Page 33 of The Girl and the Lies

“He was one of the security guards who were here during the protest. I’m investigating as many leads as I can get, and it’s no secret how against her your group is. I’m just trying to find out as much as I can,” I say.

“We didn’t have anything to do with that,” Peter says. “That’s not what we do. Where about civil unrest and making our voices heard.”

“It’s difficult to call it ‘civil unrest’ when a situation gets as violent as that protest did,” I point out. “People were seriously injured. The police had to get involved.”

“That wasn’t the intention,” Hope says. “We just wanted to speak out against what she was saying and make sure the administration knew exactly how we felt about having her on campus. That’s the focus of our organization. What happens here in our community.”

“Tracy Ellis is a disgusting person, and the things that her so-called ministry teaches are abhorrent,” Lindsey says. “But we’re not about arbitrary shows of violence. We don’t send threats to people.”

“It would be pointless to do something like that,” Peter points out. “We’re about action—taking actual, tangible steps to make a difference in our community. It doesn’t do any good to slink around in shadows when you’re trying to make a point.”

“And ultimately, our focus is on what the campus and the college can accomplish,” says Curt. “There’s only so much a student organization can do when it comes to the wider world. We just didn’t want her here. What she and her group get up to elsewhere isn’t really our concern. We have more relevant things to worry about.”

I leave the meeting convinced that the students have nothing to do with what is unfolding within the ministry. They obviously have serious qualms against Tracy Ellis and her teachings, but they seem genuinely focused on making changes on the campus and within their own community. Going after the employees of the ministry and killing a security guard because he was present at a protest wouldn’t align with that. They want to make an impact and be recognized, not send anonymous notes and commit murder with only his employment as a motive.

I get back in my car and pull out into the street. Almost immediately, I notice a car come up behind me. They pull up close to my back bumper and follow right behind me as I turn to drive away from the academic buildings of the campus and into the surrounding city. The street is more congested away from the main campus, and I keep glancing into my rearview mirror to check the car that seems to be staying far too close to my car. I turn, and it turns with me, inching closer until I’m not even able to see the front of the car.

The driver appears to be a man wearing big sunglasses and a baseball cap. I turn again, and he’s right behind me. As we approach a line of cars behind a stoplight, I see he isn’t making any moves to slow down. I stop, and he rams into the back of my car, sending me into the car in front of me and making my airbag deploy, hitting me in the face and cutting my lip.

Slightly disoriented, I sit up and see that the man has appeared beside my door. He’s glaring at me through the window, and now I recognize him. Marcus Kelsey. Taking off my seat belt, I climb out of the car to confront him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

“I know who you are,” he says. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing is taking your ass down while we wait for the police to get here,” I say.

I reach out and grab for him, but he swats my hand away, bouncing on his toes slightly as he backs up away from me. A few quick moves have him down on the ground and my hand clamping his wrists into place.

In the distance, I can already hear sirens.

“I’m going to ask you again. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snarl.

“Tracy Ellis deserves to be punished,” he says. “Everyone around her deserves to be punished. You’re on the wrong side.”

“I’m on the side of a man who was murdered in his own home,” I tell him. “But you’ve just made me even more interested in having a chat with you down at the police station.”

The emergency vehicles arrive, and I release Marcus into the custody of the police, introducing myself and letting them know that I’ll be at the station to talk to him. Then I go to the vehicle in front of me to make sure the person inside is all right. The young woman looks upset, and she’s holding her head where she apparently hit it on the steering wheel, but there are no signs of any serious injury.

“Are you okay?” I ask her. She nods. “I’m sorry. He hit me from behind.”

She nods again. “I know.”

The paramedics come up to the car, and I step aside so they can help her out.

One of them looks at me. “Let’s get that lip looked at,” he says.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

“Probably, but I’d rather clean it up for you while we’re here.”

I relent and go over to the ambulance with him. He cleans the cut and gives me an ice pack to hold against my mouth while I give the police my statement about what happened.

“You say that you’ve been in contact with him before?” the officer asks when I try to explain the series of events leading up to this situation.

“Yes,” I tell him. “I’m an FBI agent. I’m investigating a case, and his name came up as someone I should look into. I tried to get in contact with him, but he didn’t answer his phone and wasn’t at his house when I went there. He obviously heard about what I was doing and decided this was the way to make his message known. But now I am even more interested in having a talk with him about the case.”

“I’m sure you are,” the officer says. “You’ll need your car towed to the shop for repairs. But I can give you a ride to the station if you want.”

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