Page 10
I stay at the library to do research and look through my notes for a while longer before the rumbling of my stomach reminds me that I haven’t had an actual lunch today. The fruit at Bellamy’s house feels like a long time ago, and I pack up everything to go to a restaurant I saw not too far away so I can grab something to eat before going to Ander’s house.
Rather than taking up a table, I slide onto a stool at a lunch counter and smile at the waitress dressed in an old-fashioned pink uniform. She comes over to me with a mug and a pot of coffee, pouring me a cup before even asking if I want it. I guess the majority of people who make their way into this place are on a near-constant stream of caffeine, so she doesn’t feel the need to confirm. I wouldn’t have ordered the hot coffee if she’d asked, but now that it’s sitting in front of me, I’m glad I have it.
She offers me a menu. “My name’s Lisa. Let me know when you’re ready,” she says.
“Thanks.”
Lisa smiles and walks away to tend to the others sitting at the lunch counter. They seem like regulars with the way they chat and laugh. I glance over the menu and settle on a simple BLT with a side salad. I call Lisa over to give her my order, and she eyes me curiously.
“You just here alone?” she asks. “No one coming to meet you?”
“No. I’m actually just taking a break from work,” I tell her.
“What do you do?” she asks.
“I’m an FBI agent,” I say.
She looks something close to impressed and nods as she takes the menu and brings the order to the kitchen. I scroll through my phone as I wait for my food, reading emails that have come in and laughing at pictures Bellamy has posted of Bebe trying to feed a giraffe at the zoo. It only takes a few minutes for my sandwich to come out, and when she sets it in front of me along with a glass of iced water, Lisa has the same curious expression on her face.
“Are you really in the FBI?” she asks.
I nod. “I am.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asks. “I think I’d recognize you if you’d been in here before.”
“No. I’m actually from Sherwood. I’m in town doing an investigation,” I say.
Her eyes suddenly go wide. “You’re investigating that murder, aren’t you? That guy who was stabbed in his apartment. I heard on the news they brought the FBI in for it.”
“Yes. His name was Gideon Bell,” I tell her. “I’m investigating his murder and the attack on his roommate.”
She shudders. “Horrible to think about something like that happening right in your own home. I heard he was sleeping when it happened. I guess that’s better. He didn’t know what hit him. Just one second he was dreaming, and the next he was in glory. But it’s scary to think about not even being safe in your own bed.”
“It is,” I agree. “What else have you heard about the murder?”
She leans against the counter. “He worked for that Tracy Ellis woman. That’s probably why someone went after him.”
The comment piques my interest. “Why do you say that?”
“Haven’t you ever listened to her? To the people who admire her and think like her, she’s some sort of modern-day saint, but for everybody else, she’s a nightmare. I’ve watched her videos a few times just to try to see the draw. I don’t get it. Not many people can get that riled up and spew that much hate in the name of faith. I always grew up thinking that church and religion were supposed to be about loving each other and trying to help each other get through life the best they could. She’s nothing like that. At least not unless you’re one of the tiny population of people she thinks are of any good in life. Or one who wants to be like that. She makes a lot of people very angry with the things she says,” Lisa says.
“She’s local to the area,” I say. “Right?”
Lisa nods. “I’m actually surprised with how popular she’s gotten that she’s stayed around here. We’re not exactly a small town, but I would think that she would be more interested in being in a big city where she could get even more attention.”
“I think that being able to say she’s from a place like this is part of the persona,” I say. “She wants to seem down-to-earth and approachable to everyone rather than like a member of the elite. Have you ever interacted with her?”
“She’s come in here,” Lisa confirms. “She recorded almost the whole time, but when she didn’t have her phone pointed at herself, she was a totally different person. Like you said, she was talking into the camera like she comes in here all the time and is just a good ol’ hometown girl. But then when she wasn’t recording, she was rude and dismissive of everyone working here. She greeted a few people who were here and had that big, fake smile, but then her bodyguard started shooing people away from her, and she left without saying anything.”
Lisa leaves me to eat my lunch, but I’m still thinking about her assessment of Tracy Ellis as I pay and leave. It seems the woman’s reputation for being divisive and controversial is very accurate, which only means the list of potential suspects just keeps getting longer.
When it’s time to meet with Ander Ward, I drive through a quiet neighborhood of beautifully kept homes on lush lawns that make me thirsty just thinking of all the water needed to keep them that green. I bring my notepad and file of notes with me as I climb the stone steps onto their front porch and ring the bell.
Ander has changed out of his suit and into more casual clothes when he comes to the door to let me in.
“Agent Griffin,” he says. “Come in.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And thank you, again, for letting me come to your home to talk to you.”
“Absolutely,” he says. “My wife is waiting in the living room. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” I say as I follow him through the front of the house to the living room.
There’s a pretty blond woman sitting on the couch when I walk in, and Ander gestures at her.
“This is my wife, Sabrina,” he says.
I hold my hand out to shake hers. “Agent Emma Griffin.”
“Glad to meet you,” she says.
“Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get some lemonade,” Ander says.
There’s a much more comfortable air about him now than there was at the office. He’s at ease now that he’s out of his suit and in his home, away from the pressures of work. I sit down on a cushy recliner and set my bag at my feet.
“I couldn’t believe it when Ander said an FBI agent was coming over to talk about what’s been going on,” Sabrina says. “I just hate that it had to come to someone being murdered for these threats to be noticed.”
“Has Ander been getting them for long?” I ask.
“For a few weeks,” he tells me, coming back into the room with a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses.
He fills a glass and hands it to Sabrina, then fills one for himself, leaving mine empty but sitting there in case I change my mind about wanting a drink while we’re talking. He sits down on the couch beside his wife and rests a hand on her thigh, giving her a thoughtful gaze.
“But to be honest, I didn’t really think about them at first because I’ve seen so much hate mail going to Tracy,” he says. “Being her bodyguard is nothing short of interesting.”
“What is it like?” I ask, urging him to elaborate. “Tell me about working for her.”
“I started about five years ago just as one of her lower-level security guards. I was one of the people who hung around the office building in case something happened and went to events and appearances, but I was stationed around the perimeter, not actually with her. It seemed like pretty much any other security job. I’d done some other security work before, and this didn’t seem much different other than the types of events I’d gone to.
“To be honest, I barely even knew who Tracy Ellis was when I applied for the job. I just needed work, and there was an opening for security. When I met with the staffing director, she asked me all sorts of questions about the things that Tracy teaches and how I felt about her mission. I was honest and said I didn’t know much about it but that I would be willing to learn if that was important to the position. I was willing to say just about anything to land the job,” he says.
“And did you learn about it?” I ask.
“Absolutely. I started listening to her presentations the night I was hired. I was really impressed by how devoted and driven she is. She knows exactly what she believes and doesn’t care about what anyone else thinks. She’s going to talk about it, spread the truth, and do what she can to make the world better, no matter what it takes. It made me really proud to be in the position to protect her,” he says.
“So you believe in what she teaches?” I ask. “This isn’t just about having a job anymore?”
“Definitely not. I think that she is a true revolutionary and will make more happen than anyone can even start to imagine. That’s what got me rising through the ranks until I became her personal bodyguard,” he says. “Tracy said she could see the commitment in me and knew she could place her trust in my hands.”
He looks at his wife, and they exchange a smile. I can see the pride in Sabrina Ward’s eyes, but it’s tempered by worry.
“How do you feel about the people who have so much negativity about Tracy Ellis?” I ask.
“I think they just don’t understand. They aren’t ready to hear the truth and be courageous enough to live it. What she teaches, what she asks of people, isn’t easy. It’s not something that just happens for a lot of people. It takes dedication and true willingness to shed the self and take up a life of sacrifice and adherence to what is right and real rather than what might seem easy or desirable. She tells us that the world around us will make things look natural and easy so that we’ll fall victim to those temptations when what we need to be doing is reminding ourselves of the truth, true nature and reality, and the teachings that show us the way we are meant to live. Those will keep us strong even in the face of temptation.
Ander leans forward and steeples his fingers. “The thing is, Agent Griffin, I get why people might not be receptive to her. She can be difficult to take. Anytime you are faced with something that challenges you and pushes you to grow and change, it can be painful and uncomfortable. People don’t like that. People want to be comfortable and have things the way that comes easy to them. They don’t want to hold a mirror up to themselves and recognize all the faults and flaws that exist, and that’s exactly what Tracy does. She forces people to see these things in themselves so they can take the steps and do the work to make themselves right again. She isn’t delicate about it. She isn’t warm and fuzzy about it. She can’t be. This is far too important for her to be anything but forceful. And that rubs people the wrong way.”
I can certainly hear the influence of Tracy Ellis on the way Ander speaks, and I can’t help but wonder how much of what he just said came directly from her mouth.