Free Land of Entrapment by Andi Marquette

like to have lots of tats signaling their allegiance. So I think Cody’s probably more neo-Nazi.”
    “Okay,” Melissa said thoughtfully, “skinheads tend to be neo-Nazi but not all neo-Nazis are skinheads.”
    “Bingo. I also think that Cody’s part of the recruiting arm of whatever group he’s in, which might be a local chapter of a larger one. Local chapters sometimes name themselves something other than the parent organization.”
    “How do they recruit?”
    “Lately, the Internet and, especially within the last few years, college campuses. They’ll flyer cars in parking lots there, but some are already students.
    They want educated, articulate people for the movement. Think guys like David Duke.”
    “Wait. You’re saying that they actually manage to get college kids in these groups?”
    “Remember your college days? College is really freaky for some. It’s a time for trying on new identities and new ideas. And if you’re in a vulnerable place at home or with your family or for whatever reasons, these guys make you feel welcome.”
    “Guys?”
    “Yeah. The movement is mostly male. When women join, it’s generally through a guy. It’s rare to find a woman who goes and signs up all on her own.”
    “Jesus, Kase,” Melissa said softly, staring at the photo of Cody on the monitor. “He recruited her.”
    “Yes. He did. He’s probably very good at finding weak spots and manipulating them. And Megan’s history...” I allowed my voice to trail off. I didn’t need to go there. Melissa knew what I was talking about. I cleared my throat instead. “I haven’t gone through all of her files yet,” I managed, changing the subject.
    “I have her e-mail password.” She didn’t look at me.I didn’t really want to know how Melissa had that information. I assumed it had something to do with Megan’s rehab years. Melissa probably had one of her IT friends figure it out.
    “Is it recent?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. Do you want to open it now?”
    She reached past me to the legal pad I’d been writing notes on. I handed her a pen and Melissa wrote down the log-in information.
    “Has she been e-mailing you too, or just calling since she left?” I looked at what Melissa had written and went to the AOL log-in site.
    “Just calling.” I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Melissa kept her hands in her lap, palms pressed against her thighs. She was wearing another power suit, this one olive green linen. The color looked good against her skin. I glanced away and quickly typed Megan’s log-in and password into the blanks. Her account opened.
    “When was the last time you checked it?” I asked, still not looking at Melissa.
    “Last week.”
    “Did you see anything that seemed out of the ordinary?”
    “No. She’s kept a lot of the e-mails from Cody but I haven’t read them.”
    That did make me look at her. “Why not?”
    She shook her head and sighed. “Here’s the thing.
    I got her password and log-in because I was worried that she might fall in with the wrong crowd after her last rehab. But I promised myself I wouldn’t use it unless I had a reason to. So I actually didn’t use it until she left.” She chose the euphemism carefully, pausing slightly before she said it. “I feel really guilty about it.”
    “Don’t,” I said gently. “I mean, you had a good reason to do it. She’s not where she should be and because of her history, well...” I shrugged and turned my attention back to the screen. There were five new e-mails. Three were from Amazon—updates about books she might want to read for her psychology classes. One was spam about paying off your mortgage that had made its way past AOL’s filters and the other was from one of her friends whose name I recognized from the photos. Allison. I clicked on that one. It was barely three sentences long. She was just checking in because she hadn’t heard from Megan in a while and wanted to know how things were going.
    “Do you know