Page 27

I get a call from Detective Fuller as I’m driving away from the coffee shop asking me to come into the station, so I turn in that direction. As I’m driving, I call Carla.

“I just spoke with Gloria Pryor,” I tell her. “I didn’t tell her that you were the one who reported her to Tracy, but she made the assumption herself. Then she said she thought it was interesting that you would make a report like that when there was something going on in your marriage.”

“She said what?” Carla asks, sounding stunned.

“Apparently, there were rumors of a story behind why the two of you were leaving the ministry,” I tell her.

“I told you why we decided to leave,” she says. “We are moving and starting a new chapter in our lives. There’s no more story to it than that. It sounds like she’s just angry with me for talking about her to Tracy. She wants to make Marshall and me look bad.”

I pull into the police station parking lot and end the call, a prickling feeling along the back of my neck as something inside tells me that I’m starting to unravel a little more. I know I have to move faster. The looming weight of something else possibly happening is pressing down on me, reminding me with every passing hour that there are several other people who have received threats. The same horrific scene could play out again if I don’t find the person responsible and stop them.

As soon as I walk into the station and find Detective Fuller in the investigation room, I find out I was almost too late.

“A woman named Mila Taylor called dispatch about ten minutes ago reporting that someone broke into her house. She said it needed to be brought to your attention.”

“Mila Taylor is one of the employees of the ministry that received threatening notes,” I say. “I talked to her right after Gideon was murdered. Is she all right? Was she attacked?”

My heart is racing in my chest as I think of another person falling victim to an assailant who is getting bolder and leaving less time in between his strikes.

“No, she wasn’t home when it happened. Do you want her address?”

“Yes.”

I’m out the door in seconds, already driving as I program my GPS. The directions bring me to a small apartment complex not too far from the ministry headquarters. I see two police cars parked near the apartment number Fuller gave me, and I jog up to the door. I knock, and Officer Massengill answers.

“Agent Griffin,” he says. “I thought I might see you here.”

“Where is Mila?” I ask.

He lets me into the apartment, and I immediately see the stark block letters across the living room wall.

You won’t be spared again

A frightened-looking woman is sitting on the beige corduroy couch, hunched over so her stomach is pressed to her knees and her arms are wrapped around herself defensively. Officer Trammel is sitting beside her with a notepad. They both look up when I approach.

“I’m Agent Griffin,” I tell her. “We spoke on the phone.”

“They came for me,” she says.

“Tell me what happened,” I say.

“I took the day off work because I wasn’t feeling well this morning. But then I started feeling better, so when my sister called wanting me to go shopping with her, I decided to go. She picked me up. I was gone for less than three hours, and when I got back, my door had been pried open, and I saw that written on the wall,” she says.

“Who knew that you were supposed to be home today?” I ask.

“Anyone who looked at my social media,” Mila says. “I posted there this morning. Someone saw it and thought I was going to be here. They probably even saw my car in the parking lot.” She lets out a shuddering breath. “I could have been killed.”

“Is there anywhere you can stay for a few days?” I ask.

She nods. “I’ve already called my sister. I’m going to stay with her.”

“Good,” I say. “While the officers are still here, I’m going to go talk to your neighbors, but then I’ll stay with you until your sister comes.”

“Thank you.”

I leave the apartment and cross the breezeway. No one answers the door, and I move on to the one beside it. Again there is no answer. I’m about to walk away from the final door when a man comes up the steps and gives me a questioning look.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

I point at the door. “Is this your apartment?” I ask.

“It is,” he says.

“Have you been away all day?” I ask.

“Since early this morning,” he says. “Are you police?”

“FBI,” I tell him. “But you did see police cars in the parking lot. They are in that apartment.” I point to Mila’s door.

“Did something happen to Mila?” he asks.

“No, she’s safe. But there was a break-in at her apartment just a little while ago. I wasn’t able to get any answer at the other apartments on this floor. Do you know if they would be home right now?” I ask.

“I doubt it. They aren’t ever home during the day. What happened at Mila’s place? Who broke in?” he asks.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Have you seen anything unusual recently around her apartment or the building? Any cars that you didn’t recognize?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t really know a strange car from somebody’s guest,” he says. “But come to think of it, I did see someone a few days ago who I didn’t recognize. They were walking around behind the building, kind of looking around. I was up here, so I didn’t get the best look at them. It could have just as easily been someone visiting somebody in the building or maybe someone who just moved in. I just got a strange feeling from them though.”

“I know you say you didn’t get a good look at them, but is there anything about them that you can remember?” I ask.

“Their head was down, and they were wearing a hat,” he says, “but I saw some blond hair sticking out from the bottom of the hat. I didn’t see their face from the front, but I’m sure it was a man.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Going back into Mila’s apartment, I don’t see her sitting on the couch. Officer Massengill nods toward the back of the apartment.

“She’s in her bedroom getting some things together for when her sister gets here,” he says. He steps closer to me and lowers his voice, saying, “This is the same person as the others, isn’t it?”

“It looks like it,” I say. “It seems like they thought they were going to catch Mila at home, and when she wasn’t here, they issued another threat.”

Mila comes back into the room with her bags and sets them on the floor next to the door. She looks at the evidence of it being forced open and shudders.

“I called the superintendent, and he’s going to make sure the door gets fixed while I’m gone. But I don’t know if I will ever be able to feel safe here again,” she says.

It’s the exact same sentiment as Carla’s, and the words sit heavily in my chest.

The officers get another call and have to leave, but I stay with Mila for a short while longer until she gets a text saying her sister is waiting downstairs. The crew has already arrived to fix her door, so she’s able to leave without worrying that her home is just sitting open. I walk her downstairs, and her sister comes running up to throw her arms around Mila, hugging her tight.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says. “This is scaring the hell out of me.”

“Me too,” Mila admits. She steps back from her sister and looks at me. “Are you going to be at the memorial tonight?”

“What memorial?” I ask.

“Tracy is hosting a gathering tonight at the headquarters. She wants to give everybody a place to feel united and pay respects to the victims. Gideon didn’t even have a funeral, and Ander said the services for Sabrina would be out of state with her family. So we’re doing this,” she says. “It’s at five.”

“I’ll be there,” I say.

The timing of the gathering means that most of the people in attendance have come straight down from the offices to the large conference room. They’re still in work clothes, clutching their travel coffee mugs and totes, looking more like they are going to happy hour than to a memorial for two murder victims.

Large pictures of Gideon and Sabrina flank a podium at the front of the room. Several people are gathered around the pictures, huddling together as they speak in hushed tones. I notice some wiping away tears. I take my position at the back of the room. I’m here to observe. I want to see how people are reacting to the situation as it has unfolded. Mila walks in with her sister, and I nod a greeting to her.

A few minutes after I arrive, Tracy and Ander walk into the room. He stands to the side of the podium, and even from the distance, I can see the remnants of the brawl at the hospital on his face. He shifts his weight on his feet, looking around the room like he’s not sure if he’s here as security or as a grieving husband. His eyes go to the picture of Sabrina, and for an instant, his head hangs. A few people walk over to him, squeezing him on the arm and leaning their heads close to speak to him. He offers weak smiles, and I can see on his face he wishes they would leave him alone.

Tracy stands behind the podium and swings her gaze over everyone who has gathered in the room.

“Good evening, everyone,” she says. “Thank you so much for coming tonight. I know that you could have gone home after you got off work, but you chose to stay and show your solidarity with the rest of the community, and that means so much. We are coming through a very difficult week. There has been another murder. Though Sabrina Ward didn’t work for the ministry, her husband has been an integral part of my security team for several years, and I had the pleasure of meeting Sabrina on several occasions. She was a beautiful, caring woman who shone with truth and commitment. I know life will never be the same for Ander, and I ask that you be there for him as he finds his new way.

“In addition to her death, there has also been a brutal attack. You’ve already heard that Marshall Powell was assaulted in his home but mercifully survived. I can tell you, there were forces more powerful than us watching over him. Keep lifting him up in your hearts as he works toward healing.

“But even as we grapple with these unfathomable events, we can’t forget to look around us and see what else is happening right in our midst. As I’ve struggled this week to come to terms with the evil that has befallen us, I’ve also had to sit by as several members of our ministry family chose to walk away. The fear affected them so deeply they couldn’t withstand it any longer and decided to leave. I’ve also just learned that the group who had previously welcomed me to speak in a couple of days’ time has decided to cancel my appearance. They believe it could put those who come to hear me in danger and don’t want to risk anything happening.

“There is a great sense of loss surrounding us. I mourn, but I am also angry. And I ask you why I shouldn’t be. If you think that anger doesn’t have its place in this moment, then you aren’t understanding what is truly happening. Lives have been horrifically cut short, people have been cast off their paths to truth, and I have been told to stay quiet. But I won’t be silenced. For all of the victims, I will keep going. This will only make my message stronger. I will come through this, we will all come through this, more powerful than before.”