The Exodus Strategy

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The Exodus Strategy Page 12

by Barbara Winkes


  “Of course not!” She could see that Kerry had made the connection, her lack of encouragement for Lee’s plans to join Exodus, her reaction when Kerry had invited her to dinner without asking. “It’s not going to happen again,” she stressed. “I made it clear to her that I’m not interested. Well,” Vivien shrugged. “I guess she didn’t take it too hard since she still stayed for dinner.”

  “It’s been a few tough days,” Kerry acknowledged. “Let me drive you, and maybe I could do some volunteer work. The coffee’s not half bad at your place either.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Right now? You told Dana you’d be there in half an hour.”

  “I mean—later. In a few months. What if we start the treatment, and we’ll see how it goes? Maybe…” The possibility scared Vivien, and she was even more afraid that saying it out loud might jinx their chances, but carrying around the thought would be even worse. “Maybe it won’t work. We don’t know yet. We can’t make everything depend on the outcome. As for the Hate Crimes unit, I know it’s the kind of work you want to do, but what if you could do it in California? It’s your name on that paper. Maybe it should be your name on the project as well.”

  “How about we take it one day at a time, see how next week goes?” Kerry asked, putting on her own coat.

  “Sounds good to me,” Vivien said.

  * * * *

  Lee hadn’t been called in to the Sunday meeting. Kerry was grateful about it. As much as she believed she had nothing to worry about, it might have been a bit awkward.

  “Kerry, thanks for coming, I appreciate it,” Dana said. “Actually, a law enforcement perspective is extremely relevant for us, not just because Miller’s antics move us closer into the realm of illegal. I use this term loosely, because according to his administration being a woman puts you on the illegal side, almost regardless of what you do. Yep, ladies, you’re all presumed pregnant until proven otherwise. However, that is, for once, not why I called you here.”

  “Why did the judge change his mind?” Kerry asked. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. It just strikes me as odd.”

  “Frankly…I don’t know.” Dana shrugged. “I assume somebody realized the case wasn’t strong enough, not this time. Which makes it even more important to keep your cool out there, whatever happens. Speaking of which—who of you is going to sign up for Exodus? No worries. I’m not going to fire you. Mr. and Mrs. Greene expand, well, so do we.” After a moment of hesitation, Julia raised her hand.

  “I just think that it will be easier to raise money and launch new projects if we don’t have to worry about people wanting to trap us every step of the way.”

  “I understand.” Dana nodded. “I’ll confirm some things with the Greenes, they are one of our biggest donors after all. What I understand though is that they aren’t going to tear everything down here. I’m all with the concept of starting society over in a controllable way, but some of us have to stay, hire new people. Lee already told me she’ll go. Kerry and Vivien, I assume the same goes for you?”

  “We haven’t decided yet,” Vivien said. “There’s a lot of work left to be done here.”

  Like paying the young man whose address Ruth had provided her with, a visit. For the moment, Kerry was happy to watch Vivien among her peers. It was easy to tell it did her some good—not that she’d been away so long from this place, but the uncertainty had gotten to her. Of course, there were lots of things they didn’t know for certain yet. She shifted her mind to the upcoming doctor’s appointment, imagining the moment of truth and the months that would follow. Leading up to another milestone—the most amazing one in their lives.

  There was some bureaucracy to circumvent as usual, but while they didn’t love paperwork, they were good at it. Every T would be crossed. It would be best to get started as soon as possible, in case Miller got the idea that IVF treatments should be denied to lesbian couples.

  “I’d rather you make your decision soon,” Dana told her. “Since it’s your name on the paper, Kerry, I believe Mrs. Greene has already issued an invitation, and Vivien, you could be heading things over there. We need to think of logistics as well.”

  This was a new perspective Kerry hadn’t even considered yet. If Dana was offering more responsibility to Vivien, a job where she would spend a lot of time coordinating rather than having to face people’s ignorance upfront. It was worth considering.

  Ivy who hadn’t spoken until now, shook her head.

  “I’m not sure I can see this working. Sure, California law would be a lot friendlier to us and our work, but they’re selling it like some big utopia, like we can literally save the world. What about women hiding from their families, who get forcibly returned to them with no regard for their safety? I’m not saying it’s the police’s fault, not always, in any case, but where do we draw the line? Will Exodus be some great kind of shelter, or do we have to back down and hope enough people will tweet so someone gets at least a slap on the wrist?”

  Kerry thought of Hilary’s passionate declaration that they’d leave no one behind. The application was translated into several languages, but there came difficult ramifications with such a blanket offer.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I know we’re discussing all of this in theory.”

  “Well, how about when it’s not theory? Can we give a safe place to a woman who’s under the acute threat of bodily harm, being raped—” Kerry hadn’t missed Vivien flinch. “—or murdered by her own people?” Ivy continued. “It’s not going to change my mind one way or another, I just want to know what I’m in for, and what’s possible. I’ve already been arrested for trying to help doctors help their patients. I think we are all on the radar, and everyone going to join Exodus, is.”

  “We have to stay within the law,” Vivien argued. “There’s a multi-billion-dollar company involved in this. Being a donor is one thing, but Exodus is the Greene’s—and Kerry’s—baby. Like Julia says, this offers a lot more possibilities than we could ever think about. We could bring money to our allies in other countries, so in return they can support moderate politicians, further education and information.”

  “You aren’t answering my question,” Ivy said. “What are we going to tell that woman?”

  Kerry realized that all of a sudden, all eyes were on her. This wasn’t really a dilemma, though, not even considering her profession. She thought that in this case she was indeed entitled to speak for Hilary too.

  “We’re going to take her in,” she said. “There’s no question.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Exodus is not just a project, it’s a mindset,” Morten Harris said. “A crazy, dangerous mindset that implies you can just ram your own way of living down everyone else’s throat, right?” He made a dramatic pause, maybe out of breath from the constant ranting. “Does anyone else find it highly ironic that they used a term with clear religious connotations when all they do is mock religion? I don’t think anyone has seen a Greene in church since their pompous wedding. Makes you wonder how the waiters were tipped, with all their talk about minimum wage. If they offer that to all their runaways, they might be running out of money soon, before Marc Greene can make his threat come true and do away with the traditional idea of family.”

  Marc shook his head with an amused smile when Hilary turned off the radio. “What’s this, keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer?”

  Hilary laughed. “I don’t want to be anywhere close to him,” she said with an exaggerated shudder. “You know what the good thing is? It’s not only his crowd that will be energized by those delusional rants. Ours will be too.”

  They had retreated to the den with a glass of wine, flames flickering in the fireplace. Frances was on the computer with Kaylee, regardless of the fact that she would see her in school tomorrow. They often joked about how grateful they were for free video chat—the communication needs of a teenager would otherwise cut deep into the budget, no matter how high it actually was. Hila
ry remembered her own mother sigh with resignation, back in the days, when she had talked for hours with one of her friends. Even the times she’d been back home from college, she’d always call Kerry. The two of them had hashed out ways of improving the world over endless phone conversations, until either of them had been called to the table for the third time or so. Frances had adopted similar habits.

  “I like the way you think,” Marc said. “What I don’t like is that a lot of BS is going to get to Governor King between our call and the meeting.”

  “From people like Harris? Those are the same who called her a doll and a slut respectively. I think she’ll be okay. If she was worried, she would have set a meeting right away.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Those were a lot of personal questions today,” Hilary said softly, meaning to put the offer on the table, no strings attached.

  “They’ll keep coming. People are wondering if we are doing this for personal reasons, as if that somehow makes the cause less important.”

  Hilary felt the chill creep up on her, even here in the warm, cozy room in her home, with the man she loved. She drank a sip of wine so hastily she almost choked on it.

  “Yeah. I think we knew that would happen, and we are prepared. Right?”

  She and Marc shared the same beliefs, and knew each other’s opinions on the issues that mattered, inside out. He knew about the abortion. What Marc didn’t know was that the, albeit difficult, decision and subsequent result hadn’t hurt her nearly as much as the events leading up to it. The importance of the cause, fighting for choice, for women’s lives, remained. Marc was right.

  “We are,” he agreed. “It’s an irony though that we’ll have to explain this over and over again, that it’s all right to take this company and its profits and try to make many people’s lives better—even if it’s not exactly Grandpa Greene’s vision of a successful business.”

  “Like business, like family.”

  “Oh yes. Our Grandma claimed he never hit anybody which might or might not be true, but you could tell he wasn’t exactly a kind-hearted person. I wait for Lemon to appear on Harris’ show and say how we are destroying Adam’s legacy, and speaking ill of the dead, but damn it, no one should live in fear every single day of their lives.” He put his glass on the coffee table with an audible sound, the wine sloshing inside. “It makes me sick to hear people like Harris and Miller mouthing off about what they think is a traditional family. What they mean is not a place for equal partners, but some concept that fosters domestic violence. Everyone has to stay silent about what’s going on inside. He used to mock her all the time, you know. Her appearance, her cooking, her housekeeping. As kids, when we went there, we were not supposed to speak up until asked. Well, my sister and I always hoped he wouldn’t talk to us, because we were terrified to be on the other end of one of his cruel jokes.”

  Hilary leaned closer silently. She was grateful for whatever circumstances had made it possible for Marc to understand the wrongdoings of a man from another generation, instead of copying them. Marc’s parents, like Hilary’s, had been supportive and open-minded, and more importantly, they had encouraged their children to always see the bigger picture, expose the smokescreens of patriarchy. Like business, like family.

  “I wish I’d confronted him more,” Marc said with audible regret. “It’s not just a matter of generation. There have been decent people at all times, there is no excuse. By letting him be, we let him know his attitude was all right, or at least, that we were too scared to do anything about it.”

  “You do now,” Hilary reminded him. “Confront him—and not just him. We are breaking out.”

  “We really are, aren’t we?” Marc picked up his glass again, and they clinked both of theirs together. “To Grandpa Greene,” he said. “For everything I’ve learned from you.”

  Hilary smiled, but a hint of regret remained. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt the same about what might have been a lesson or plain bad luck in her own life, but she wouldn’t dwell on it in the middle of a revolution.

  * * * *

  Kerry sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to center herself. In and out, quickly, make her point and leave. Jay Fuller had received a warning that would probably make him laugh rather than stop writing disgusting emails. He would receive another one.

  She emerged from her car, slammed the door shut, and made her way to the Fuller’s front door.

  Of course, they would have someone answer the door for them. Kerry had expected no less. Somehow, Donna who had the same job at the Greenes’ mansion, never looked her up and down with this much contempt, even before she’d identified herself.

  “Detective Rivers, Major Crimes. I’d like to talk to Jay, please.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help—”

  “What seems to be the problem?” The woman who had asked the question was not much older than Kerry, but had made attempts to look much younger, all of them without a doubt pricey. Her expression matched that of the housekeeper. Kerry believed everyone should do with their bodies what they saw fit. She also believed that every parent should do their damnedest best to not raise a rape apologist.

  “Mrs. Fuller, is Jay here?”

  The woman frowned. “The police? Someone already checked on that. There was some misunderstanding.”

  “Don’t worry. I have a couple of follow up questions, so that we can close the case.”

  “Close the case? What case?”

  “Like I said, I won’t be long.” Kerry walked inside past a stunned Mrs. Fuller and her housekeeper. “Where can I find him?”

  “Wait a minute. You can’t just walk in here and—Jay? Can you come here for a moment?” Her voice had climbed a couple of notches on the last words. “Jay!”

  “I’m here, Mom,” came the irritated voice from the gallery. “What’s going on?”

  For a moment, when his gaze met Kerry’s, shock might have been best to describe both of their reactions. He was so young, but then again, she’d seen younger and more evil than that. You could blame upbringing only for so long. At some point, personal responsibility had to kick in.

  “I already talked to the cops,” he said, as if it was obvious that she was one. “My lawyer says I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  “Can we talk somewhere in private, Jay?” Kerry asked, ignoring his attitude.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

  “I did, and your lawyer might be right about that.” He acknowledged her words with a condescending scowl. “However, this is part of a bigger investigation. You might have seen or heard something at the rally.” Kerry walked up the stairs under the suspicious gazes of the Fullers and their housekeeper.

  “I don’t know anything,” Jay said. He backed up a step, obviously uncomfortable when he realized he had to look up to Kerry. Not just because of the heels. She made herself remember every single detail, the gruesome image, the message that was just as bad, the dangers Vivien faced because of people like him. She would have loved to slam him against the wall for good measure, but that would turn out to be a little difficult given the spectators. They couldn’t hear what she said though.

  “Okay,” she said, the teenager’s reaction predictable.

  “Okay? You come here all the way and you cave the moment I mention my lawyer?” He laughed. “How lame.”

  “Like the email you sent to Vivien Collins? That lame?”

  “Her email address is available online. I was only stating my opinion, and I have a right to do so. Bitch is one of those ugly feminists who think it’s okay to kill babies.”

  Kerry was already seeing red.

  “Fine print, officer. I didn’t say I was going to rape her, and I don’t intend to. Who would want to have sex with that anyway?”

  Deep breath. Kerry thought it would serve him right if she expressed her “opinion” by puking on his shoes. “It’s detective. You might want to be more careful with what you say to people, and what kind of emails y
ou send them.”

  Jay Fuller didn’t waver a bit in his cocky demeanor. “I told you, I was well within my rights. If you keep harassing me, it’ll take one call to my lawyer, and he’ll get you fired.”

  “For what? I was just stating my opinion,” she said, and leaning closer. “Don’t you ever bother her again. I’ll find you, and you’ll regret it. I promise.”

  Kerry didn’t wait for his reaction, turned around, and walked back down the stairs. To Mrs. Fuller, she said, “Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

  She sat at her desk fifteen minutes later, wondering if she had actually achieved anything. Fuller would be crying to his lawyer and his friends on Facebook, and that talk might or might not reach the department. It wasn’t the smartest thing to go and threaten Fuller, but it had felt good. Which was the point, wasn’t it? This wasn’t about her or to make her feel better. Vivien had been the target of that email, not her.

  The private and the political. It was one and the same insofar as they needed a better system, a way to keep people like Fuller in check, to teach him better, to teach his parents better.

  “Detective Rivers?” Kerry jumped a little. She hadn’t heard the Lieutenant come in. Fairbanks looked angry. She couldn’t have heard already?

  “The captain told me I could use his office. Come with me, please.”

  “Okay.” Kerry felt slightly uncomfortable following the tall, blonde woman into Jepsen’s office. That was exactly where the weak links of the system came to light. Maybe Fuller had simply stated his ignorant and misguided opinion, but the line from threatening someone with bodily harm because of their gender and beliefs to actually committing violence was too thin for anyone’s comfort. Hate Crimes. That’s what they needed this unit for, to have a theoretical framework, a new paradigm. Too few people understood crimes against women rarely came from an isolated viewpoint.

  “I tried to get hold of Detective Gonzales, but I understand he’s out on a case at the moment. You better sit down first,” Fairbanks warned.

 

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