“Good.” She looked embarrassed. “Because he’s coming in. At 10.”
I nodded. “Great. Thanks for the extra-long notice.” I had a donut in my hand, which was my breakfast that morning, and a newspaper that I was planning on reading. “Well, as you know, since you keep my schedule, I have hearings all this afternoon. I also have motions to write and I need to try to get a petition together for the Family Court for the girls’ adoption. I really wish you could have warned me that this guy was coming in.”
“Well, he wanted to talk to you. He has some information for you that might be helpful.”
“Okay. Well, send him on in when he gets her.”
“I will.”
ABOUT A HALF HOUR, Agent Springer showed up. He was in his early forties, and was taller than me – he stood about 6’2”, and his face was slightly craggy and very masculine. His temples were greying slightly, but he had a full head of hair that was jet black and slightly wavy. His eyes were blue and steely, his cheeks were broad and his lips were puffy. He was dressed in blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt that showed that he had kept himself in pretty good shape over the years.
I blinked my eyes and lost my breath. There was something about this man that was incredibly sexy. Down girl. I hadn’t been attracted to a man in so long, I couldn’t even remember the last time I was. But this guy – the way that he looked, his posture, and the fact that he looked like he worked out every day of his life – he made my stomach do flip-flops.
I stood up to greet him. “Agent Springer,” I said, hoping that I wasn’t coming off as some love-struck school-girl, “you wanted to see me.”
“Yes,” he said. His voice was deep and he had an Australian accent. I think that I died right there, because I happen to love Australian accents. “I think that I might have some information that would be helpful to you.” He raised his eyebrows, and I was wondering what he was looking for.
I shook my head, realizing how rude I was being. “I’m terribly sorry, you’re just standing there, and I haven’t asked you to take a seat. But please do.”
He smiled, his lips going slightly crooked, and he raised his eyebrows again. “Thanks, Ms. Ross,” he said. “I’m an old-fashioned guy, and I never presume a lady wants me to sit down.”
I chuckled. “Old-fashioned. I like that. Anyhow, what do you have for me?”
He sat back in his chair, his left leg crossing over his right knee. His casual stance was something else that was throwing me. He just seemed so laid-back, which was something that I couldn’t say about myself. I was always so Type-A, which was probably the reason, in the end, for my on-going bouts with depression – I was always at war with myself. I beat myself up on a regular basis, and I usually found that I fell short of where I wanted to be.
“You’re working the Heather Morrison case, I know. I’ve seen that case in the paper a lot.”
“I am.”
“Well, then, you’re going to want to know what I’ve been working on.” He leaned forward, and I could smell the faint scent of a woodsy cologne. I bit my lower lip and put my hand on my leg, feeling that I actually wanted to put my hand on his leg instead.
Just then, the phone was ringing. Pearl had put it through, even though I told her to hold my calls, so I glared at her through my window. She turned and looked at me and mouthed the words you need to take this.
“I’m so sorry, Agent Springer,” I said. “But I have to take this. I won’t be long.”
“Please, call me Axel,” he said.
I smiled. I happened to love the name Axel, I thought it was the coolest name ever, and it really suited him. “Hello,” I said, “This is Harper Ross.”
“Harper, this is your neighbor Ally.”
“Oh, hey Ally. How are things?”
“Not good.” She paused. “I didn’t want to bother you, but…”
“But what?” There was alarm that started to rise in my gut, and it threatened overtake me.
“I don’t want you to get too alarmed, but, well, there was a fire.”
I blinked. “A fire?”
“Yes. Well, yes. A fire. Your kitchen caught fire. I called the fire department right away, and it didn’t seem to spread that far. But I think that your kitchen is gone.”
A fire. Did I leave anything on? Like the stove or oven? I racked my brain. “Thanks for calling me.”
I hung up the phone. “Um, Agent Springer,” I began.
“Axel.” He smiled. “Do you have to go?”
“I do. I’m so sorry.” I looked at my watch. I felt that I needed to go home and see about my kitchen, because, otherwise, I would obsess about the kitchen all day. I couldn’t afford to do that, because, well, I had court appearances that entire day and I needed to have my head in the game. “I do appreciate you coming in, though. I’m so sorry to cut this short. Can we meet another time?”
He raised his left eyebrow. “How about we meet over some tacos and tequila? It’s Tuesday, after all. I do have a lot to discuss with you that you probably will be interested in.”
I swallowed hard. “Tacos, yes, tequila…” I shook my head and brought out my chip.
He smiled again and nodded his head. “I got you, mate. Tacos and iced tea, then.”
“Tacos and iced tea. Manny’s on the Boulevard?”
He looked at the clock, which was behind my head. “Okay, I’ll see you at…7?”
“7.” I nodded my head. “I’ll call my nanny, Sophia. She’ll have to pick up my girls.”
“You got kids? How many?”
“It’s a long story, but I have two at home.” I smiled, realizing that I enjoyed saying that I had two girls. “You have any kids?”
“Yeah. My son just started college.” He dipped his head slightly and grinned. “I feel so old saying that, but I just turned 40. I was a young pup when Boyd was born.” He cracked his knuckles, which made me inwardly smile, because that was the kind of thing that I always did whenever I was nervous. “Well, anyhow, you better, uh, get to your, uh…”
“Fire.” I was remarkably sanguine about it. I guessed it was because I felt like I had seen it all, which I probably had over my life. “My kitchen apparently caught fire while I was sitting here in this office, which is strange, to say the very least. Plus, my car was bashed in. Maybe you can look into all that.” I wondered if I was batting my eyelashes. I felt awkward, for the first time in a long time.
He furled his eyebrows. “Your car was bashed in. A hit and run? It was on the street, I assume.”
“No, it was in my driveway. I have this psychotic former client who hates me. I’m sure that he was the one who got somebody to bash in my car. To intimidate me.”
“Huh. You certainly do seem calm about all this.”
“How am I supposed to seem?” I smiled. “Axel, if you knew the things that I’ve seen. The clients I’ve defended. If there was some way for me to make my mortgage, and send my two girls to college, that didn’t involve doing this, I would get out tomorrow.”
I didn’t really feel that way. I did feel that this was a calling for me. A passion. But I didn’t want the cop to know that. After all, he was, by definition, on the opposing side. It wouldn’t do for this handsome man to know that I secretly loved my job. Aside from that crisis that happened after Gina Caldwell, which still made me shudder and kept me awake nights, I did feel that my cases made me feel alive. Especially Heather’s case.
“I know what you mean. I’ve probably seen all the same things. I’m on the other side, though, of you.”
“Yes. Well, I have to-“
“I know. I’ll see you at 7.”
Axel left, and I looked around for my purse and keys. “Pearl,” I said, “I have to get home. I’ve had an emergency.”
“I know,” she said. “Girl, what’s going on? That lady on the phone told me that she had to talk to you right away.”
“Well, my kitchen burned down. I guess that’s emergency enough.”
Pearl grimaced and pur
sed her lips while she looked at me. “You leave your stove on?”
“No. But it’s an old house. Old wiring. Probably something happened where something shorted out or something.”
“Have your fridge looked at. I hear that is sometimes a problem. I hear people have had their house burned down because of a bad fridge.”
“A bad fridge? How does that catch fire?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t say that I knew how it catches fire, I only heard that sometimes they do. Like it’s a spontaneous combustion or something.”
“Hm, that’s weird. Really weird.”
“When can they find out what happened?”
“I don’t know, probably a week. Why?”
“You should watch yourself. I worry about you. You’re always meeting this tough dudes who get pissed-off at you. One of these days, one of those guys might get you. I just don’t want to see that happen.”
“Thanks for looking out for me.”
At that, I left the office and got into my car and headed to my house.
WHEN I GOT THERE, I saw the fire trucks and police cars outside my house. I shook my head and got out of the car.
“A bit of an overkill, isn’t it guys? Bringing out two fire trucks and three police cars?” I smiled at one of the firefighters, who was standing outside my house and making notes on a pad of paper.
“We can’t be too careful,” he said to me with a smile back.
“Ha. I know the truth. You guys hang around the fire house bored to tears, just itching for something to do. Along comes a little kitchen that burns down, and it’s excitement time. Admit it. You just love the thrill.”
His slight smile when I said that showed that I hit the nail on the head. “We’re investigating the cause of the fire,” he said. “So, I’m sorry, you can’t go into your kitchen just yet. There’s a yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the kitchen.”
“A crime scene tape? Is that necessary?”
“It’s a suspicious fire,” he said. “We did check to make sure that all your appliances were turned off, and they were. Until we find out the cause of the fire, we have to investigate it.”
I sighed. “I have this psychotic client. My car was bashed in, now this. I would imagine he’s behind it. I mean, not him, exactly, because he’s in prison, but he has buddies on the outside.”
A cop came over, one that I didn’t know. “Hello, ma’am, I heard you speaking with Tom here about a client of yours. Could you tell me more about him?”
I told him the story about John, and about he was angry with me, as the cop, whose name was Officer Heaney, rapidly wrote down what I told him.
“Is there anybody else who might be behind this?” Officer Heaney asked.
“I’m a criminal defense attorney. Take your pick.”
“We’ll investigate this John,” he said. “But I need to know who else might be threatening you.”
“Well, there is this one guy. He leads a cult. He’s extremely odd. His name is Reverend John Scott. He’s upset with me because I’ve been snooping around his cult.”
“Reverend John Scott,” he said. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Yeah? Maybe you’re investigating him for something else? If you’re not, you probably should be.”
He shook his head. “The KCPD is a large organization. If one of the divisions is investigating him, I wouldn’t necessarily know about it. No, I’ve heard his name in another context.”
He was furrowing his brow and shaking his head while he wrote some notes on a yellow sheet of paper. Where have I heard that name, he was mumbling to himself.
Then he snapped his fingers and looked at me. “My sister was talking about him.”
I wondered if this was significant. “Does your sister happen to have somebody who is LGBT in her family?”
“My nephew. He’s deceased now, though.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Deceased? Can I ask you what happened to him?”
Officer Heaney looked uncomfortable. He scratched his neck and looked down at the ground. “He committed suicide,” he said. “Hanged himself.”
I drew a breath. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged. “It happens. My sister never accepted him, neither did her husband. I think that the poor kid had a hard time.” He let out a mighty sigh. “Anyhow, that’s neither hear nor there.”
I was going to have to ask him something sensitive, but necessary, under the circumstances. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did your nephew leave a suicide note?”
“No.”
“Was there an autopsy?”
I crinkled his brows. “No. Why would there be an autopsy? He hanged himself, that’s that.”
I was striking a nerve, but I had to press on. “Is anybody sure that he died from the hanging? Or maybe he was dead before he was hanged?”
Now Officer Heaney was looking annoyed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course he died by his hanging. What kind of a question is that?”
“I’m an attorney. It’s my job to ask the tough questions. Anyhow, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
Officer Heaney shuddered slightly and shook his head. “Well, I’ll do those investigations of those two people,” he said. “I’m sorry, but you can’t use your kitchen until our investigation is through.”
“I’ll live.” I checked my watch. “In the meantime, I need to get to court. I’m late for a hearing.”
I got into my car and turned on the radio, but my mind was 1,000 miles away. The puzzle pieces were starting to fit.
But could I prove it in a court of law?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I met Agent Springer at Manny’s on the Boulevard. It was a two-story Mexican restaurant that was right in the middle of the area that Kansas Citians refer to as “Little Mexico.” There was plenty of Mexican restaurants around the area, along with different shops that sold Mexican items. The restaurant was on the corner and was marked by an orange and green sign that was vertical on the side of the building.
Manny’s was one of my favorite places to get greasy Mexican food. It was always jammed, it seemed, even though it was two-stories and could probably seat 500 people.
I walked in, and there was Agent Springer. He stood up when I came in, and I thought I saw a look of hope in his eyes. Or maybe it was just my wishful thinking.
“Harper,” he said. “You made it.”
“I did. I’m sorry about earlier. My kitchen caught fire.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “I remember. You told me.”
“That’s right, I did.” I suddenly felt self-conscious.
“That’s okay. I repeat myself all the time.”
Just then, the hostess came over. “How many is in your party?” she asked us.
“Just two.”
She led the way through the darkened room, and we took our seat at a two-top table. Our waiter came over to us almost immediately, gave us chips and salsa, and took our drink orders.
“Just water for me,” I said. I was somehow embarrassed to be only ordering water, because it made me seem cheap. But I didn’t like pop and I couldn’t drink tea because I had a hard time processing caffeine, so I usually stuck with water.
“Me too,” Axel said.
“You can get some tequila,” I said, nudging him from across the table.
“Nope. I have an aunt in a 12-step,” he said. “I know what it’s like to want a drink and have your companion drinking.” He raised his hand. “Solidarity.”
I raised my chip. “Solidarity.”
The waiter left and I leaned in closer to Axel. “So, I don’t want to beat around the bush. What do you have for me?”
“You are an impatient one, mate” he said with a smile. “But I’ll tell you. I’m investigating the murders of five LGBT youth in the past month. I was confused before about what, if any, connection there was between them, but I think that I found it.”
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The waiter came back and gave us our waters and I took a sip. “I’m on pins and needles,” I said. “What did you come up with?”
“Well, all these blokes’ families had one thing in common. And the reason why I’m involving you is because you have a client who also has this one thing in common. And that is that all of their families, their mothers and/or fathers, went to-“
“The Church of the Living Breath,” I said excitedly. My eyes got wide. “That’s it. That’s…” I didn’t want to jump the gun, but, at the same time, I could see the puzzle piece fitting nicely in. Finally. I was suddenly excited, so excited that I had to see my client right that second, and contact the DA to see if I could possibly get the case dismissed.
“That’s what?”
“Don’t you see? It’s a cult. A cult where the leader is a very charismatic and strange person. He holds his people in something like a trance. He’s extremely anti-gay. Virulently anti-gay. He must be convincing his people, brainwashing them, and telling them that they have to kill their gay kids. And trans kids. Oh, he says that the parents first must try to change their LGBT sons and daughters, but, when they don’t change, he tells them to kill their kids.”
Axel’s eyes looked skeptical. “I actually wasn’t thinking that, but it’s, uh, an interesting theory. One that I’ve never heard of before. Who’s going to kill their kids just because a cult leader tells them to?”
“You don’t seem to know much about cults,” I said. “I’ve studied them a little bit, and I can tell you that the followers will do anything that their leaders tell them to do. Not within reason, but whatever they’re told to do. Now here are these gay kids, and all of them have family in that church? I think that you have your answer right there.”
He shook his head. “Maybe. I’ll have to do some more investigating, but it’s an interesting theory.”
“What’s your theory?” I asked him as I dipped a chip into the salsa. The salsa was light and fresh and aromatic. It was heavy on the cilantro, which means it was just as I liked it.
“I was looking into the possibility that there was a serial killer who was targeting specifically the kids in that church. The gay kids in that church. I figured that there was somebody who knew these kids, came across them, from the kids going to this church, and that made these kids a target. Somebody unhinged, who feels that the kids are spoiling this church with their very presence. I’ve investigated serial killers before, and it sounds like the most logical explanation. A more logical explanation than that parents are killing their own kids just because a charismatic leader tells them to.”
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