Diaz cleared his throat before he began. “I’m working with the Department of Homeland Security on a domestic terrorism investigation. There was an attack on FBI personnel by an underground militia known as the White Army. It’s a white nationalist group with religious ties. We believe they were organized by the leader of The Haven.”

Avery couldn’t hide her trepidation. This was worse than she’d thought. The cult leader wasn’t just preying on the innocent women and children under his wing. He was targeting law enforcement outside the commune. The FBI wouldn’t turn a blind eye on a terrorist attack. “What do you want from me?”

“We need information,” he said, leaning forward. “We know almost nothing about the cult or its practices. We’ve only recently learned of its existence.”

“Why do you think I can help you?”

“You’re the only former member we’ve been able to locate.”

“Who told you I was a member?”

“Weren’t you?”

Avery turned her attention to Richards. “Are you his boss?”

“I’m a liaison from the Portland office,” Richards said. “Investigators from out of state are required to coordinate with local law enforcement before they conduct interviews. He also thought you might feel more comfortable with a female agent present.”

Diaz didn’t deny the claim. His instincts were correct; Avery wouldn’t have let him inside her apartment if he’d come alone. She was wary of strangers, especially male strangers. Richards’s age and supervisory attitude helped. She had the air of an experienced matriarch who didn’t miss anything.

“How did you find me?” she asked him.

“I searched for adolescent wards of the state in this area. Your file mentioned a possible religious upbringing and unknown parentage. It’s unusual.”

“It’s also sealed.”

“I got a court order,” Diaz said.

Avery could connect the dots from there. He’d read her file and gone to Ruth for more information. Avery had changed her name after she’d reached adulthood, so he wouldn’t have been able to track her down without speaking to her “aunt” first. Ruth was the only one who could tell him about Avery’s strange origins. Ruth had trusted Diaz enough to share Avery’s most closely guarded secret.

Avery, however, did not trust him. She had a lot to lose by getting involved as a witness. She didn’t want to testify in court or become a target for a right-wing militia. And what relevant information could she offer at this point? She hadn’t been near the commune in twenty years. She didn’t even know its exact location.

“I was a child when I left,” she said. “My memories are...incomplete.”

Diaz’s gaze searched hers. “According to the sheriff’s report, you were thirteen. Old enough to survive in the woods on your own for several weeks. You must have walked a hundred miles, barefoot.”