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T racy goes directly for her teapot again when we get back into her office. She pours more into the cup that she left behind and doesn’t add anything before taking a sip. Looking over at me again, she lifts the cup to indicate it.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Thank you.”

“All right,” she says, bringing the cup over to the seating area and settling into the same spot as before. “I saw you step out of the room. Did I say something to offend you?”

It almost feels like a challenge, but I don’t let anything show on my face. I can absolutely see how this woman has gotten the reputation that she has. She’s undeniably compelling and charismatic, but there’s also something about her that doesn’t sit well with me. Other than what was said in the brief clip I watched about Terrence Brooks, I don’t know enough about her ministry or what she preaches for it to have an effect on me, but I am still bothered by the way that she talked about him. I have a feeling that other issues she takes up aren’t handled with any more of a deft hand. But there’s more to it than that. It’s the woman herself that I’m not responding to.

She has all the hallmarks of someone caring and welcoming. Offering tea alone shows that she puts importance on hospitality and knows how far such a gesture could go in earning the loyalty of the people she interacts with. But there’s an undercurrent of something in her that I can feel. Something that fuels the raving and that has obviously pushed away people who once numbered themselves among her committed employees and possibly even followers.

“I wanted to speak with the people who left the meeting,” I tell her. “Getting as many perspectives on this situation as possible will be helpful to the investigation.”

“Did they have anything interesting to say?” she asks.

“They offered me some insights,” I say. “What can you tell me about Marcus Kelsey?”

Her eyes darken slightly. “Marcus Kelsey? Why would you ask about him?”

“I heard he was fired from the ministry,” I say, purposely not answering her question.

“He was,” she says matter-of-factly. “He used to be a member of my outreach team. He was extremely committed to the ministry and one of the most, perhaps the most, fervent of my flock.”

“He was a follower,” I say.

She chuckles slightly and gives me a look that borders on chastising. “I don’t have followers,” she says. “I’m not a prophet or a cult leader. I’m just a teacher. I have people who listen to me and those who choose to follow the word I’m teaching, but they aren’t following me.”

It sounds like a brochure response, and I don’t believe it for an instant. She knows that people are following her, and that is what she wants.

“If he was so committed to you and what you teach, what happened between you two?” I ask.

“I thought that he was truly committed. I thought he believed in what I teach, in what we are trying to bring to the world as a way of fighting for the salvation of our community and all who live in it. Then I found out that he was not living up to the principles the way that he should have. He was indulging in temptations that brought him too far away from the path. He wouldn’t be honest with me about it until I confronted him with irrefutable proof, so I removed him from my circle,” she says.

“I thought there was supposed to be forgiveness and redemption,” I say. “Isn’t that a core tenant of your faith?”

Tracy goes quiet again, the same veil of control coming over her that did when Dawn spoke out. She stares at me for several long seconds before giving a slight nod.

“I can forgive without being willing to have those influences around me, and redemption only happens when someone does something to redeem themselves. I can’t have disloyal, dishonest people around me. I can’t allow the serpent into the nest, so to speak,” she finally says. “I won’t allow myself to be vulnerable to the influences that have destroyed so many.” She relaxes her face, pulling back on the intensity. “But I thought you were here to talk about Gideon Bell.”

“I am,” I tell her. “In the meeting, you said that people are trying to get you to change your schedule and not do the appearances you have planned. Even in light of Gideon’s death, you seem adamant that you aren’t going to do that.”

“I am adamant,” Tracy says. “Agent Griffin, what I do is not for the faint of heart. I don’t have the faith that I do and teach the things that I teach because they are easy. I find great joy in the truth that I carry in my heart, but that joy also comes with deep pain and sorrow as I watch the world around me fall to evil, misinformation, and darkness. I know that I’m not popular with everyone. I can’t be. If I were popular with everyone, it would mean that everyone believed as I did, knew as I did, and did what was right. And of course, that would mean there would be no need for me to teach, wouldn’t it?

“I call this a battle, a war, because that’s what it is. I’m fighting for the souls of all those in this world. It’s so easy to look at things around us that have become the norm, the mainstream, even the trendy and beloved, and think that they are good, normal, and true. It’s easy to tell ourselves that they wouldn’t exist if they weren’t supposed to, if things weren’t made that way. But that’s temptation talking. It’s evil talking. I can’t be weak in the face of that. I have to be stronger now than I ever have been. I will not turn my back on my faith and what that means.”

“Have you received any of the threatening messages yourself?” I ask.

“I receive threats all the time,” she says. “They don’t deter me.”

I give a tight smile. “Obviously not. I know Gideon spoke to you about the threats he received. Did he have any idea who might have sent them? Anything that he pointed out to you that might indicate who could be responsible?”

“He didn’t have anybody in mind that he mentioned to me,” she says. “He didn’t seem overly worried about getting them. Gideon was quiet. He didn’t make waves.”

“I need the names of the others who told you they got threatening messages,” I say. “I’m going to need to speak with them.”

Tracy reaches into her drawer and pulls out a notepad. Getting a pen from the holder on the desk in front of her, she starts writing out names.

“You are welcome to speak with Ander now if you’d like. Though there isn’t much time. I am expected at an interview in less than half an hour.”

The implication is that he will, of course, be going with her, only further underscoring the question of why, if she doesn’t want to show any fear, she insists on having a security detail. I’m sure she has a craftily spun explanation, but I don’t want to listen to any more of that right now, so I’m not going to ask. She writes down several names and hands the list over to me.

“I don’t know for sure that this is everyone. Others might have gotten them but didn’t bring them to my attention,” she says.

“Thank you for this,” I tell her, standing up. “And thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

“If you need anything else, feel free to come back,” she says.

“I will.”

I walk out of the office and stop next to Ander. I can’t help but wonder if his entire purpose is to stand beside her office all day or if he does other things.

“Tracy just told me that you are among the company employees who have gotten the threats,” I say.

He nods and finally speaks, “I have.”

“I know that you’re working right now and you’re getting ready to go with her to an interview, but I need to talk to you about the messages. Can we set up a time to do that?” I ask.

“You can come by my house tonight,” he tells me.

I hand him one of my business cards. “Text me the address and time, and I’ll be there.”

As I’m walking out into the lobby, I stop by the reception desk. The woman I’m assuming is Estelle looks up at me with another smile.

“Can I help you with something else?” she asks.

“Yes, actually,” I tell her. “I need the most recent contact information for a former employee. Marcus Kelsey. Can you access the personnel records and get that for me?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have access to that kind of information. You’d have to speak with the staffing director.”

“Where would I find them?” I ask.

“The second floor. Her name is Leslie Downing,” she tells me.

“Thank you,” I say and head for the elevator. As I’m going up, I check the list that Tracy gave me and confirm that Leslie’s name is on it.

I know the staffing director could balk at providing me contact information for Marcus Kelsey without a warrant, but I’m hoping she will understand the urgency of the investigation and give it to me. Even if she won’t, I need to talk to her about what threatening messages she has gotten. I get to the second floor and read the plaques on the offices and rooms until I find the one that has her name. I knock.

“Come in,” she calls from inside.

I open the door and see that she’s on the phone. I show her my badge, and she holds a finger up to ask me to wait a moment.

“I’m going to have to call you back and continue this another time. How is your schedule this afternoon…? Perfect. I’ll talk to you later.” She hangs up and stands to shake my hand. “Leslie Downing.”

“Agent Emma Griffin,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says. “I was in the company meeting earlier when Tracy introduced you to everybody. You’re the FBI agent investigating Gideon’s murder.”

“I am,” I tell her.

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

“I need the most recent contact information for Marcus Kelsey,” I tell her. “I spoke with Tracy about him, and I’m interested in talking with him.”

She nods and goes behind her desk. “I can get that for you. Give me just a second to pull up his personnel file.”

“Did you hire Marcus?” I ask as she types commands into her computer.

“I did,” she says. “I thought he was going to be a fantastic match for the company. He had a lot of energy and enthusiasm, and his belief system seemed to be in alignment with what Tracy teaches, which is extremely important for the position he was filling.”

“Are you familiar with why he ended up being fired?” I ask.

“No. I do the recruiting and hiring for positions that Tracy doesn’t handpick people for, but she is the one who handles firing anyone. She says since they are working for her, it’s her prerogative to be the one to determine when their usefulness to her has run its course and to have that final conversation with them.” She reaches to the corner of her desk for a bright-pink sticky notepad and picks up a pen. “Here you go. This is the last phone number and address we have for him.”

She holds the note out to me, and I take it from her.

“Thanks. I also wanted to ask you about the threats. Tracy told me that you have gotten some of them,” I say.

Leslie looks uncomfortable, her gaze dropping down to her lap briefly before she looks back at me. There’s the distinct impression she was hoping I wasn’t going to bring that up.

“Yes,” she says. “I have gotten threatening notes.”

“Do you still have them?” I ask.

“No, I threw them away after talking to Tracy about them,” she says.

“What did they say?” I ask.

“They said I was helping grow the army of the devil and I needed to quit. The other said to hire people who would overthrow Tracy or I would pay,” she says.

Leslie swallows hard, and I can see that even talking about the messages upsets her.

“Did you think they were genuine?” I ask.

“Not when I first got them. It just seemed too bizarre for something like that to happen. Especially because it wasn’t like there was a specific person or a group or anything mentioned in the notes. No one was taking credit for them or putting anything in them that made them stand out against the rest of the hate mail that comes through here just about every day. The only thing that was different was that they were coming to specific employees rather than just Tracy or the ministry in general. But now that Gideon has been murdered…”

“Are you considering quitting your position?” I ask.

Leslie suddenly straightens up, her spine going stiff and her chin lifting defiantly.

“No. I’ve been with Tracy since almost the beginning of her ministry. I’m not going to let someone take that away from me because they want to spook us,” she says.

I can see this woman is loyal to Tracy Ellis and believes what the speaker said about holding firm and not backing down. There’s no point in arguing with her. It won’t do any good.

“Please get in touch with me if you receive any other threats or anything does happen,” I tell her.

She nods, “I will.”

I hold up the sticky note as I stand. “Thank you again for this.”