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“W hen did you start thinking the threats might be something more serious than just a frustrated person who Tracy rubbed the wrong way?” I ask.

“When the first one came to my home,” he says. “I had been getting them on my car at work and at events, and a couple were mailed to my name at the office. But then one showed up at my house, and that really made me feel like something could be more serious.”

“When did you tell Tracy about them?” I ask.

“She knew I was getting them from the beginning because like I said, some came to the office. She basically told me that I would get used to it like she had and that I didn’t need to be afraid. When I told her that one had come to my home and it frightened my wife, she said that I was being tested and I really needed to think hard about what I was going to do in response. I could let the words of this anonymous person bend me, or I could stand firm and show the world what I was really made of. I made the decision that I wasn’t going to let these things scare me away from something I really believe in,” Ander tells me.

“How did you feel about the threats?” I ask Sabrina.

“They really scare me,” she says. “My husband has tried to reassure me and tell me that there’s nothing to be afraid of, that I can’t show fear or the person has won, but I can’t help it. Getting something to our house was really unnerving. And some of the threats talked about destroying his family. It wasn’t just about him, they were starting to include me too. It hasn’t just been the threats though. There have been a few times when I felt like someone was following me when I was driving, or when I was home alone, I thought someone was trying to get in. It’s never turned out to be anything, or at least anything that we could find, but it’s really hard. But at the same time, I don’t work. Ander is our only income. And I also know how much his job means to him. He loves what he does and feels very strongly about not backing down. I’ve accepted that he can’t just quit because of words on a piece of paper.” Her message is determined, but she doesn’t sound as convinced as the words convey.

“Have you ever had to defend Tracy from someone who was actively trying to hurt her?” I ask.

“There have been a couple times where people have tried to get to her, but they were always easy to defuse,” Ander says. “One time someone showed up at one of her appearances with a gun, but he insisted that he had it because he always carried it and didn’t have any intention of using it against her. One other time, there was a person with a gun at a rally where she was speaking, but again, we were able to bring it to a peaceful close without incident.”

“I want to talk to you about Gideon Bell,” I say.

Sabrina gives a sharp intake of breath, like just the name is difficult for her to hear. Ander takes her hand in his and squeezes it comfortingly.

“He was a good guy,” Ander says. “We didn’t know each other really well, but we were starting to get to know each other better because he was moving up through the ranks in the security team. Over the last few months, he’d started working closer with me at events and appearances. He was a dedicated worker, never complained about anything, and seemed to fit in with the company really well.”

“Did he ever talk to you about getting any of the threats?” I ask.

“No. I know that he did, but only because Tracy mentioned it. He didn’t say anything to me about them,” he says. “I know he got one of them after a talk Tracy did at the local college. A huge protest broke out, and it got a little hairy between the protestors and the people who came to listen to Tracy speak. Gideon and I worked together for that event and ended up having to subdue several people. The police got involved and everything. Usually, events are a lot more closed off and protected than that, so it was one of the more eventful experiences I’ve had working for her.”

“You said there was police involvement, so the protestors would have been able to find out your names,” I say.

“Yes,” he says.

I look over the notes I’ve taken about our conversation and then take out the list of names Tracy gave me.

“Do you know anything about the threatening messages any of these people have gotten?” I ask.

Ander takes the paper from my hand and looks over the list. He points to a name.

“Cameron Sawyer. He came to me after one of the notes showed up on his car. He was really worked up about it. He got really angry when he found out that the only cameras on the building cover the entrances, not the parking lot. I know he went to Tracy about the threats, and she told him the same thing she was telling everybody else. He ended up quitting not too long after he got it. He was the first person to quit because of them,” Ander says.

“So he took them seriously right from the beginning,” I say.

“Definitely. When he left, he told me he thought it was stupid for anyone who was getting threatened to stay with the company, that it wasn’t worth it and he wasn’t going to feel bad about anything that happened if people put themselves in that position,” he says. “I’m sure he’s regretting those words now.”

He looks at the list again. “Grant Pruden, Hilary Watts, and Mila Taylor all spoke about the notes they got at one of the company meetings. Grant’s threats specifically mentioned his parents, whom he takes care of. The other two, I think, just got the same kind of general notes, asking how they could be willing to be a part of her ministry, demanding they quit or speak out against Tracy. That kind of thing. These two,” he says, pointing at the paper, “Marshall and Carla. They’re married. Carla actually just put in her notice. Marshall has been saying that he’s thinking about quitting, but he hasn’t yet. I’ve known Marshall since I started working at the company. He works on the outreach team.”

“Like Marcus Kelsey,” I say.

The name makes Ander go still.

“Yes,” he says.

“One of the people who walked out of the meeting this morning told me I should look into him as possibly being involved in all this. What can you tell me about him?” I ask.

“Marcus was close to Tracy. She trusted him and thought he was one of her most impactful employees. He’s actually the one who made the first contact with the college where the protest happened. They didn’t generally have speakers like Tracy, but he convinced them that it would be a meaningful event for the students and the community around the college, so they let her do it. He’s like her in a lot of ways. They fed off each other and got more whipped up and intense when they were together. She used to have him talk to everybody during company meetings, and she watched him like he was the one leading the ministry.”

“Was there something going on between the two of them?” I ask, wondering if that could be the explanation behind his sudden departure.

“There were some whispers,” Ander admits. “With it being the two of them, I don’t think many people would have wanted to openly speak out about something like that. It wouldn’t fit in with the image that Tracy has with the people who follow her.”

“What do you think?” I ask. “You have a position that puts you close to her. You surely would have seen or heard something if they had a romantic relationship.”

“Tracy has a gift for discretion,” he says. “If she doesn’t want someone to know something, they aren’t going to know it. I definitely am not close to her on a level that would make me privy to any kind of personal relationships she had going on. But I can say that there were a lot of private meetings between the two of them. Then suddenly he was fired. There was one company meeting where she addressed it, but all she said was that circumstances necessitated he be relieved of his responsibilities and commitments to the company. She didn’t give any more details than that, then she didn’t talk about him again.”

“Does she have anyone else in her inner circle like that now?” I ask.

“No,” Ander says, shaking his head.

“Do you think he would be angry enough at her for being fired that he would be willing to send these threats and kill Gideon?” I ask.

“I don’t really have an answer for that. I didn’t know him personally. I only ever saw him when he was ‘on’ for work. I remember the day that he was fired and what he looked like when he stormed out of Tracy’s office. He looked as angry as I’ve ever seen a person. I know I thought then that he could be dangerous. But that doesn’t mean anything. He had just gotten fired, and he was upset. I don’t want to say anything I don’t know for sure,” he says, quickly trying to cover himself for what he is willing to say.

“You’ve been very helpful,” I say. “If you can think of anything else that you think might be important or you get any other notes, please call me.”

“I will.”

I shake both of their hands and leave. They stand with their arms wrapped around each other, waving as I get in my car. I look at the mailbox as I pull away, getting an eerie feeling at the thought of the ominous letters appearing there.

Detective Fuller stands up to shake my hand when I walk into the investigation room after leaving Ander and Sabrina’s house.

“How’s the investigation coming?” he asks.

“I just came from Ander and Sabrina Ward’s house,” I tell him. “Ander is the personal bodyguard of Tracy Ellis and has gotten some of the threats. At least one of them has specifically mentioned his wife. She told me that she has had a couple of incidents where she called the police thinking that she was being followed or that someone was coming into her house. Can you show me those reports?”

“Sure. Give me just a minute, and I’ll get them for you,” he says.

He leaves the room and comes back several minutes later with a slim folder in his hand. He offers it out to me with a slight, apologetic shrug.

“There really isn’t a lot to go through,” he says. “She made four calls over the last couple of months. Two of them were because she was positive that someone was following her while she was driving, one of them because she was home alone and thought someone was coming in, and one of them because she got home and said she felt like someone had been in her house. When officers responded each time, there was no evidence of anything happening. In fact, the time that she called because she was home alone and thought someone was coming in, it turned out to be her husband coming home early from work. He’d locked his keys and phone in the car and was trying to get in using an old key they had hidden but got stuck in the lock.

“She admitted that she was just feeling a little jumpy and was fine by the time the officers left. We haven’t heard anything else from her since. While the officers were talking to her, she did report the threats her husband was getting and said she thought they were just getting to her. But he reassured her everything was going to be fine, and she said that she was all right before the officers left.”

“There was never any indication of anything in any of the four calls?” I ask.

“Nothing that the officers could pinpoint,” he says. “I mean, it’s almost impossible to prove that someone was following you unless you have a camera to capture it, but she wasn’t able to give any details about the car, the driver, or anything. She said she just felt like there was someone right behind her and they were driving aggressively.”

“So it was probably just someone in a hurry who didn’t like that she was following traffic laws, and it spooked her,” I say.

“Probably.”

I nod and flip the file shut. “All right. Thanks for getting that for me.”

I stand up and head for the door.

“Where are you going now?” he asks.

“I have a few other people I want to talk to about these threats. Someone has to know something.”