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“Excuse me,” he said.
As he walked away, he heard Owen say to Violet, “Was that foreboding display necessary, Violet? Sometimes you don’t think.”
“All I do is think, Owen, and it’s a big part of the reason we catch these killers.” No braggadocios in her voice. Simply facts.
Once Ty was out of earshot, he texted Selah for the number. Didn’t even have it anymore. Had never wanted it again. Had no intention of ever hearing that low, thundering voice.
Selah returned his text with a shamrock emoji next to the word good and the number.
With a trembling finger, he pressed the number and let it ring.
Once...twice...
“Rand Granger,” his father’s voice said, transporting Ty back seventeen years. He’d been the favorite who could do no wrong. The only son to bear the Prophet’s middle name.
Did he call him Father or Rand?
“It’s Tiberius.” He decided to let Father take the lead on the titles and position.
Silence stretched like a taut rope awaiting a fool to test it over an abyss.
“Tiberius,” he said softly. “What can I do for you?” No son. No Agent. Did he even know he was a special agent with the FBI? Ty had been on the national news, which Father watched. Only leadership were allowed TV privileges. Other members were barred from watching propaganda and wickedness that would rot their souls.
“I’m with the FBI now. We’re investigating three murders in the Outer Banks and missing women who potentially connect.”
“Yes, I heard that. Saw the press coverage.”
Rand had watched him on TV. Did he have any positive thoughts about him? Should it matter? It sickened Ty to realize he still clung to the hope his father would approve of him—this vile man. “We have evidence that leads us to believe it might be a former member of the Family of Glory. I wanted to ask if you’d be courteous and send us a list of members who have left or been disfellowshipped within the past ten years.”
A hissing of breath releasing filtered across the line. “Our Family has enough false rumors circulating. I do not want a serial killer getting any kind of connection to us in the press. Besides, it’s highly unlikely.”
“Anyone who may have been disfellowshipped for deflowering a young woman? Can you at least tell me that?”
“Other than you, Ty?” His accusation landed with a one-two punch to the kidney.
He swallowed the jagged pill. “Besides me. Garrick hasn’t left in the past year, has he?”
“Of course not. He’s taking my Office when I go to rest in peace. But these days, I’m believing I may live to the millennium.”
Ty rolled his eyes.
“And to insinuate that the Lord’s anointed would have anything to do with murder—”
“I want a list, Rand.” This man fathered him but he was no father, and Ty would never call him by that term again. “That’s all.”
“Well, you can’t have one without a warrant. Good day, Agent.” The line went dead. He white-knuckled the phone, knowing this was the projected outcome but irritated anyway. Nothing had changed.
He returned to the scene and relayed the phone call with the team.
Asa frowned. “For now, Ty and I will go to the morgue with the medical examiner,” Asa said. “You good to fly out?”
Ty nodded.
“Violet, you and Owen follow up here.”
“We’ll make sure no one gets through the tape,” Deputy Dorn said.
“Thanks.” Asa motioned Ty to follow him.
