N is for... (Checklist Book 14) by L DuBois (best classic books TXT) 📕

“These people listened to me. Every one of them asked if I was okay, what I needed. They wanted to hear my story, and once I started talking, I wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t stop demanding that the apostle be stopped. That these strangers who had helped me help the other children too.”

“You were just a child. It shouldn’t have been up to you to prod authorities to do what was right.”

“I was a child who figured out, real fucking fast, that my words had power. That I had power.”

“It takes some of us a long time to realize that. Or to accept it once we realize it.” She raised their linked hands, kissed his knuckles.

“It, of course, wasn’t that easy. The sheriff went out there to talk to them, but they claimed I’d run away. That I was a bad seed. I refused to follow their rules, and therefore wasn’t welcome in their community—all of which was true. They said they would happily sign the paperwork making me an emancipated minor.”

“Your…your mother said that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I accepted a long time ago that her need for validation was far more important to her than caring for a child.”

“The sheriff had to know they were lying.”

“The best they could do was to charge my mother with child abandonment for kicking me out. They tried a sex crimes case, to get him for statutory rape, based on my statements.”

“Were you… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t raped, wasn’t abused in that way.”

Daniel took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“The apostle had sex with all the women and girls. The girls, children,” he stressed the word, “he raped…many were his own daughters. Some of them were also ‘married’ off to the ‘elders’ and ‘counselors’ who were the few other men he allowed to stay. Meaning they were raped by them too. My statements were enough for them to go out and question the girls, do welfare checks.”

“Let me guess, the girls said nothing was wrong.”

“Yes.”

“The sheriff would have dropped it, just because of lack of resources and time, but like I said, I wouldn’t shut up. And I had backup. The god-damn saint of a social worker who got my case. She was handed this insane, feral teenage boy, and she had my back every step of the way. Eventually we made enough noise that the local FBI office stepped in.”

“Ha, so there are feds in this story.”

“Yes, but none of them are undercover at a BDSM club.” He quirked a brow.

That made her smile, just as he’d hoped.

“There wasn’t much the feds could do, either,” he went on. “My word wasn’t enough. It was me against a whole group of adults. Which story is more reasonable—a pissed off teenager who didn’t like his strict upbringing was making shit up, or a small, almost Orthodox Church with a pure, humble image was actually a cult?”

“Honestly, it’s easier to believe they were a cult.”

“I agree, but in court, their story was more reasonable.”

This part of the story was oft repeated, the words flowing easily.

“Still, the local agents knew, and believed, something was wrong. The problem was they couldn’t prove it, and had nothing actionable but my testimony. That’s when they asked Agent Rand Salford to look at the case. He spent two days just listening as I ranted and raved. Then, he made it his mission to take them down. He started with the IRS.”

“Ah, the IRS. I get audited every year.”

“You do?” Daniel raised an eyebrow, then glanced around. “Uh, what do you do?”

“I play a game. It’s a high stakes game, that I’m very good at.” She had a sly little smile on that made him want to kiss her.

Everything made him want to kiss her.

“You’re a professional poker player,” he guessed.

“Hedge fund manager.”

“Damn. Well, that explains the view.”

“Enough about my morally gray career. The IRS got them? The cult?”

“No. What they did was open a case, which allowed them to audit the paperwork the apostle had turned in to have the cult recognized as a church.”

“And therefore tax exempt?”

“Exactly.”

“Like how they got Al Capone for tax evasion.”

He liked that she wasn’t focused on the shitty personal parts of the story. Later—months, years later, he might let that little boy out of the box at the back of his mind and tell her about some of the pain he still carried. She could be trusted with that. He knew it the way he knew that the sun would rise again tomorrow.

“Not quite,” he said, bringing his mind back to the story. “You see the IRS is really cautious about denying church status to organizations. They have to err on the side of caution.”

“But if it was a cult, couldn’t they do something?”

“What’s the difference between a church and a cult?

Autumn opened her mouth, frowned, then made a frustrated noise.

“Exactly. It’s easy when you’ve got people promising the space ships are on their way. But one of the technical definitions of a cult is a group whose beliefs and practices are regarded by others as strange.”

“Oh…That’s a problem, because how do you define ‘strange’?”

“You see the issue.”

Autumn squeezed his hands, then stood. He watched her as she walked to the kitchen, grabbed another wine stem, poured him a very full glass, and brought it over.

“If we’re discussing the technical definition of cults, we should be drinking,” she declared.

“Fair enough.” He waited for her to raise her glass, tapped it with his own, then took a sip. “I’ll cut to the chase. Usually when I give these talks, it’s to law enforcement seminars.”

“Wait, so you are a fed. Just not undercover.”

“No, not a fed. Wait until the end of the story.”

“Fine.” Autumn laced her fingers through his, using her other hand to raise her wine glass to her lips.

“The IRS investigation gave Agent Salford access to current financial records. And this is where that man’s genius really shows. You see, the church had a business selling ceramics. Handmade