“Oh, not one you law-and-order types like all that much, but let’s face it: If you’re being interrogated by a person in a position of authority for more than twelve hours—personally I think ten should be the limit—you’ll stop thinking straight. You’ll say anything just to end the questions. Hell, just to get some sleep.”

“So, Grief Release,” Angie said, “is brainwashing clientele?”

“In some cases. In others, they’re accumulating vast stores of private knowledge about their clients. Say you’re a married guy, wife and two kids, picket fence, but you’ve just admitted you go to gay bars twice a month and sample the wares. And then the counselor says, ‘Good. Excellent nudity. Let’s try something easier. I have to trust you, so you have to trust me. What’s your bank PIN code?’”

“Wait a second, Rich,” I said. “You’re saying this is all about getting financial information so they can, what, embezzle from their clients?”

“No,” he said. “It’s not that simple. They’re building dossiers on their clients which include complete physical, emotional, psychological, and financial information. They learn everything there is to know about a person.”

“And then?”

He smiled. “Then they own them, Patrick. Forever.”

“To what end?” Angie said.

“You name it. Let’s go back to our hypothetical client with the wife and kids and covert homosexuality. He moves from nudity to exhibition, which is basically admitting ugly truths in front of a group of other clients and staff. From there, he usually goes on a retreat to property they own in Nantucket. He’s been stripped bare, he’s a shell, and he hangs out for five days with all these other shells, and they talk, talk, talk—always ‘honestly,’ laying themselves bare over and over in an environment controlled and protected by Grief Release staff. These are usually pretty fragile, screwed-up people, and now they belong to a community of other fragile, screwed-up people who have as many skeletons in their closets as they do. Our hypothetical guy, he feels a great weight lifted. He feels cleansed. He’s not a bad person; he’s okay. He’s found a family. He’s reached Revelation. He came in there because he was feeling desolate. Now he doesn’t feel desolate anymore. Case closed. He can go back to his life. Right?”

“Wrong,” I said.

He nodded. “Exactly. He needs his new family now. He’s told he’s made progress, but he can slip anytime. There are other classes to take, other steps to follow, other levels to reach. And, oh, by the way, someone asks him, have you ever read Listening for the Message?”

“The bible of the Church of Truth and Revelation,” Angie said.