My luck held. Louis’s Audi wasn’t in the parking lot at All Saints, but Nicholas McBride’s car was.
No more running, Nicholas. The bell tolls for thee.
Temperatures had dropped fifteen degrees and a lesser man would’ve hurried from his car to the church’s office. But not I. Real men freeze.
The reception area was small and warm. A small and warm woman smiled from her desk.
“Welcome to All Saints Episcopal Church, how can I help?”
“I didn’t see Jeremy Cameron’s car. He still at home with a ruined face?” I said.
“Um,” she said, less warm. “He’s not here today, that’s true. Can I help with something?”
“Please alert Nicholas McBride. Mackenzie August is here to see him.”
“Oh,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“I don’t need no stinking appointment,” I said.
“Sir—”
“Call his office. Tell him Mackenzie is waiting and it’s going to get loud if he’s not out here in sixty seconds.”
Her hand paused above the phone. She looked a little frozen.
“Don’t call 911,” I said. “I know all those guys and they’ll be irritated with us both. Tell Nicholas please.”
She raised the phone, pressed a single button, and murmured into the receiver.
Nicholas arrived quick. He wore stylish duck boots, tight jeans, and a button-up cardigan. He had all his hair, kept shortish, going slightly gray but it added to his boyish charm. Sharp features. He didn’t venture in. Stayed near the door leading to the staff offices.
“Mr. August, I’m swamped at the moment,” he said. “If you make an appointment I can try—”
“You know who I am, Nicholas. We’re having this conversation. And it’d be better to have it privately. Agree?”
He didn’t respond. Glanced between me and the receptionist. I thought he was holding his breath.
Quietly the woman said, “Should I call the police?”
“I think,” I said, “he’d rather speak with me, and not with them. Nothing needs to be public, Nicholas, until you’re ready.”
He took a deep breath. “Come to my office then.”
I did. His desk was too large for the smallish room. In the corner a Martin guitar stood like a musical totem. His carpet was deep red and he’d chosen religious paintings on the wall to match. He sat. I sat. On the side of his neck, his pulse visibly raced.
“I know,” I said.
He swallowed. “You know what?”
“I know about Louis. About Jeremy Cameron. About you. And about other persons Louis is hurting.”
He leaned back in his swivel chair. His breathing sounded ragged and he stared at a spot on his ceiling.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. August.”
“Yeah. You do. Let me tell you what I know. I know coming forward with this stuff is almost impossible. It feels like weakness and betrayal. It’s humiliating and I don’t blame you for your reluctance. I understand why you’ve ducked me for almost two weeks. But I know the time for running and the acceptance of abuse is at an end.”
He tried not to cry. Closed his eyes. Pressed lips together. A squeak emerged anyway.
“Jeremy Cameron got the hell beat out of him. His career verges on collapse. Louis will fire him soon. But he’s still fighting. I got jumped too. Louis burgled my home. Guess what, Nicholas. You’re next, if we don’t do something.”
“I can’t…”
“The truth is, you don’t want to. Because it’ll hurt. But that’s different than can’t.”
“Fine then. I won’t.” The words came out high and tight. “He warned me. Told me you would find me. Told me you were trying to break our careers. Said I’m not allowed to discuss this with you.”
“Of course he said that.”
I set my phone on his desk. The video was cued.
“This video was taken a few days ago,” I said.
“I’ve seen it.”
“Not all of it.” I pressed play.
He didn’t move. But he watched through half-closed eyes and he listened.
On screen, Louis rampaged and threatened and stormed off. But then he came back.
“You and me, George. We had something. Something…something special.” Sounded like sum'in smeshel. “You left me. Left me! We were animals, George. Doing what our bodies told us. But inside it we found something special. How can you leave…how can you pretend it didn’t happen?”
Nicholas closed his eyes and made another squeaking noise. I wondered if he’d heard Louis use similar words before.
On the video, Louis described a couple of their nights together in graphic detail. His wine was gone and he pointed at George with the empty goblet. He used it as a lewd prop to demonstrate sexual congress and laughed at George’s discomfort.
Nicholas heard enough. He slapped at the phone until it turned off.
“I don’t want to listen to that,” he said.
“I don’t blame you.”
“Show it to the vestry. Father Louis will be fired and that’s that. You win. That’s what you’re after, correct?”
“I can’t show it.”
“Why not?” he said.
“I promised I wouldn’t.”
“But you have everything you need! Leave me out of it.”
“The man in the video, George, he’s embarrassed just like you. But he said he’ll come forward if you will.”
“Oh God.” He placed both hands over his face. “Oh God.”
“I understand the shame. But you’ve got to realize it’s a lie, Nicholas. You were preyed upon.”
“You don’t…you don’t understand,” he said. I worried he might hyperventilate.
“Maybe not. Let me guess. You want him to stop. Except some days, when you doubt yourself and you doubt everything else, maybe there are times when you don’t want him to. You don’t know why. Everything started normal. You admired him. He was wise and kind, and you became better friends. Somewhere along the way, you savored the approval and friendship so much that you pretended the growing intimacy wasn’t inappropriate. The feelings were weird but everything got jumbled and mixed together. The lines blurred between friendship and desire. It was all one big overpowering emotion and you didn’t know how to resist. And when you tried to, it was too late and you found you didn’t know how. He said he needed you. More and more, and on deeper levels. You found yourself doing things or saying things that humiliate you. But you didn’t stop. The most shocking part, you enjoyed some of it. You’re angry at how malleable you were. And now you’re stuck and broken and there’s no way out.”
His face was in his hands. His entire body seemed to be flexing and shaking.
I said, “Even now, your emotions are conflicted. You dare to hope for relief. But you’re scared. For yourself and for him. You’re angry at me, angry at Jeremy, but you know you shouldn’t be. Probably on some level you can’t grasp, angry at your wife. But it can all start to go away. Beginning today.”
“I can’t…I can’t make him stop,” he said.
“I can.”
“He’ll be ruined.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I’ll be ruined. My family…”
“Don’t count your chickens yet. We can work on that.”
“He…he has evidence that we…”
“Tell me about the evidence,” I said.
He looked up with red eyes. Raised his hands. “Nothing’s happened. Between Father Louis and me. It’s all…emotional. But there’s a trip soon and…”
“Tell me about the evidence.”
“He bought me a burner phone. Makes me text him every night before bed. He asked me to text him encouragement. Then he changed it to…texting things I liked about him. I told him I didn’t want to, but he demanded it. So I did, for weeks. Then he asked me to compliment his appearance. That’s where we are now. He writes me emails that…they aren’t…they appear to be innocent at first glance. Just innuendos. You know? But then they started getting worse and worse. I delete them. When we’re alone, he’s affectionate. But so far, nothing…he hasn’t raped me or anything, I mean.”
“Maybe not you. Chances are, you and Jeremy aren’t the first. I know of at least one more. Probably others in his wake.”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“Trust me.”
“But—”
“If we go forward with your testimony and the record of your texts and his emails, he’s toast,” I said.
“I don’t want to.”
“I understand that.”
“I have a wife. She’ll be destroyed if she reads the things I’ve said. If she sees the things he’s written to me,” said Nicholas.
“I’m no expert on marriage. But seems to me, she has a right to know. And if you want a healthy union for the rest of your life, you can’t hide it from her.”
“Is there no way to do this without me having to come forward and spill everything?”
I heaved a sigh. A long and profound and thoughtful sigh.
“I was hired to prove Jeremy Cameron is telling the truth. I have collected enough evidence to do that. Handily. Between you, Jeremy Cameron, George, George’s video, the Pink Mafia—”
“The what?”
“—I have oodles of evidence. And I could find more. Trouble is, I keep promising you guys I won’t use it.”
His smile was commiserate. “Very noble of you.”
“I’m a softy who likes a challenge.”
My phone buzzed. An incoming message. I read the note—it was encouraging. I remained calm. Would deal with it soon. Slipped the phone back into my pocket.
Nicholas said, “Father Louis is going to retire, you know. This will all go away…?”
“Good men don’t sit around and wait for evil to go away, Nicholas.”
He flinched.
I said, “You don’t have a year. You have a sinister trip with Father Louis coming up soon.”
“Maybe I could—”
“Alec Ward doesn’t have a year. He has days. Maybe less.”
“You think Father Louis took Alec Ward?” he said.
“I do.”
“No way. Trust me, Mr. August. He’s not like that.”
“He had Jeremy Cameron half killed. He hired men to attack me. Don’t defend him, Nicholas. It is unbecoming.”
“I didn’t—”
“The police have no leads. I have one, so I’m chasing it hard. And I have an idea of a way to procure evidence against Louis I can actually use,” I said.
“You do? How?”
“If you rattle someone, they make mistakes. I want to scare Louis. Spook him. See if he errs. If he does, we’ll apply enough pressure to get a confession out of him. Enough to save Alec Ward.”
Nicholas nodded. Looked unsure.
I said, “For it to work, you can’t alert Louis.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“Yes you would. You’re compromised. He has tentacles in you. But you can’t.”
“I won’t,” he said.
“Where is he?”
“It’s his personal day off. We never know where he goes. What’s your plan?”
“I’m told you two meet in the mornings for coffee.”
“Yes. Tomorrow morning, in fact.”
“Perfect. You’re going to skip the meeting. And instead go to the gym.”
His countenance fell like a chastised dog.
“Father Louis won’t like that. He gets possessive.”
“Nicholas, my boy,” I said. “I’m counting on it.”