The Whole Truth

by James Scott Bell

  “So I listened. And this is what he told me.”

  Hendrickson paused. “I’ll take that water now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.” Meyer left the office for a moment, leaving Steve and Bethany alone with Hendrickson.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Hendrickson said. “It can only end badly for you now.”

  Tiny mice feet clawed Steve’s spine. The man no doubt spoke the truth.

  Meyer came back with the water and Hendrickson drank. He cleared his throat and seemed to be gathering his strength, like a weight lifter about to do the clean and jerk.

  “The boy in the fire was Eldon LaSalle’s own son.”

  Steve almost slipped out of his chair. He saw Meyer’s eyes filling the thick lenses of his glasses. Even Bethany seemed stunned.

  No one said anything for a long moment. Then Hendrickson continued. “Eldon LaSalle came to these mountains after building that place he calls Beth-El. He was able to keep tight control over the information flowing out of it. I don’t think anyone even knew he had a son until years later, a son named Johnny. Only Walker knew the truth. The truth about Eldon LaSalle’s son.”

  Hendrickson took another sip of water in what was obviously an ordeal.

  “He brought Walker up to the place in secret to examine his son. It was clear he was not the son LaSalle wanted as his heir. He was retarded. I guess that’s not the term you’re supposed to use now. I can’t keep up. He was not perfect, let’s put it that way, and that was all that mattered to LaSalle. Sometime up there Walker made his deal with the devil. I don’t know all that was involved after that, how much money may have changed hands. But Walker was in deep.

  “I sometimes wonder why LaSalle didn’t just kill poor Walker. I know Walker has two daughters who he was estranged from. But he loved them. They came to represent the only good thing he’d ever done. Maybe LaSalle told Walker if he ever spoke about anything, he’d deal with the daughters. At the end, I don’t think it would have taken much to scare Walker into doing anything.”

  Suddenly Hendrickson’s eyes narrowed. “If this gets out, they may try to kill Walker and those two girls. You’ve got to promise me you’ll take care of that.”

  Meyer deferred to Steve.

  “Mr. Hendrickson,” Steve said, “I wasn’t entirely up front with you. Yes, I talked to Dr. Phillips, but he shot himself before I left. He’s dead.”

  Hendrickson closed his eyes, paused, nodded. “Then there’s no use holding this thing close to the vest,” he said. “Walker told me that LaSalle had found a boy to his liking, and wanted him to be his only son.”

  Steve had a sudden thought about a TV mini-series he’d seen once. A Stephen King story about a demon who came to an island community in the middle of a storm when no one could get out. He came to take away one of their children, to become his apprentice demon. It was chilling, and as Steve recalled the demon won because the town didn’t stand up to him with collective faith.

  “What happened next was horrible,” Hendrickson continued, “but Walker, for reasons known only to him, went along with it. I do know that in the next few years Walker became quite wealthy. But his drinking got worse.

  “Cole had become a problem for LaSalle. So it was arranged. Cole and the boy died in a fire that was set by someone from LaSalle’s own group. Walker performed the autopsy, but there was still one other role that had to be played.”

  “Mott,” Steve said.

  Hendrickson nodded. “And now you know what’s been hidden all these years. I’m a coward for not coming forward before.”

  “That deputy,” Steve said, “Oderkirk. He was killed, wasn’t he?”

  “I don’t know,” Hendrickson said.

  “You didn’t suspect?”

  “I’ve given up suspecting.”

  “I think Oderkirk started asking questions Mott didn’t like.”

  “That may be.” Hendrickson was a deflated balloon now. He seemed to sink inside his suit.

  Meyer clicked off the tape recorder. “This is all hearsay,” he said. “I believe it, but we need to have direct evidence.”

  “We can exhume the boy’s body, do a DNA match,” Steve said. “He’s buried in Indio. We’d still need LaSalle’s DNA. He predates the databases. I don’t think he has a record.”

  “We’ve got enough for the feds to go up there with a search warrant. They’re going to need a whole team for this one. I better call those two guys in LA.”

  “What about Mott?” Steve said.

  “We have less than nothing on Owen Mott,” Meyer said. “We’re going to have to tread very lightly around that one.”

  “And what about me?” Hendrickson asked.

  “No one needs to know we’ve spoken,” Meyer said. “In the warrant affidavit you will be an anonymous citizen informant. That’s enough to get us through their gates.”

  Bethany spoke. “But will you be able to get out?”

  When the interview with Hendrickson was over, Steve and Bethany filled in gaps with Meyer for another hour and a half.

  Meyer might have gone for another two, but Steve finally said, “That’s it for the night, Meyer. Have you thought about what you’re going to do with us?”

  Apparently he had not. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

  “I’ll help you out,” Steve said. “You’re going to secure a couple of rooms at that Hyatt we saw near the hospital. Under your name. You’re going to spring for the meals and some clothes for Bethany. We’ll kick back there, if you don’t mind. At least until the feds come riding in to town.”

  “Which may be sooner than you think,” Meyer said. He opened his cell phone and made a call, turning his back and walking to a corner of the conference room. A moment later he was back.

  “Just half an hour more,” he said. “Issler and Weingarten just got here.”

  “Already?” Steve said, “How many speed laws did they break?”

  “Doesn’t matter. They’re feds.”

  “All right,” Steve said. “But I want you to bring us another bag of Milanos.”

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Conroy,” Agent Issler said. Weingarten gave him a nod.

  “I missed you guys,” Steve said.

  “I guess you’re ready to help us nail LaSalle?”

  “I am so ready.”

  “Then we need to move fast,” Issler said. “I’m going to need statements from both of you.”

  “Mr. Meyer has it all on tape,” Steve said.

  “Just some things we need for ourselves. We’ll put it all together.”

  Steve looked at Bethany, who seemed ready to fall asleep. “I’ll give you half an hour,” he said. “Then we go into Mr. Meyer’s version of witness protection.”

  It was eight thirty when Steve settled into a room at the Hyatt, with a window that looked out at the mountains. In the moonlight they were but an outline, peaceful in repose.

  Quite an illusion, Steve thought. You’d never know that death was everywhere out there.

  He disconnected the hotel phone and fell into a solid, dreamless sleep.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  It was almost noon when he awoke. The room was quiet but for the hum of the air pumping in. Peaceful. His leg was sore but not unbearable. Best of all, he was outside of Verner and all that it represented.

  He wondered how Bethany was doing. What she would do now. How do you get back into life when the only life you knew was the bizarre world of Eldon LaSalle?

  Maybe he could help her find a job somewhere. Get her some support. Just like he got in recovery. Hers was going to be a recovery from a living death. She’d need some group for that.

  He flicked on the TV to catch the news. Today would be a nice, slow day. Take it easy. He’d make sure Bethany got a good lunch and would charge it to the room. He’d check in with the DA later, find out what the latest —

  The TV came on to the hotel channel. Steve advanced to the next channel.

  Which could have b
een the All Hell Has Broken Loose network. With a banner underneath her that said Verner, California, a female reporter with hair flapping in the breeze was saying, “. . . know so far. At approximately four thirty this morning, agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms served a federal search warrant at the enclave of religious cult leader Eldon LaSalle. We don’t have all the details yet, but one of the agents has been shot by a high-powered weapon. We understand the agent is in critical condition at Traynor Memorial Hospital. Since then, it’s been something of a standoff here. As you can see behind me, more and more vehicles and agents are arriving on the scene. We don’t know how many people are inside the compound, or what arms they have, but agents are making this a very careful — ”

  The backdrop was ATF central. Steve flipped to the next channel. A talking head was on a split screen with a male reporter. “. . . status of several women. There are reports of a hostage situation, but we haven’t been able to confirm. Negotiations appear to be underway. I spoke to one of the agents, who did tell me that the situation is stable for the moment, but it feels like something could blow at any time. What nobody wants is another Waco situation. Again, early this morning federal agents — ”

  Steve put the remote down, plugged in the hotel phone, and called Bethany’s room. She picked up immediately.

  “Have you seen the news?” he asked.

  “News?”

  “There’s an army outside Beth-El. An agent’s been shot. It looks like a standoff.”

  “Oh no.”

  “The other women are apparently being treated like hostages.”

  “Dear God.” It sounded like the truest prayer he’d ever heard.

  “We’ve got to get up there. You have information that can help, about the insides, about — ”

  “It won’t do any good,” she said. “He will kill them all.”

  Steve said, “Get dressed.” Meyer had been good enough to find fresh clothes for both of them, though Steve’s selection was from the jail’s overflow. But this was not going to be a job interview.

  He called the DA’s office next. The receptionist put him through to Meyer.

  “Are you okay?” Meyer asked.

  “Oh yeah, but what about you?”

  “The town is at a complete standstill. The highway’s closed down, traffic everywhere.”

  “I need to get up there with Bethany. We know the inside.”

  “I can’t get to you from over here. I’ll see if I can get somebody on your side to pick you up.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “I hope so,” Meyer said.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  The scene was straight out of a Bruce Willis movie. ATF and FBI, fully armed, were set up along the highway at several points. Two choppers hovered in the sky, over a bevy of law-enforcement vehicles, strategically placed.

  Steve held Bethany’s hand as an agent showed them, along with Mal Meyer, to the command post. The heart of the CP was a black SUV with a full complement of high-tech equipment in the open back.

  Agent Issler was on his phone as Meyer brought up Steve and Bethany. The noise from the choppers mixed with the scratchy sound of electronic voice feeds and the general din of a full-on cordon.

  Steve saw someone else he recognized in the back of the SUV. The guy who’d taken him on the ride, at gunpoint, that night at his law office. He wore black sweats, headphones, and was sitting in front of a laptop. When he saw Steve, he nodded like it was old-home week.

  Issler clapped his phone shut and looked at Steve. “So what have you got?”

  “She was on the inside,” Steve said. “She can give you a layout.”

  Issler said, “Can you start now?”

  Bethany nodded.

  “Then I’ll have you talk to Agent Malone.” He indicated the man in the SUV.

  Bethany squeezed Steve’s hand. “It’ll be all right,” he said, and helped her into the back of the vehicle.

  “Nice to see you again,” Malone said to Steve. “Glad you’re okay.”

  Okay, Steve thought, was a highly relative term. His leg still hurt when he put pressure on it.

  To Issler he said, “What’s the latest?”

  “We have one agent down. Don’t know how many inside, except we think Eldon LaSalle is dead.”

  “What?”

  “Johnny LaSalle is negotiating. We think it would have been Eldon if he was alive.”

  “What’s Johnny saying?”

  “He wants a lot of things he’s not going to get.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “I think you know.”

  Steve gave a quick look to the cordon. “How you going to keep this from being another Waco?”

  “What kind of a question is that?” Issler said.

  “Realistic.”

  “We’re talking.”

  “How long you going to talk?”

  “Mr. Conroy, if you’ll just hold tight.”

  “Do you know if there’s a Sienna Ciccone in there?”

  “Who — ”

  “She’s someone you’re definitely going to want to talk to. She’s in on it.”

  Steve took a step back. From where he was he couldn’t see any of Beth-El. Only the side of a mountain, dotted with a few agents with rifles. A lot of potential death any way you looked at it.

  “Let me,” Steve said.

  “Let you what?” said Issler

  “Talk to him.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “What could it hurt?”

  “It could hurt a lot.”

  “It could help too. I’m the closest thing he’s got to family.”

  At which point Mal Meyer, whom Steve had forgotten was there, said, “Yeah, family who almost got you killed.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Steve said. “You’ll be listening. You can cut it off whenever you want. Just let me talk to him once.”

  The agent paused, then opened his phone and turned his back. He paced a few yards, talking.

  “What are you thinking of saying?” Meyer asked.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Steve said. “I guess I’ll just have to think on my feet. As long as I can stand on my feet.”

  Issler came back. “Let’s go,” he said.

  The negotiator was a man, about forty, with striking gray eyes and short hair the color of ash. Almost Steve’s height, he looked in tremendous shape, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He wore a dark blue T-shirt and matching jeans and a fully featured Sam Browne belt.

  Issler introduced him to Steve. His name was Maxson.

  “So you’re the brother and the lawyer?” Maxson said.

  “That’s right,” Steve said.

  “That’s not bad. You understand that we want to keep him talking?”

  “Yes,” Steve said.

  “Now listen carefully. I do not have command authority. LaSalle knows this. You therefore cannot ask me to make any decisions. Clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “We just want him to talk. You’re a lawyer, you know how to ask open-ended questions, that’s what I want you to do. We’ll be listening. If things go sideways, we’re going to get you off. The longer we can keep things status quo, the better for everyone.”

  “Okay.”

  “He’s doing his best to come off cool. He’s pretty good at it. Keep him that way.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s one hostage in there who needs medical treatment. We’re exchanging some food for her.”

  “Her? Do you know her name?”

  “Sarai. That’s what he gave us.”

  “Can I talk now?”

  “Just remember,” Maxson said. “Keep him talking.”

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  “Hello, Johnny.”

  “Well, this is some sort of miracle! Praise the Lord!”

  “How are you doing?”

  “No, babe, how are you doing? Where you been?”

  “Let’s talk.”
r />   “Not with all the feds listening in. How you doing, Maxson?”

  Steve looked at Maxson, who was listening on a headset. Max-son shrugged.

  “What I say’s confidential,” Johnny said. “So come on up and we’ll talk in person.”

  Maxson shook his head.

  “I don’t know if they’ll let me,” Steve said.

  “Sure they will,” Johnny said. “Maxson’s my bud. Tell him I’ll let two of the ladies go just so I can talk to you.”

  “Sienna,” Steve said. “Let her go.”

  Maxson looked like he would bust a vein in his forehead.

  “Have ’em call me back in five minutes with an answer,” Johnny said. “In five minutes the deal’s off the table.”

  Click.

  “Absolutely not,” Issler said.

  “Two hostages,” Steve said. “That’s a pretty good trade for some talk.”

  “How do you know it’s just going to be talk? How do you know you’ll even come back?”

  “It’s worth a try,” Steve said.

  Issler and Maxson exchanged looks.

  Steve caught something there. “You’re going in, aren’t you?”

  Issler said nothing.

  “Call him back,” Steve said. “Tell him I’m coming up.”

  “No — ”

  “I’m talking as his lawyer. He still has the right to counsel. Now you don’t want to be violating any constitutional rights, do you?”

  “You’re not seriously — ”

  “I am seriously.”

  Issler said, “Wait here.”

  The wait felt like an hour. When Issler came back he said, “You talk at the gate. You bring the two hostages back with you. Then we talk about the next step.”

  “That’s the deal?”

  “That’s it. Are you clear?”

  “Clear.”

  Issler handed Steve a phone. “Press and hold 2. That comes to me. How do you feel?”

  “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “You don’t know me very well, Mr. Conroy.”

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  They dropped Steve fifty yards from the front drive. He walked the rest of the way, limping slightly. He noticed then that it was quieter. The choppers were gone. Part of another deal, maybe?

  All he knew was that he was very much alone at the moment.