Blood Sins by Kay Hooper

was told--laughed and ran around the very nicely designed playground off to the right of the main square, pausing in their play only long enough to run up, when summoned by Ruth, to be introduced en masse to Tessa.
    "Children, say hello to Mrs. Gray. She's visiting us today."
    "Good afternoon, Mrs. Gray. Welcome." It was a chorus, bright and cheerful, accompanied by big smiles.
    Tessa wasn't all that familiar with children, but this bunch struck her as exceptionally polite. And rather eerily similar in that they were all impeccably dressed--especially for playtime--without so much as a smudge of dirt or visible wrinkle in their neat white shirts, lightweight blue jackets, dark pants (the boys), and dark skirts (the girls).
    "Hi," Tessa responded, wondering how many of these kids Sarah had known, if there were any she had been close to. By all accounts, she had taken a special interest in the children. "No school today?"
    "Our children are home-schooled," Ruth reminded her.
    "And it's our playground time," a dark, solemn-eyed boy told Tessa. "Not as cold as yesterday, so we can be outside longer."
    "I see."
    Ruth shooed them away before Tessa really had time to pick out any more individual faces; she wasn't even certain whose small hand touched hers briefly before the group ran back to their playground.
    "They're all fine children," Ruth said to her.
    "I'm sure they are." What else could she say?
    "Perhaps you can visit with them longer another time. I didn't want you to be overwhelmed, Tessa. So many faces, so many names. I do want you to meet some of our members, even though we have plenty of time for you to get to know everybody."
    "Yes. Yes, of course."
    Ruth continued the tour, pointing out this or that as they walked slowly around the Square.
    As scrubbed and neat as the children, all the buildings were beautifully maintained, as though they had been freshly painted only this morning.
    Especially the big, gleaming white three-story church itself, which was very churchlike, with rows of stained-glass windows (though generic abstract patterns, with no biblical scenes Tessa could identify) and a tall steeple with a simple cross atop a bell tower.
    She could see the bells gleaming even from ground level.
    The church was surrounded, like all the houses in the little neighborhood, with a neat lawn. Wide steps led from the front walkway that was pretty and cobbled up to the gleaming wooden doors that were wide and welcoming.
    But there was something just a little bit off in all the Norman Rockwell Americana perfection, and it wouldn't take a psychic, Tessa decided, to pick up on it. There was an eerie sameness to the faces, the smiles, the simple clothing, even the gestures. From the children to the adults, they all looked . . . almost indistinguishable.
    Interchangeable.
    I wonder if the missing people were just replaced by fresh ones, new recruits. And nobody noticed. Or cared.
    That was a horrifying thought and one Tessa shoved grimly from her mind as Ruth continued to introduce her around.
    "Welcome, Mrs. Gray. We're happy to have you here."
    "Thank you." Tessa shook hands with a couple who looked a lot like the previous six couples she had met since her arrival: somewhere in their thirties, a faint scent of soap clinging to them, a kind of bedrock serenity in their smiles--and an odd, shiny flatness in their eyes.
    Stepford. I'm in Stepford.
    "Everyone would love to meet you on this visit, of course, but we know that would be too much," Ruth told her as she led the way, finally, back toward the church. "Plus, many of our members work in town and haven't gotten home yet today."
    The church, peaceful and perfect in appearance, was now marred slightly by a dirty Jeep parked nearby, the logo on its side the seal of the Grace Police Department.
    Cops. Cops she could trust?
    Or cops who would prove to be one more layer of deceptive normality in this place?
    "I had no idea the Compound was so large," Tessa lied, ignoring the Jeep.