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“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.
