Free SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 by Beverly Lewis

offered his medical assistance. “I’d be more than happy to help the department in any way,” he said.
    “Well, for starters, we’ll have the phone line tapped,” Officer Vyner informed us.
    Chelsea brightened a bit. “You mean, you can do that without my dad requesting it?”
    “I’ll be talking with your dad soon enough,” he said, sliding the clasp on his pen over his shirt pocket.
    We heard the sound of tires on the dirt road out front.
    “Daddy’s home!” Chelsea shouted and ran out to meet him. I was close on her heels, with Dad trailing a few inches behind.
    Mr. Davis was clearly surprised to see Officer Vyner and my dad hanging around his house. He eyed Chelsea nervously. “What’s going on here?” he grumbled.
    Officer Vyner spoke up. “I understand your wife’s missing?”
    Mr. Davis ignored him and kept walking toward the house.
    “Daddy!” Chelsea called. “Please talk to him.”
    Her father stood still and erect, not moving for a moment as he faced the screen door, perhaps contemplating a response. Then he opened the door and went inside.
    “Now what’ll we do?” I said, worried for Chelsea.
    She scuffed her foot against the dirt near one of the many flower beds her mom had tended through the years. “Daddy’s been like this ever since…” She stopped and pulled out her tissue. “What’s wrong with him?”
    Officer Vyner tried to explain. “Your father’s hurting, Chelsea. He may be in denial, but no matter what, you must give him your support…your love. He needs you now more than ever.”
    She dried her tears. “What exactly is the occult?” she asked. “Is it the same thing as a cult group?”
    Dad was quick to answer her questions. “The words do sound similar, but the occult is most often linked with astrology, psychic prediction, and sometimes magic or witchcraft. The word cult simply means a group of people whose leader persuades them to believe he deserves unquestioned loyalty and obedience. Some cult groups may employ occult practices, as well.”
    Dad’s gentle eyes studied Chelsea as she stared down at her mother’s flower bed, now hard and dry.
    “Thanks for coming, Doctor Hanson,” she said, turning to face Dad. “And for explaining things.”
    “We’ll be praying that your mother is found soon,” Dad told Chelsea as we headed for the car. “Please keep us informed. I know Merry will be in touch.”
    “Thanks again,” she said. “And don’t worry about me, Merry. I’ll be fine.”
    I waved to my friend. “I know you will.”
    Dad opened the car door for me and hurried to get in on the driver’s side after stowing my bike in the trunk. Nothing was said about hanging out with the wrong company—none of that. Dad was sweet. He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you’re all right, dumpling.”
    He started the car and drove down SummerHill Lane to our house.
    “Do you think they’ll find Mrs. Davis?” I asked.
    Dad glanced at me. “Chelsea and you did the best thing for Mrs. Davis by getting the authorities involved.” He explained that there was a special forces unit at the police department. “They have a number of highly trained dogs who can follow car-exhaust fumes and pick up many other kinds of scents.”
    “Wow, that’s incredible. So you think it’s possible Mrs. Davis might be coming home soon?”
    Dad shook his head, wearing a gloomy expression. “I didn’t say that. You have to realize that members of cult groups lose their ability to reason clearly. Their minds become prisoners, controlled by a leader who is often power crazed.”
    “Is that what you call brainwashing?” I asked, remembering the repeated sentences in the diary.
    “People adhering to mind-controlling practices—and, in this case, mystical formulas—often don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Their minds can be trapped in a short time frame.” He steered the car into our driveway.
    “Do you really think Chelsea’s mom