Page 62 of The Girl and the Lies

“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.”

Listening to Tracy Ellis speak, for the first time I feel like I may believe in something that she’s saying. She’s right. Now is the time to feel angry. She might be thinking largely of herself and the impact this is having on her ministry, an impact that goes against what she initially thought it was going to do for her, but the sentiment is there. People are nodding their heads, expressing their own fury at the brutality and torment being doled out around them with seemingly nothing they can do about it.

Those who have been on the receiving end of the threats look afraid, wondering if they’re going to be next. Those who didn’t get the notes are on edge, waiting for the next horror to come. They’re grappling with whether to stay at their jobs, wondering what is going to come of the company they’ve devoted themselves to. The energy in the room is heavy but tingling, full of tightly wound anticipation that feels ready to snap again at any second.

Tracy finishes talking and steps down from the podium so she can mill around among the people gathered in the room. I make my way over to Ander. Another employee is standing with him, offering his condolences, and Ander thanks him, patting him on the shoulder as he walks away before turning his attention to me.

“How are you doing, Ander?” I ask.

“You know, I don’t even know how to answer that question anymore,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not your fault. I just honestly don’t know how I’m doing. It feels like maybe the big reality of it all hasn’t actually hit me yet. Going back to work so fast and everything, I haven’t taken the time to just sit with it and realize what it means. There have been a couple of times when I’ve checked my phone to see if she’s texted me or I’ve thought to call her and see what we’re having for dinner. Just those little things that you do a hundred times a day and don’t think about.”

“I know what you mean,” I say.

“I know it’s going to all come down on me eventually. I’m just waiting for that moment to come. I decided to go back to the house. It was good to stay with Mom for a couple of days, but I can’t hide forever,” he says. “A couple of friends got things cleaned up for me, so I didn’t have to face any of that when I got back.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I say. I point to his bruised face. “How is all that feeling?”

He touches his fingertips to the injuries. “Not too bad. It looks worse than it is.”

“Ander?” Tracy calls from across the room.

“Excuse me,” he says.

I watch him walk toward her and notice a slight hitch in his step like he’s stiff and sore. Mila comes over to me as I’m starting to walk toward the exit, deciding to leave them to their memorial without my interference.

“Hi, Mila,” I say. “How are you?”

It’s not as loaded a question as it was when I asked Ander, but it still hangs in the air between us.

She nods and gives a half shrug. “Still shaken up, but I’m feeling better. It’s going to be good to be with my sister for a couple of days so I don’t have to feel completely freaked out all the time.”

“I think she should just move in with me,” her sister says, looking at Mila through the side of her eyes. “She doesn’t need to go back there and feel like she’s not safe in her own home.”

“I have to go back eventually,” Mila says.

“No, you don’t. You’re never going to be able to walk into that place and not think about what you felt like when you saw the door broken and the message written on the wall. It’s always going to be there for you, and I don’t want you to have to face it. You should just stay with me and find a new apartment when you’re ready.”

“Maybe I will,” Mila says. She looks back at me. “I wanted to know if you found out anything else. I know you talked to some neighbors and stuff. Did anyone see anything?”

“I actually only got a chance to talk to one of your neighbors. The other two on the floor weren’t home. But your next-door neighbor got there while I was at his door. He told me that he saw someone he didn’t recognize walking around the back of the building a few days ago. He didn’t get a good look at them, but he said it was a man with long blond hair wearing a baseball cap. Did you see anyone like that?” I ask.

She purses her lips as she thinks. “I didn’t see anybody behind the building, but I did see someone driving really slowly past the building a couple of times. I noticed it because I was out getting the mail. The box is at the end of the block, so I was seeing it from a distance. I watched them go by really slowly and look like they were pulling out of the complex, then come back around and drive by again. I didn’t really think much of it because it looked like someone who was lost and just couldn’t find the right building, but now it seems strange.”

“Can you describe the car?” I ask.

“I don’t really know anything about cars, so I can’t give you a make or model or anything. It was dark blue. Not a truck or van. Just a normal-sized car. Not in great condition, looked older,” she says.

That sounds very familiar.

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