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“I think that we’ve got enough for tonight,” Officer Trammel says. “We’ll talk to Mrs. Powell more tomorrow.”

They leave, and as I watch them walk out the door, I’m shocked to see Tracy Ellis come in. I stalk over to her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Something has happened to a member of my company, and I am here to provide spiritual support,” she says.

“Where were you and your spiritual support when Gideon and Sabrina were murdered?” I ask.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to be there for their loved ones when I should have been, and I regret that, but I’m here now, and I want to know what happened,” she says.

“How do you even know that something happened?” I ask, briefly wondering if Marshall called her after dropping the call with police dispatch.

“Another employee, Miles Kaufman, lives on the same street as Marshall and Carla Powell. When he saw the police cars and ambulance go to their house, he called me to let me know that there was an emergency and my prayers were gravely needed. Please, Agent Griffin, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye in some parts of this investigation, but you need to understand how important this is. I’m here to bring peace and comfort. I need to know what happened. Miles said he saw Carla run into the house. Does that mean something happened to Marshall?” Tracy asks.

“I’m not going to give you any information about what happened tonight. This is an emerging situation, and I don’t need your interference,” I say. “You need to leave.”

“I have just as much right to be here as you do,” she says. “If something happened to Marshall, Carla is going to need support and guidance. I know she recently strayed from the flock, but I am still here to be a prayer warrior with her and keep vigil over Marshall.”

“She didn’t stray from a flock. She quit your company because she wants a new life for herself and her husband,” I say. “And it’s up to her if she wants you to know anything about what’s happening or if she wants you here. You can’t decide that for her.”

“And neither can you,” she shoots back icily.

I glance over at the door again and notice a figure standing just outside. He shifts, moving his weight to one foot, but he doesn’t turn around to look inside.

“Is that Ander?” I ask.

“Yes, I called him when I decided to come here. I thought it might be a good idea for me to have security with me considering the situation,” she says.

“I thought you said not to be afraid and that you weren’t going to back down or show any fear in the face of a mere human,” I point out.

Her face goes red as she obviously struggles to come up with reasoning.

We fall into an icy silence and stay that way for several minutes as I wait for Carla to come back from talking to the doctor. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice people gathering outside the doors. Ander holds his arm out to stop them from going any further. I can hear the muffled sound of them shouting, but the thick glass of the doors stops the words from coming through. I start toward the door to find out what’s happening, but I turn around when I hear Carla’s voice.

“What’s going on? Tracy, what are you doing here?” she asks.

I walk over to her, putting myself between the two women as Tracy rushes forward like she’s going to grab on to her.

“Oh, dear, I had to come be here for you in your time of crisis,” Tracy says around me. “Please tell me that Marshall is all right.”

“How did you even find out about this?” she demands, the gaze she gives me filled with the question of whether I might have called her to tell her about the attack.

“Someone deeply concerned about the two of you and aware of your need for spiritual guidance and strength at this time called me,” she says.

“Miles,” Carla says with a note of disdain in her voice. “I can’t believe he thought it was his place to call you and tell you anything.”

Tracy contorts her face into a hurt expression. “I thought you would be glad that I was here. There are so many people praying for you right now. Don’t you know that? So many people holding you in their hearts and lifting you up as you walk through this trial.”

My eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

The doors slide open as someone comes into the hospital, and I can hear a snippet of the shouting from outside. I catch Tracy’s name and immediately turn my attention to what is unfolding right outside.

“Something is going on out there,” the man who just came in says to the nurse behind the registration desk. “You might want to do something about it.”

I see Ander standing directly in front of the doors with his arms fully outstretched, shifting his weight back and forth as he tries to contain the growing group of people gathering on the sidewalk.

The nurse walks out from behind the desk, and the doors slide open as she steps in front of them. I hear the shouting again, and a few more words get to me. The people are clearly furious.

“What’s happening?” Carla asks.

I put my hands on her shoulders and gently move her backward further away from the doors.

“Stay here,” I say. “I’m going to go find out.”

I walk over to the doors and step out into the pool of light illuminating the entrance in the late-night darkness.

“Where is she?” one of the people demands. “She’s in there, isn’t she?”

“She should be locked up!” another shouts.

“FBI,” I call out over the clamor to get their attention. “Someone tell me what’s going on here.”

“Tracy Ellis should be ashamed of herself,” someone says. “This is her fault, and she’s trying to get even more notoriety with it.”

“All she wants is attention, and it’s disgusting.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“She went live to announce that someone else in her company was attacked.”

“She went live?” I gasp.

“On her social media channel,” someone explains. “She was standing in front of the person’s house showing the police cars and then announced that she was going to go to the hospital. Then she put up a QR code asking for donations. It’s revolting what she’s doing.”

Rage rushes up inside me, and without another word, I turn and go back into the waiting area. Tracy is standing close to Carla, who looks uncomfortable and keeps glancing over at the door. I stalk up to Tracy, who turns to me just as I get within a couple of steps of her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing making a live post about this attack?” I demand.

“You announced Marshall’s attack on a live post?” Carla asks in disbelief. “Who do you think you are?”

“I was gathering prayer warriors to surround you with their light and strength,” Tracy says in a cloying tone meant to manipulate Carla into accepting the massive violation.

“What you did was report a crime that had not been released to the public and make speculations you have no right to make,” I growl. “You didn’t know what happened at that house or who might have been involved. You only assumed that it had something to do with the other attacks and decided that you were going to spread that to whoever would listen, then try to profit off it.”

Tracy raises herself to her full height, seemingly unbothered by my obvious fury. “My viewers frequently ask me how they can support the ministry and ensure I can continue to spread the truth and encourage those finding their path. I don’t see the problem with providing them that avenue.”

“You’re going to take down that video,” I say.

“I don’t have to do anything. I didn’t break any laws by talking about something that was visibly happening right in front of the entire neighborhood. Anyone would have the same grave concerns I did when I heard what was happening. I just decided to be proactive about it and let it be known. People deserve to know what’s happening,” she argues.

“No one deserves to know my business,” Carla says. “Including you.”

“You’re going to take down the video, or Carla will have strong grounds for legal action, which I will actively support,” I tell her. “You’ve already caused enough difficulty.”

Tracy glares at me, but she takes out her phone.

“Fine,” she says.

As she’s deleting the video, I hear the nurse gasp and look up to see the crowd outside erupting into chaos. I run to the door in time to see Ander tackling one of the protestors to the ground. I watch as the man on the ground bucks up to force the security guard off him and plants a punch directly into Ander’s face. Ander comes down on him with a return punch, and the man forces him off, shoving him onto his back on the ground.

The rest of the group scatters back as the men grapple on the ground, forcefully shoving each other into the concrete and delivering blows to wherever they can plant their fists.

“Stop it!” I shout.

I push past one of the protestors and reach down to grab the man who has gotten the upper hand again. Getting a handful of the back of his shirt, I wrench him away from Ander and force him to the side. He looks up at me like he’s going to lash out at whoever ended the fight, but he stops when he meets my eyes. Ander gets to his feet as the sound of sirens fills the air and two police cars zoom into the parking lot.

Several of the protestors scurry away, but I point directly at the man who was just fighting with Ander.

“Neither of you move,” I say.

I stare at Ander, who has the back of one hand pressed to his swelling cheekbone. That fight was completely unnecessary. I don’t know what triggered the first blow, but nothing I saw happening when I was outside was enough to cause that kind of reaction.

The same two officers who were here with Carla before Tracy arrived get out of their cars and jog over to us.

“What’s going on here?” Massengill asks loudly. He catches my eye. “Agent Griffin. What is this?”

“These people came to protest Tracy Ellis,” I tell the officers. “She showed up here not long after you left and apparently had done a live segment on her social media speculating on the attack on Marshall Powell.”

“She has to be stopped,” one of the protestors says. “She’s costing lives.”

The officer holds up his hand. “What she says is protected by free speech. She has the right to have whatever opinions and thoughts she wants to have and express them within reason.”

“Within reason,” the protestor emphasizes.

“If she isn’t violating the rules and standards of whatever platform she chooses, then it is within reason,” he points out. “Just like you expect to be able to speak out against her, she has the right to speak about whatever she wants to.”

“And we have the right to protest it.”

“You don’t have the right to block the public entrance to a hospital and engage in a physical altercation,” he points out.

“I didn’t even do anything,” the man who fought with Ander insists. “I was just standing there, and all I said was that the murders and attacks are Tracy Ellis’s fault. It’s her hate and backward thinking that are causing all this. Then all of a sudden, he came at me. I barely even knew what was happening. All I did was defend myself.”

I expect Ander to argue, to say something to warrant the apparently unprovoked fight. But he stays silent, brooding as she glares at the officers.

“Ander is Tracy’s bodyguard,” I explain to the officers.

Massengill gestures at the group. “You all need to leave. Break this up right now. I want you gone.”

There are grumbles and mutters of the officers abusing their power and pushing them around, but the group disbands without further incident, and soon it’s just Ander and the man he fought standing with the officers giving their statements. I go back into the hospital and walk up to Tracy forcefully.

“You need to leave,” I tell her. “You need to go home and keep quiet. Ander is out there talking to the police because he just tried to beat the hell out of one of the protestors. Fortunately, the guy was able to hold his own, but Ander is going to be really lucky if he doesn’t get arrested and face charges for it. Carla clearly does not want you here, and you have only made a very difficult situation worse. It’s time for you to go.”

Tracy looks almost stunned by my words, but she takes a step backward away from Carla.

“I was only trying to help,” she says.

Turning on her heel, she walks out of the hospital. I see her pause briefly with the officers and Ander before disappearing into the parking lot.