Then none.
Elliot for six months.
Then none.
Every time she refused a request, contact decreased.
Names.
Information.
Old contacts.
She eventually stopped cooperating completely.
Walter moved her to the north lodge “for her safety.”
No guards in the room.
But one car.
No keys.
No money of her own.
No access to her children.
A beautiful prison.
I asked:
“What did he want most?”
She answered immediately.
“Widows.”
I frowned.
“He wanted to know which widows still talked to each other.”
Why?
Because Walter had built an entire private patronage network around family support.
He reduced payments first.
Then offered restoration in exchange for loyalty.
Some women accepted because children needed food or medicine.
Others refused.
Those were labeled difficult.
Parasites.
Ungrateful.
Disloyal.
Their children became pressure points.
Not always removed.
Sometimes threatened with school transfers.
Housing changes.
Lost childcare.
Different versions of the same choice.
Molly and Elliot were simply the worst case Rebecca knew.
I asked:
“How many families?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“More than twenty.”
My organization had a hidden economy inside it.
Not money stolen for luxury.
Money withheld to manufacture obedience.
Walter had been turning aid into a leash.
Then Rebecca asked:
“Where’s Molly?”
I had no answer.
May you like
Her expression collapsed.
That became my only priority.
