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question. He didn’t. If his first answer was a lie, but the second was true, then moral misconduct sat big and broad in the equation somewhere. I’d gotten my answer from his silence.
    “Your dad also says that you’ve been instrumental in expanding your ministry into Latin America. Do you think the threat comes from there?”
    James shook his head. “I really don’t think so. Our membership there doesn’t care much about the competition between churches in the US. On top of that, our presence in Latin America extends back only a few years, probably no more than about 2002. Long after my experiences as a teenager.”
    “Do you think they would know about those experiences?”
    “Certainly. It’s a story worth repeating as often as possible.” He gave me a smile radiant with the Gospel’s glory, but his aura swirled up dark and angry. “My personal salvation is a testament to my father's faith, and the invincible power of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
    “I’m glad for you.” I wanted to sound sincere, but I don’t think I made it. “Has any spark of that old temptation ever presented itself since those days?”
    “No, thank the Lord.” His lie spiked out, even bigger than the others. James sighed a deep breath and gazed out the window, as if savoring his God-given liberation for the first time. Poor guy. What kind of hell was he living in, pretending the hand of God had fixed him, living a straight man’s life?
    “Were the methods of your therapy harsh? I’ve heard they often are.”
    Richardson’s aura boiled up with pain, grief, and rage, but his face remained an angelic mask. “I don’t have to answer that, but I will. Yes, they were harsh. But they were warranted. My very soul was at stake.” He paused, his eyes opaque with the flat stare of a bouncer. “And that’s a closed chapter you and I will not be visiting.”
    I nodded. “Got it,” I said, making my note. “Is there any other light you can shine on this business right now?”
    “Not at the moment.” To my amazement, he was telling the truth. He knew a lot about this, but he couldn’t shed light on it now. James Richardson was in this up to his neck. But how? Why?
    I leaned forward, caught his eye and held it for a few heartbeats. I wanted him to know that I knew he knew something else. I pulled out one of my cards and offered it to him. As he took it I said, “In case anything else comes to you, I’d really appreciate a call. I promise not to badger you or anyone in your family. I’m just trying to solve this.”
    “I will do that, Mr. Morgan,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Something else may come to mind, and if it does, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He pulled out one of his cards and wrote on the back before he gave it to me.
    I must have looked as surprised as I actually was, because he gave me a little smile, aura welling up in sadness. “My cell. In case you think of other questions for me,” he said.
    “Thanks,” I said, tucking the card in my shirt pocket, pretending I didn’t understand the gesture was a significant invitation, maybe even a request. We shook hands. I tried not to wince. James Richardson was a man in serious pain, and some of it burned in my knuckles. We headed down the hall.
    Colin appeared before we’d taken half a dozen steps, steering Richardson away on some vector that didn’t include me.
    I headed on to the elevator.
    As I walked down the 16th Street Mall, I called Rocky Mountain Mercury and set up an appointment with the dispatcher in an hour. It was Friday afternoon, and they were already slowing down. I gave them the document number so they could be ready. I promised to be in and out in just a few minutes.
    * * * *
    The dispatcher at Rocky Mountain didn’t hand me a case-solver, but I did get a couple of interesting pieces of information.
    Delivery of the fourth letter had been charged to the account of Stelnach, Kommen and Breyer. It had been picked up at the front desk, only to