I call Leslie Downing the next morning and am able to get contact information for everyone on the list. My call to Grant Pruden goes straight to voicemail, so I leave him a message and move on to Hilary Watts and Mila Taylor. Another voicemail for Hilary Watts comes before I finally get ahold of Mila Taylor. She’s cooperative and willing to talk to me, but she doesn’t have much new information to offer. She tells me essentially the same things I’ve already heard, including that she doesn’t have any idea who might be sending the notes or could have killed Gideon.

I ask her if she is planning on quitting the company, and she hesitates.

“I don’t want to. This has been a really great job for me, and I feel like I’m doing something that matters. I feel like this is exactly what Tracy has been telling us. Just a big test of how committed we are and how much we choose to lean into our faith when times are difficult. I don’t want to seem like I’m questioning anything or that I’m not dedicated to the ministry. But Gideon’s death has really scared me. I don’t know what to think anymore,” she says.

That is a sentiment that is far from the thoughts of Cameron Sawyer. I meet up with him at a coffee shop during his break from his new job half an hour after I get off the phone with Mila. His hands wrapped around a caramel cold brew, and a mini quiche all but forgotten on a plate beside him, he stares directly into my eyes without any hesitation or signs of reluctance.

“There was no way I was sticking around that place after the threats started coming in,” he says.

“You knew that she and the ministry got hate mail all the time though,” I say. “Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Everybody knows about stuff like that. Tracy almost takes pride in it. She’ll stand up in front of the whole company and read the letters that she gets, then break them apart and detail exactly what kind of sinner wrote the letter and why it only strengthens her resolve in her ministry. She believes that the more hate she receives, the better she’s doing at her mission,” he says.

“Then what made these different?” I ask, taking a sip of my own drink and tearing off a chunk of the scone I ordered.

“They weren’t going to Tracy or to the ministry in general,” he points out. “They were going to specific people, and some of them had details about the families and lives of the people they were sent to. Mine only said that I would pay dearly for loyalty to the devil. It wasn’t personalized, but it was enough for me. It was under my windshield wiper blade when I found it, and I thought for sure that there would be enough security around the building that they would at least have an image of who put it there. Then I found out that they don’t have cameras covering the parking lots.

“That made me really angry. We were in a work environment that was inherently risky just because of what we were doing and the way people felt about it, yet there wasn’t any kind of security in place to make sure we were protected. I went to Tracy about the situation, and she brushed me off. It was the same song-and-dance bullshit about being tested and digging deep into faith to push through. She wanted me to be an example to whoever was sending them that I couldn’t be shaken.”

“But you weren’t willing to do that,” I say.

“Hell no. I’m not like the drones working for her. They lap up everything she says and treat it like she wrote the Bible itself. That was never me. I got the job by telling the staffing director that I would adhere to the standards in the contract and be a part of the company culture in all ways visible to anyone else. Essentially, I promised to act like them if I was going to work for the company, but it was never really in me. In fact, I think the way that woman acts and the things she says are bullshit and can cause a lot of harm. Then when the threats started and that was the way the company responded, I decided there was no way I was going to stay working for someone willing to risk my life when I didn’t have the personal or spiritual conviction to back it up.”

Cameron’s words are still with me as I leave the coffee shop and start toward Carla and Marshall Powell’s house. I called them while I was waiting for Cameron, and they invited me to come to their house to talk. As I drive, I let what Cameron said roll around in my mind. The other people I’ve spoken to have expressed great commitment to the ministry and even loyalty to Tracy. Even the three who walked out of the meeting didn’t speak out against anything that Tracy teaches or the work of the ministry; they were just unwilling to continue feeling in danger.

But Cameron is openly unmoved by the ministry and critical of Tracy. He said that he acted like he fit in with the company culture while he worked there, but it stands out to me that he received the threats along with true devotees. It makes me wonder why the killer chose the recipients that they did. They obviously knew them well enough to know their address and their cars, but they either missed or didn’t care about the level of devotion that they felt for the ministry.

I pull into the driveway of the Powell house and walk up a flower-lined sidewalk to the large front porch. A cat looks at me through the narrow windows on either side of the front door, and I am finger-waving at it when a man I’m assuming is Marshall opens the door in response to my knock.

He smiles as I straighten. “Tabitha gets all the attention,” he says. “She likes to just sit there and bask in it.”

“She’s beautiful,” I say as the sleek, black cat stands and walks away, flicking her tail lightly through the air as she goes. “And I think she knows it.”

“She certainly does. I’m Marshall Powell.”

“Agent Emma Griffin,” I tell him. “Thank you for letting me come talk to you.”

“Of course, please come in. My wife isn’t here at the moment. She had to run out, but she should be back soon,” he says.

We walk down the front hallway into the living room, and he gestures for me to sit down.

“This shouldn’t take too long. I just wanted to talk to you about what’s been going on at the Tracy Ellis Ministry and the death of Gideon Bell,” I say. “Tracy gave me your name when I asked about her employees who have received the threatening messages.”

Marshall nods and sits down. “Yes. My wife and I have both gotten them,” he says.

“What did you think when you first got one?” I ask.

“I thought it was someone Tracy had offended, and they were trying to make a point,” he says.

“That’s a pretty common sentiment,” I tell him.

“Unfortunately, she has a tendency to make enemies,” he says. “She has a lot of the opposite too, or at least her ministry does. But everywhere she goes, there are people who don’t want her there and are angry about what she is saying. You get used to hearing some pretty vulgar, disgusting things come out of people’s mouths when they’re getting hurled at you every week. It used to shock me. I couldn’t believe anyone would think things like that, much less actually say them out loud. But then it just kept happening, and I realized it was just going to be part of the job.”

“What changed?” I ask.

“I found out they were going to other people and some of them were getting really specific and pointed. It felt like this was something different,” he says.

The front door opens, and a second later, a woman comes bustling in with her arms laden with grocery bags.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “The lines were all the way to the back of the store. You would think they would have more than two cash registers open. It was ridiculous. I was just trying to pick up a few things for dinner, and it took me almost two hours.”

“It’s all right, honey,” Marshall says. “Agent Griffin and I were just talking.”

She looks at me, and her cheeks go pink. “I’m sorry… Yes, Marshall told me you would be coming by.”

“Not a problem,” I tell her.

“I’m Carla,” she says, crossing from the open-concept kitchen into the living room area to shake my hand. “Marshall told me that Tracy introduced you to the company yesterday morning. Give me just a second to put these things away, and I’ll be right in.”

She hurries back over to the kitchen and starts pulling things out of the grocery bags she put on the island.

“How would you describe your feelings toward the ministry?” I ask Marshall.

“My feelings toward it?” he asks. “Like do I believe everything that Tracy stands for?” His eyes slide up slightly, like he’s trying to see the thoughts going through his mind and searching for the right words to answer me. “I believe that she believes it. I believe that she thinks that she is doing something good and what she is supposed to be doing. There are elements of what she teaches that I believe, but over time, she has gotten more aggressive about things that I can’t align myself with fully.”

“Does it cause problems for you within the company that you aren’t fully sold on everything that she says?” I ask.

“No, I don’t talk about it with anyone within the company. But it is a big part of why I’m leaving it,” he says.

“You’re planning on quitting?” I ask. “I heard that Carla put in her notice.”

“And I’m taking all my accrued vacation time to fill out the last two weeks so I don’t have to go back,” she says, coming into the room with us. “That’s why I wasn’t at the meeting. I have no interest in working there for another second. We are ready to move on.”

“You said it was in part because of how you feel about the ministry. Does that mean it isn’t because of the threats?” I ask.

The couple looks at each other as Carla settles into her husband’s arm on the couch.

“We started talking about getting a fresh start a few months ago,” Marshall says. “We decided to move to be closer to Carla’s family and see what kind of new adventures we can get into. Both of us had been questioning how much we really wanted to be working for Tracy Ellis and her ministry, and it just started to fall into place. But we didn’t want to rush anything. We wanted to make sure that we had everything settled and were really ready before we quit. Ideally with positions lined up and everything.

“Then the threats started, and it felt like that was the real sign. We both heard Tracy’s assertions about the situation, and it didn’t sit right with either of us. We knew then that being with the company wasn’t right for us anymore. We didn’t have it in us to put what we felt like was our lives on the line for the organization, and that was the only thing that would have changed our plans.”

“Does Tracy know about your plans?” I ask.

“Yes,” Marshall tells me. “I told her so that she wouldn’t be blindsided by it. She told me that I should reconsider, that staying here rather than moving would be a bold statement to the coward sending the anonymous messages, and it would make so much of a difference to everyone within the company. She tried really hard to convince me, but it’s just not something I can do. I was expecting her to fire me when I turned her down, but I think because I didn’t quit on the spot, she still has some hope that I’m going to change my mind and stay. Maybe even shepherd Carla back into the fold.”

“Which isn’t going to happen,” Carla says. “I’m really ready for our new life, and I can’t wait for it all to work out. We’re just waiting to hear on a couple of positions for Marshall.”

“Did you happen to have kept any of the notes that you got?” I ask.

“Yes, actually,” Carla says.

She walks out of the room and comes back with a few pieces of paper in her hand.

“I don’t know why, but I thought it would be important to hang on to them. I’ve just been keeping them in the office.”

I take the notes and read them.

Turn your back on the vile teachings or be punished

Walk away or lay down your life for the wicked

You work for a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Cleanse yourself and be spared.

“Do any of these sound familiar to you for any reason? Have you heard these phrases used before?” I ask.

“They sound vaguely religious,” Marshall says. “Like someone is trying to reference Tracy without saying her name and using religious language to make a point. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard these specific messages.”

“Neither have I,” Carla says.

“How well did you know Gideon Bell?” I ask.

“We’ve both worked with him for a couple of years,” Marshall says. “We’ve hung out with him in group settings with other people from work, so I’d say we were friends, but we weren’t really close. It isn’t as easy being friends with someone who isn’t married. He was just at a different place in his life.”

“I understand,” I say. “So he wouldn’t have had reason to tell you if he was worried about someone in particular, like if he had suspicions about who might be sending the threats?”

“I don’t know if I would say he would have no reason to,” Marshall says. “He knew that Carla and I had gotten them too, and if I had suspected someone, I think I would have said something to him about it. Comparing notes, so to speak. If he did have any suspicions, he never said anything to me.”

I notice Carla getting emotional, tears starting to well in her eyes, and she brushes her hand in front of her face like she’s embarrassed to be crying.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“There’s no reason to say you’re sorry,” I tell her. “Someone you knew was murdered. That’s plenty cause to feel emotional.”

“He was just a really good guy,” she says. “He was always kind to everyone and tried to help out any way that he could. I don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt him. And it just really scares me to think that this person is following through with the threats that they’ve sent. Does it mean that…”

“Stop, honey,” Marshall says, pulling his wife up against his side for a tight hug. “You can’t let yourself think that way. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She nods tearfully and looks up at him with a soft smile. “I know.”

I thank them both for letting me come to the house and give them a business card so they can get in touch with me if they think of anything else. Marshall walks me to the door with a steely look in his eyes.

“My wife is terrified,” he says. “She’s already quit and won’t go anywhere near the offices, but I don’t think that’s enough. I think I’m going to have to put in my notice so that she will feel more secure.”

“You need to do what you feel is right,” I tell him. “Whatever is going to make this easier for you. Just know that I’m doing everything in my power to find out who is doing this.”

“Thank you.”