Chapter Eight
Ruthie took her older sister by her arm, quickly dragged her into the walk- in closet, slammed the door and turned on the light.
"Excuse me?" she said. "You and Chandler had sex?"
Lucy bit her lip, and then nodded. Obviously this was not something she was proud of, but she couldn't hold it any longer.
"What happened?" demanded Ruthie.
"Chandler and Roxanne invited us over for dinner at the deacon's residence at Crawford, but at the last minute she and Kevin got called in for SWAT duty. So it was just Chandler and me, talking shop. Our conversation somehow got into the subject of 'intelligent design.'"
"You mean the crap the anti-evolutionists have come up with in the last few years?" snorted Ruthie. "You can't give a scientific basis for creation science, because it isn't science at all! Intelligent design is just a way of repackaging creationism. You don't have to fill me in on the details of how it's supposed to work, because Peter and I did a project in biology debunking the whole thing. For what it's worth, most mainline churches – even ours – accept the fact that evolution is a perfectly acceptable explanation for the biblical story of Creation in Genesis."
"I agree," said Lucy, "as does Mom and Dad. But you can imagine my amazement when Chandler said he looked at the research and bought it completely. I tried to fire back anything and everything I could think of to make him talk sense, to realize that intelligent design could be as implausible as Darwinism. That there might be no answer at all – that it's one of God's great mysteries. What started as point counterpoint turned into a shouting match. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I said I had enough, slapped him in the face, and turned to leave."
"You hit him?" Ruthie was surprised. "That doesn't sound like you."
"No, it doesn't," agreed Lucy. "But as I finished turning and grabbed my purse, he grabbed my arm. I hit him again to try to make him let me go. But at that very moment, we locked eyes with each other. Two seconds later, I jumped into his arms and was all over him, necking him like crazy. He ripped off my blouse and skirt, I attacked his clothes, and in less than a minute we were having sex on his dining room table. It was like all the tension that had been building up between us for years just – poured out."
"You do realize you were cheating on Kevin."
"I know, but truth is he and I haven't had sex in months. The passion's been gone almost since – I don't know, Christmas. We've been spending time together, but that's it; just tolerating each other's existence."
"Not to mention that you're still jealous of Roxanne," added Ruthie.
"Yeah, that too. A couple of nights back, when he was musing about what a great job that Roxanne had done, again, I just lashed out and told Kevin if he liked her so much, he could have her!"
"You didn't."
"I did."
"Are you and Kevin breaking up?"
"No," said Lucy. "I'm going to tell him the truth when I get back and try to work things out with him. But I'm also going to have to explain myself to the deacons. I'm probably going to have to plead with them not to fire me, but then again Dad taught me a lot of pointers on how to deal with the church politics."
"I presume that's not the only reason why you and Michaels are here," said Ruthie, after a long pause.
"No," said Lucy. "I've got a hunch as to who might be behind these killings and attempts. Michaels and Peter are going over it right now, too."
"What's your theory?" asked Ruthie, intrigued.
"Remember the time when the car I fixed for Matt got stolen by a pregnant girl, and when our parents tracked down her parents, they promptly disowned her?"
"That was pathetic. That girl – Theresa, was that her name – well, she needed help, and they were denying their own grandchild!"
"Well, I've done my homework, and they belong to a, shall we say, very radical Puritanical group that hounds anyone and everyone for the slightest faux pas they may have committed in the past. They stop at nothing to find any skeletons in the closet of anyone running for office or applying for a job."
"What does have to do with these murders?"
"Kevin, Roxanne and I have reason to believe they're committing them."
"What proof do you have, other than the fact they have an axe to grind against us?" Ruthie asked. "If you're wrong, you'll have some 'splainin' to do."
"That's exactly why they're doing it, or at least that's what we think." Lucy shrugged. "See, they can't stand the fact that our family – the Camdens – is committed to helping the community. They, and people like them, think that there are some sins that can't be forgiven, by humans or by God. We ministers who have nothing but contempt for the more radical televangelists and their followers, like Theresa's parents, have a name for them. Well, a bunch of names, including hypocrites and jerks.
"Personally, I have my own name for them – the 'Selective Salvationists.' That is, salvation is a free gift from God to whomever accepts it as divine grace; but if you've had premarital sex, are gay, lesbian or transgender, have committed a serious crime, or make friends with Muslims – just to name a few things – you can't be saved, no matter what. Moreover, if you associate with people like that, you lose your salvation."
"I don't approve of people like that," said Ruthie, "any more than you do. As Dad once told Simon, narrow minded people are in point of fact cultists, isolating themselves from the community. We embrace all people even if we don't agree with them or condone their behavior."
"Precisely," said Lucy.
"So why kill those poor people on their honeymoon?"
"It's perfect," said Lucy. "Bludgeon them in their moment of happiness, and intimidate both you and Peter."
"Just a minute," said Ruthie in exasperation, waving her hand. "What did Rod and Shelby do to deserve being attacked? At least, in Theresa's parents' view?"
"Just the fact we helped them out at some point in time. Oh, and of course, the fact Rod was mad at his father when his mother died, and Shelby because she was hungry."
"That's nuts!" Ruthie said. "Rod had every right to be mad at his father for not taking care of his wife – leaving him to do it all. As for Shelby, hunger is not a sin. So what if her mother was unemployed?"
"In the minds of people like that," said Lucy, "it is a sin. 'Work ethic,' my ass. I think the Bible made it rather clear that to get into heaven, we have to help others in need."
"But Jake and Suzanne? Laurie and Paul? What did they do to deserve getting killed?"
"Just the fact we helped all of them," said Lucy. "I know, it's crazy. Why not go after Mom and Dad, or Kevin and me? Not to boast or anything, but we've done so much more to help them and other members of the community. That's not to say you and Peter have done a lot; you have."
Ruthie mulled this over. Then a thought cropped into her mind.
"Are your suspects any relation to Frank Henderson?"
"Not that we've been able to find out," said Lucy. "Even if they were, they've done a good job covering their tracks. They never spend a night in the same place. And they're too smart to do these themselves; they're probably using friends of theirs in the 'movement' to do the dirty work."
There was a knock on the closet door.
"Are you finished, ladies?" asked Michaels. "Peter and I have to go over some things with you."
The door swung open. Ruthie and Lucy walked out.
"So I presume you've been told everything, Peter," said Ruthie to her husband. "Yeah," he told his wife. "But I told the cop here to look into something."
"What's that?"
"I don't think Theresa's parents would be dumb enough to just send e-mails to their hit people here in Hawaii," said Peter. "I think they're sharing a web-based account – Yahoo, MSN or AIM – with someone here and just leaving messages, in code, in draft folders so they can be read later on. That's how James Kopp, the abortion sniper, was able to stay on the run for so long and how they eventually got him."
"They wouldn't use their names on the account," said Lucy.
"But they might be using Theresa's, as a veneer; so they could pin the blame on her."
"We have to get in touch with her!" exclaimed Ruthie.
"Way ahead of you, Ruthie," said Michaels. "She's a cop, too – in fact, she works in the enforcement division of the EPA. We, and the 5-0 here, told the EPA what we think's going on. They've been after Theresa's parents, too, for some environmental violations – spilling bulk oil into a lake, I think it is. But when we do get enough evidence to link them to these crimes, the EPA will second her to go in and make the arrest herself."
"She – arrest her own parents?" Ruthie chuckled. "That will be sweet justice."
"For now, we're moving the two of you to a safe location on the island. Can't tell you where it is till we get there."
"And Lucy?" wondered Peter.
"Well," said Lucy, "I'm kind of familiar with computer code, so I'm going downtown to help the cops go through the draft e-mails on which the FBI has put a tap. Because, even though they might be routed through a mainframe, we can get the IP address narrowing the location from which they're coming. If we do that, we can get a location both on our suspects, and those helping them."
"Please be careful," said Ruthie. "We can't afford to lose you, too."
"Don't worry, I will be," said Lucy.
Ruthie and Peter gathered their bags, reluctantly. When they reached the car to take them to their new hotel, they realized it was pointed towards the airport.
"What's this all about?" asked Peter.
"You're going to spend a couple of nights in Maui," said the undercover officer. "You'll be under constant guard, and under assumed names to ensure your protection. So have a happy honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Alcatraz."
"Alcatraz?" asked Peter.
"I was conceived there," said Ruthie. "Remember?"
Ruthie took her older sister by her arm, quickly dragged her into the walk- in closet, slammed the door and turned on the light.
"Excuse me?" she said. "You and Chandler had sex?"
Lucy bit her lip, and then nodded. Obviously this was not something she was proud of, but she couldn't hold it any longer.
"What happened?" demanded Ruthie.
"Chandler and Roxanne invited us over for dinner at the deacon's residence at Crawford, but at the last minute she and Kevin got called in for SWAT duty. So it was just Chandler and me, talking shop. Our conversation somehow got into the subject of 'intelligent design.'"
"You mean the crap the anti-evolutionists have come up with in the last few years?" snorted Ruthie. "You can't give a scientific basis for creation science, because it isn't science at all! Intelligent design is just a way of repackaging creationism. You don't have to fill me in on the details of how it's supposed to work, because Peter and I did a project in biology debunking the whole thing. For what it's worth, most mainline churches – even ours – accept the fact that evolution is a perfectly acceptable explanation for the biblical story of Creation in Genesis."
"I agree," said Lucy, "as does Mom and Dad. But you can imagine my amazement when Chandler said he looked at the research and bought it completely. I tried to fire back anything and everything I could think of to make him talk sense, to realize that intelligent design could be as implausible as Darwinism. That there might be no answer at all – that it's one of God's great mysteries. What started as point counterpoint turned into a shouting match. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I said I had enough, slapped him in the face, and turned to leave."
"You hit him?" Ruthie was surprised. "That doesn't sound like you."
"No, it doesn't," agreed Lucy. "But as I finished turning and grabbed my purse, he grabbed my arm. I hit him again to try to make him let me go. But at that very moment, we locked eyes with each other. Two seconds later, I jumped into his arms and was all over him, necking him like crazy. He ripped off my blouse and skirt, I attacked his clothes, and in less than a minute we were having sex on his dining room table. It was like all the tension that had been building up between us for years just – poured out."
"You do realize you were cheating on Kevin."
"I know, but truth is he and I haven't had sex in months. The passion's been gone almost since – I don't know, Christmas. We've been spending time together, but that's it; just tolerating each other's existence."
"Not to mention that you're still jealous of Roxanne," added Ruthie.
"Yeah, that too. A couple of nights back, when he was musing about what a great job that Roxanne had done, again, I just lashed out and told Kevin if he liked her so much, he could have her!"
"You didn't."
"I did."
"Are you and Kevin breaking up?"
"No," said Lucy. "I'm going to tell him the truth when I get back and try to work things out with him. But I'm also going to have to explain myself to the deacons. I'm probably going to have to plead with them not to fire me, but then again Dad taught me a lot of pointers on how to deal with the church politics."
"I presume that's not the only reason why you and Michaels are here," said Ruthie, after a long pause.
"No," said Lucy. "I've got a hunch as to who might be behind these killings and attempts. Michaels and Peter are going over it right now, too."
"What's your theory?" asked Ruthie, intrigued.
"Remember the time when the car I fixed for Matt got stolen by a pregnant girl, and when our parents tracked down her parents, they promptly disowned her?"
"That was pathetic. That girl – Theresa, was that her name – well, she needed help, and they were denying their own grandchild!"
"Well, I've done my homework, and they belong to a, shall we say, very radical Puritanical group that hounds anyone and everyone for the slightest faux pas they may have committed in the past. They stop at nothing to find any skeletons in the closet of anyone running for office or applying for a job."
"What does have to do with these murders?"
"Kevin, Roxanne and I have reason to believe they're committing them."
"What proof do you have, other than the fact they have an axe to grind against us?" Ruthie asked. "If you're wrong, you'll have some 'splainin' to do."
"That's exactly why they're doing it, or at least that's what we think." Lucy shrugged. "See, they can't stand the fact that our family – the Camdens – is committed to helping the community. They, and people like them, think that there are some sins that can't be forgiven, by humans or by God. We ministers who have nothing but contempt for the more radical televangelists and their followers, like Theresa's parents, have a name for them. Well, a bunch of names, including hypocrites and jerks.
"Personally, I have my own name for them – the 'Selective Salvationists.' That is, salvation is a free gift from God to whomever accepts it as divine grace; but if you've had premarital sex, are gay, lesbian or transgender, have committed a serious crime, or make friends with Muslims – just to name a few things – you can't be saved, no matter what. Moreover, if you associate with people like that, you lose your salvation."
"I don't approve of people like that," said Ruthie, "any more than you do. As Dad once told Simon, narrow minded people are in point of fact cultists, isolating themselves from the community. We embrace all people even if we don't agree with them or condone their behavior."
"Precisely," said Lucy.
"So why kill those poor people on their honeymoon?"
"It's perfect," said Lucy. "Bludgeon them in their moment of happiness, and intimidate both you and Peter."
"Just a minute," said Ruthie in exasperation, waving her hand. "What did Rod and Shelby do to deserve being attacked? At least, in Theresa's parents' view?"
"Just the fact we helped them out at some point in time. Oh, and of course, the fact Rod was mad at his father when his mother died, and Shelby because she was hungry."
"That's nuts!" Ruthie said. "Rod had every right to be mad at his father for not taking care of his wife – leaving him to do it all. As for Shelby, hunger is not a sin. So what if her mother was unemployed?"
"In the minds of people like that," said Lucy, "it is a sin. 'Work ethic,' my ass. I think the Bible made it rather clear that to get into heaven, we have to help others in need."
"But Jake and Suzanne? Laurie and Paul? What did they do to deserve getting killed?"
"Just the fact we helped all of them," said Lucy. "I know, it's crazy. Why not go after Mom and Dad, or Kevin and me? Not to boast or anything, but we've done so much more to help them and other members of the community. That's not to say you and Peter have done a lot; you have."
Ruthie mulled this over. Then a thought cropped into her mind.
"Are your suspects any relation to Frank Henderson?"
"Not that we've been able to find out," said Lucy. "Even if they were, they've done a good job covering their tracks. They never spend a night in the same place. And they're too smart to do these themselves; they're probably using friends of theirs in the 'movement' to do the dirty work."
There was a knock on the closet door.
"Are you finished, ladies?" asked Michaels. "Peter and I have to go over some things with you."
The door swung open. Ruthie and Lucy walked out.
"So I presume you've been told everything, Peter," said Ruthie to her husband. "Yeah," he told his wife. "But I told the cop here to look into something."
"What's that?"
"I don't think Theresa's parents would be dumb enough to just send e-mails to their hit people here in Hawaii," said Peter. "I think they're sharing a web-based account – Yahoo, MSN or AIM – with someone here and just leaving messages, in code, in draft folders so they can be read later on. That's how James Kopp, the abortion sniper, was able to stay on the run for so long and how they eventually got him."
"They wouldn't use their names on the account," said Lucy.
"But they might be using Theresa's, as a veneer; so they could pin the blame on her."
"We have to get in touch with her!" exclaimed Ruthie.
"Way ahead of you, Ruthie," said Michaels. "She's a cop, too – in fact, she works in the enforcement division of the EPA. We, and the 5-0 here, told the EPA what we think's going on. They've been after Theresa's parents, too, for some environmental violations – spilling bulk oil into a lake, I think it is. But when we do get enough evidence to link them to these crimes, the EPA will second her to go in and make the arrest herself."
"She – arrest her own parents?" Ruthie chuckled. "That will be sweet justice."
"For now, we're moving the two of you to a safe location on the island. Can't tell you where it is till we get there."
"And Lucy?" wondered Peter.
"Well," said Lucy, "I'm kind of familiar with computer code, so I'm going downtown to help the cops go through the draft e-mails on which the FBI has put a tap. Because, even though they might be routed through a mainframe, we can get the IP address narrowing the location from which they're coming. If we do that, we can get a location both on our suspects, and those helping them."
"Please be careful," said Ruthie. "We can't afford to lose you, too."
"Don't worry, I will be," said Lucy.
Ruthie and Peter gathered their bags, reluctantly. When they reached the car to take them to their new hotel, they realized it was pointed towards the airport.
"What's this all about?" asked Peter.
"You're going to spend a couple of nights in Maui," said the undercover officer. "You'll be under constant guard, and under assumed names to ensure your protection. So have a happy honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Alcatraz."
"Alcatraz?" asked Peter.
"I was conceived there," said Ruthie. "Remember?"