loaded.
“John McAllister, who’d have thought it?” she murmured. It kind of made sense. Why else would he have agreed to marry her ten years ago, if not to establish himself as Preacher’s successor?
She brushed her fingers over the mouse pad to move the cursor to the documents folder. It took a moment to open up.
Magda frowned at the list of files. They were all names, none of them names she knew. She opened one at random; Miranda Tyson.
The file contained a head and shoulders shot of the same young girl as the photo in the shoebox. She was pretty, in a pale, serious kind of way, and wore a drab grey collar high around her neck. Miranda Tyson. Magda remembered her now. She’d been a lot like Joseph, a church teen who rebelled at every opportunity until her parents sent her away.
So why did John have a file on her?
Magda read down the page. The file listed her age as 27, which would be right. Condition: Drug Addict, insolent, it said.
Then there were a whole lot of words Magda couldn’t for the life of her understand.
Miranda has made great progress since undertaking the experimental program, the file said, right at the bottom of the page. Despite being one of the first subjects to undergo the treatment, and one of the most difficult, she no longer uses drugs of any kind. She is meek and obedient and praises the word of God. She has stayed on at the Centre as an assistant.
Magda shuddered. Great. No doubt another one of Preacher’s little pet outreac h projects, although it was odd he hadn’t based it in Hailstone.
She read more files. Brian Page, 42, had been cured of alcoholism and Sarah Michaels, 34, of a problem with anger. Amanda Wales had gone in for promiscuity. Magda looked closer at the picture. “Amanda?” she murmured. The same Amanda who had failed so spectacularly to cure her of being a bad girl?
Magda listened to the house for a moment; silence. She breathed a sigh of relief. All of the files she’d read so far said the people had stayed on as volunteers and assistants. Whatever this program was, it sounded like a one way ticket.
She opened up another file. Jonah Sand, 18. His condition was listed as immoral lifestyle choice. Magda felt ill, but she clenched her teeth and read on.
Jonah entered the program at the request of his parents, read the paragraph at the bottom of the page. He showed early promise under the ministry of the program’s foremost counsellor, John McAllister, but later showed signs of rebellion. A more intensive series of sessions was implemented, but Jonah could not be brought into corrective behaviour patterns. Counsellors were unable to prevent the suicide. Lawsuit pending.
Under that, the death was dated as happening just a week and a half ago.
Magda rubbed her head. The throbbing was back. Something here was really, really, off. John, a counsellor? And was Amanda a typical result of his counselling? How could she not know about this? Surely Preacher wouldn’t sanction something that pushed kids to suicide. Surely not.
Magda shut down the file and put her head in her hands. Well, this was something, but she didn’t know if it was enough. She wondered what exactly had driven Jonah Sand to suicide. It wasn’t hard to imagine. Her hands shook against her face.
The house was still. Magda reached for the vodka, but the bottle was in pieces in the sink. She swallowed a pill instead. She took the laptop over to her house computer and swapped the network cords from the internet Preacher didn’t know she had to the laptop. There was no problem getting the machine onto the web; it was all set up.
Magda pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and thought about what she was about to do. She typed in a few search terms. Sex toys. Boobs. Bums. Male on male. She wished she had more vodka to numb the feeling that this time she was going too far, but she didn’t. She saved a few choice pictures to John’s folders.
When she was happy she had enough pictures, she typed Jonah
“John McAllister, who’d have thought it?” she murmured. It kind of made sense. Why else would he have agreed to marry her ten years ago, if not to establish himself as Preacher’s successor?
She brushed her fingers over the mouse pad to move the cursor to the documents folder. It took a moment to open up.
Magda frowned at the list of files. They were all names, none of them names she knew. She opened one at random; Miranda Tyson.
The file contained a head and shoulders shot of the same young girl as the photo in the shoebox. She was pretty, in a pale, serious kind of way, and wore a drab grey collar high around her neck. Miranda Tyson. Magda remembered her now. She’d been a lot like Joseph, a church teen who rebelled at every opportunity until her parents sent her away.
So why did John have a file on her?
Magda read down the page. The file listed her age as 27, which would be right. Condition: Drug Addict, insolent, it said.
Then there were a whole lot of words Magda couldn’t for the life of her understand.
Miranda has made great progress since undertaking the experimental program, the file said, right at the bottom of the page. Despite being one of the first subjects to undergo the treatment, and one of the most difficult, she no longer uses drugs of any kind. She is meek and obedient and praises the word of God. She has stayed on at the Centre as an assistant.
Magda shuddered. Great. No doubt another one of Preacher’s little pet outreac h projects, although it was odd he hadn’t based it in Hailstone.
She read more files. Brian Page, 42, had been cured of alcoholism and Sarah Michaels, 34, of a problem with anger. Amanda Wales had gone in for promiscuity. Magda looked closer at the picture. “Amanda?” she murmured. The same Amanda who had failed so spectacularly to cure her of being a bad girl?
Magda listened to the house for a moment; silence. She breathed a sigh of relief. All of the files she’d read so far said the people had stayed on as volunteers and assistants. Whatever this program was, it sounded like a one way ticket.
She opened up another file. Jonah Sand, 18. His condition was listed as immoral lifestyle choice. Magda felt ill, but she clenched her teeth and read on.
Jonah entered the program at the request of his parents, read the paragraph at the bottom of the page. He showed early promise under the ministry of the program’s foremost counsellor, John McAllister, but later showed signs of rebellion. A more intensive series of sessions was implemented, but Jonah could not be brought into corrective behaviour patterns. Counsellors were unable to prevent the suicide. Lawsuit pending.
Under that, the death was dated as happening just a week and a half ago.
Magda rubbed her head. The throbbing was back. Something here was really, really, off. John, a counsellor? And was Amanda a typical result of his counselling? How could she not know about this? Surely Preacher wouldn’t sanction something that pushed kids to suicide. Surely not.
Magda shut down the file and put her head in her hands. Well, this was something, but she didn’t know if it was enough. She wondered what exactly had driven Jonah Sand to suicide. It wasn’t hard to imagine. Her hands shook against her face.
The house was still. Magda reached for the vodka, but the bottle was in pieces in the sink. She swallowed a pill instead. She took the laptop over to her house computer and swapped the network cords from the internet Preacher didn’t know she had to the laptop. There was no problem getting the machine onto the web; it was all set up.
Magda pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes and thought about what she was about to do. She typed in a few search terms. Sex toys. Boobs. Bums. Male on male. She wished she had more vodka to numb the feeling that this time she was going too far, but she didn’t. She saved a few choice pictures to John’s folders.
When she was happy she had enough pictures, she typed Jonah
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