Page 81 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“Oh Lord,” his mother said, glancing at him sheepishly. “That didn’t even occur to me.”

“You do need some sleep,” he told her kindly, but part of his brain was occupied elsewhere. “What do you mean there’s something between Hoover and Schmitt/Dwayne, whatever.”

“Well, Hoover was a used car salesman,” his mother said. “In Nebraska. But his address was the first address Schmitt listed when he was serving his time as a parolee, which he did for two years before being discharged from the system, when he promptly changed his name and the two of them—plus Hoover’s new wife, Virginia—moved to California.”

Ellery’s eyes went wide. “That’s… well, very organized,” he said. “Also it implies that Gannett Hoover and Conway Schmitt had some prior association before Schmitt went to prison.”

“But Schmitt is at least ten years older than he is,” Taylor muttered. “I keep searching for Gannett Hoover’s family, but I can’t findthem,and it appears as though the man has changed his own name, but—Jackson, do you mind?”

Ellery glanced up to see Jackson staring over his mother’s shoulder. “Lucy,” he said, “do we have a criminal profile of Conway Schmitt’s victims?”

Ellery and his mother both stared at the man, who was wearing his own sweats plus the T-shirt from last night and one of his oldest, most raggedy sweatshirts—a Sac State hoodie with frayed sleeves and a frayed hood edging and almost no ribbing left on the hem—that he’d probably put on for comfort.

“You are quieter than the cats,” Ellery’s mother said, sounding stunned, and Ellery thought that she reallyshouldgo back to bed for a few hours.

“Godzilla is quieter than Lucifer,” Jackson said dryly. “Please God, tell me there’s more coffee in the pot.”

“There should be a whole new fresh pot,” Ellery said, staring at him as—carefully avoiding everybody’s eyes—he made his way to the kitchen to pour himself his own double-sized mug of the stuff. Plus about half a cup of chocolate-caramel-flavored non-dairy creamer that Ellery would be willing to bet could also double as a substitute for formaldehyde.

“Awesome. Lucy Satan, are you looking?”

“For what?” Ellery’s mother said, sounding truly off balance.

Jackson shot her an arch glance. “Sweetheart, you have got to be on your game if you’re putting together puzzles with Ellery. He’ll logic you blind. Now that profile of Conway Schmitt’s victims. I know they’ll have sealed the identity, but do we know what they looked like? What their age range was? When hepicked them out? I know they were all choirboys, and probably white, fatherless, vulnerable….” Jackson grimaced. “There’s a definite profile for the boys sexual predators go for, but what’s their age? What’s this scumbag’s specialty?”

“Uhm….” Ellery’s mother scanned through files on her laptop. “Twelve to sixteen,” she said, and then, as though thinking, “Sixteen is a little old for most pedophiles. He prefers his victims….”

“Autonomous,” Jackson said, coming to sit next to Taylor so he could peer over her shoulder. Ellery noticed that he was still carefully avoiding eye contact, and his heart gave a big throb. Jackson was acting as though everything was normal, but he didn’tfeelthat way. “He wants the illusion that they were giving consent. I would bet,” he murmured, pulling the laptop gently from Ellery’s mother’s fingertips, “I would just bet that… yes. Here we go. His defense was that the boys initiated the affairs. That’s how he phrased it too. Affairs.” Jackson nodded and took a slurp of his coffee. “It fits, right? Books turn kids gay, these kids turnedhimgay. I would bet that his wife—”

“They divorced,” Ellery said, trying to get some control back over this narrative, which was getting uglier and more convoluted by the heartbeat.

For the first time Jackson met his eyes. “If you believe that, I’ve got some beachfront property in Kansas to sell you,” he said. “She’sin Sacramento,and he’s not far off.” Jackson made a few more clicks on the computer and turned the picture back to Ellery and Taylor. “See this? This happy little function? These people know each other. I would bet—and Lucy Satan, you’ll have to back me up on this because this isn’t my forte and I wouldn’t know where to look—but I would bet this award was cooked upbyGannett Hoover’s campaign staffexclusivelyfor Valerie Trainor’s organization. I would bet it came with a big fat monetary grant—”

“Three million dollars,” Taylor said, proving that she was awakenow,although she’d been close to sleep before Jackson had surprised them both.

“Some of that probablydoeskeep that organization running,” Jackson agreed. “Butsomeof that is laundered money. For what? What are they selling that would get them extra cash?”

“Trafficking?” Ellery asked, the word hurting his mouth. They’d worked with traffickers before, and that case had fuckedhardwith both of them.

“Mmm… no,” Jackson murmured.

“Probably not,” Taylor said at the same time. Jackson nodded to her, and she took the explanation. “From what you both have said, the children were being religiously programmed. This would be averyimpractical way to groom trafficked children. While itwouldmake them docile and subservient—to a point—it would also make them resistant to things they’d been told were perversions. And,” she murmured, “more easily broken. If you’ve just been programmed that sex isbad,it doesn’t matter who’s telling you to have it with whom, you’re not going to respond well when forced to do a one-hundred-eighty-degree pivot, particularly when your personhood is being violatedagain.”

“A bad idea all around,” Jackson agreed. “No. The kids are… well, I don’t know what they are yet. You’ve got the Stepford Dragons, whose mission is to ‘clean up’ local schools and, of course, to spread the word that the alt-right should have control of the minds of young people. And you’ve got the young people themselves, who’ve been conned from parents to be indoctrinated. As gross as it is, this smacks of… ofbeliefsomehow. It takes some solidbeliefto rip a book out of a kindergartner’s hand while you’re telling your own class full ofteenagers that they’re going to hell. There is some zealotry here, and it’s gross and disgusting, but at least it’ssincere,you know?”

Ellery and his mother both nodded, staring at him. Ellery was, as always, in a bit of awe of his reasoning, and he could see the same awe in his mother’s eyes.

“What about Gannett Hoover?” Ellery asked, not wanting to interrupt his flow but unable to put it together himself.

“Hoover and Schmitt are something else,” Jackson muttered. “They’re a sort of unholy alliance. They give money to Trainor’s causes, butthey’rein it for… well, the money,” Jackson said, sitting up straight. “Quick, Lucy—we know Hoover’s funded by a Super PAC, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “An alt-right one.”

“Do we know anybodyelsegiving his campaign money?” Jackson asked. “Any cause? Is he the NRA’s favorite camper? Big oil? Mineral rights? I mean….” Jackson frowned. “Sonora. Known for wineries, railroad museums—”

“Right-wing documentary films,” Ellery said, having pulled out his own phone.

For the first time, Jackson stared at him in surprise. “Really?”

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