Т Паркер - The Last Good Guy

“Then explain who she is, and why you want her, and why I’m in a position to help you.”

“Daley is the younger sister and the legal charge of one Penelope Rideout. Daley might be her daughter — maybe — if you’re willing to expand your field of interest to your pal Reggie Atlas. Either way, I want to return Daley to Penelope. As you know, your SNR meatballs are holding her.”

“Oh?” asked Marie.

“My reaction exactly,” said Alfred. He crossed his legs, then interlocked his finger over the top knee.

I showed the three pictures on my phone to Alfred and Marie and sat back down.

Marie frowned at her husband.

“I’m sure you’re aware that Daley is all over the Missing and Exploited Children websites,” I said.

“But we never appear in the same frame in your pictures,” he said. “I had no idea the girl was in my wife’s house. Mrs. Battle owns too many homes for me to keep track of.”

“You’re free to tell that to the fed, state, and local cops,” I said. “But these photos are still enough to get you one phone call to a lawyer.”

Battle slowly rose, turned his back on me, and walked to a south-facing window.

“If I could deliver the girl to you, you would destroy these photos and say nothing of my company’s involvement?”

“The pictures are already in the cloud, Mr. Battle. And my associates know what to do with them.”

“Have you been hired by Penelope to find Dolly and bring her back?”

“Good guess. Her name is Daley.”

“Pays well, I hope,” he said.

“Standard fee.”

“May I ask what your rates are?”

“You can ask all you want.”

A decisive silence.

“Why does Reggie Atlas want Daley?” I asked. “And why are you allowing him to see her?”

Battle turned, raising a bushy eyebrow, his hawk’s face half- illuminated. “If I tell you what I know, will you leave me and Marie and SNR out of your dealings with the police?”

“No,” I said. “Although it would dispose me in your favor.”

“To what end?”

“Probably none at all. Your ass is cooked, sir.”

“When your ass is cooked, make s’mores,” said Marie.

Alfred smiled at her, then looked at me. “I love my wife.”

“I see why.”

“You two,” said Marie.

“Ford,” said Battle, “exactly what Reggie wants with the girl was never clear to me.”

“You should have made it clear,” I said. “She’s fourteen.”

“She plays guitar in her room all day,” said Battle. “She hasn’t said one meaningful word to me. But, according to Reggie, that girl has been showing up at his church for about a year. Seeking time with him. Making herself... available. For what? Reggie fears sexual intent. This behavior is much like her sister, Penelope’s, years ago, Reggie says. But Penelope’s advances went much further. He rejected her, of course. But shortly thereafter, she suffered a psychotic break with reality — professing that Reggie had seduced and impregnated her. With a baby everybody knew was her own sister. There is some suspicion in Reggie’s mind of Penelope’s role in the death of her parents, also. There was insurance money at stake. At any rate, Penelope followed Atlas all around the country, wherever his ministry took him, hounding him, demanding money. He has paid her handsomely. Many times. Simple blackmail, effective because of the pastor’s public life and extraordinary success. Of course he’s offered a final arrangement, and a nondisclosure agreement, but it must include a confidential paternity test, which is exactly what she does not want. End of revenue stream for Penelope. Reggie is very aware that one tweet from her to #MeToo would damage his ministry immeasurably. He’s hoping Daley might be able to talk some sense to her sister. And that is what I know about Pastor Atlas’s motivations and the girl.”

Marie left the room. Alfred watched her go, his face silhouetted in the lamplight.

“Your men took Daley,” I said.

Battle looked out a darkened window and said nothing.

“Let me refresh your memory,” I said. “SNR Security men took her away from her boyfriend’s condo in Encinitas. They executed him in bed. I was the one who found him. Nick Moreno.”

“Mud,” said the old man. “Consorting with white. Abomination. I know from experience.”

Battle gave me a flat stare. I wondered if what Marie had said about a childhood rape was true. Or if she had only been on one of her flights of fancy, making s’mores.

“Here’s what I think,” I said. “You’ve known Atlas for years. Like-minded individuals. So you knew his story about crazed Penelope and her sister. Which started ringing false when he took a personal interest in Daley, not the other way around. He offered donations to the White Power Hour if SNR could bring Daley to him. Not a tough assignment, really, for your boys. She even went along for the ride, at first. Literally. A rebellious girl, coming into her own. Eager to get away from her controlling sister. Then your fund-raiser’s light went on — why give Reggie what he wants until you’ve made him pay even more? Keep Daley and raise her price. So Atlas remains your revenue stream, but you have to let him see her once in a while. Proof of life. Like today at Cotton Point.”

Battle beheld me in the half-light. “We always need funding. And note, the girl has never been in danger. She has always been free to go. My men are upright, moral, and trustworthy.”

“Nick Moreno might disagree. And every time Daley slips her leash, your men grab her again.”

“They are protecting her from herself.”

Marie came back with three glasses of milk on a round tray. Three coasters and three cloth napkins. I set mine on the glass coffee table before me. Alfred sat again, pushed the napkin between his buttoned collar and his wattled neck, then took his glass with an appreciative nod. Marie returned to the far end of the sofa.

“What happened today when Atlas came to Cotton Point?” I asked.

“Happened?”

“As in, what did you do?”

“We socialized as adults. Sat in the living room and talked about current events. Sports, too, of course. Exchanged ideas. One of my SNR employees, Adam, is an excellent cook. Today was broiled ahi, asparagus, and Tater Tots.”

“Was Atlas alone with Daley?”

“I don’t allow it,” said Battle. “I’m not sure I trust him.”

“You all talked and had lunch?” I asked.

“And Pastor Atlas led us in prayer. That is the absolute truth.”

“How did he behave toward Daley?” I asked.

“He was formal. Per usual. He told her once again that he only needs to satisfy some final obligations, and she’ll be free to go with him. They sat well apart from each other. But often, he looked at her with an affection — an adoration, I’d say — that was downright embarrassing to everyone in the room but him. Not the first time.”

I weighed what I knew about spirited Daley Rideout against this strange account. “How did she react?”

“She seems both repelled by and drawn to him,” said Battle. “A girl, then not a girl. They are very similar, psychologically. Like magnets. With their polarities opposed, they attract. But when aligned, they repel.”

“As men and women always do,” said Marie. She smiled, drank some milk, dabbed her lips.

This alleged afternoon at Cotton Point was hard for me to picture. The hatemonger, the preacher, the gunmen, and the girl. A storm of crosscurrents, most of them vile.

“Have you ever talked to Penelope?” I asked.

Battle shook his head, sipped his milk, and waited.

“I have,” I said. “Let me give you something to think about. Penelope told me something. It was difficult for her, and I have no good reason to disbelieve her. She’s known Reggie Atlas since she was eight. With her family, she attended his services and guest appearances. He was building his congregation. Six years. During which time he developed a faith-based relationship with her mom and dad, and especially with Penelope herself. It included one-on-one conversations, phone calls, emails, and an occasional postcard from Reggie’s itinerant preaching. Over the years he convinced her that their relationship was special in the eyes of Jesus. Sacred. She wholeheartedly agreed. When she was fourteen and a virgin, he invited her into his travel bus, where he baptized, seduced, drugged, and raped her. The morning-after pills failed. Daley was born nine months later. Atlas has been keeping track of her and his daughter ever since. Penelope hasn’t been shaking him down for money. She’s been trying to keep his daughter away from him. Fearing that he will repeat himself with her.”