do believe there’s a much higher level of success in support groups that help parents come to grips with their kids’ sexual orientations.”
His eyes sparked, hot and hard. “He’s just had the crap beaten out of him because of what he is. Why the hell should I accept that?”
“Because he’s just had the crap beaten out of him for being what he is. If he could have changed himself, don’t you think he would have?”
“I just want my kid to be normal. Is that so bad? They can fix anything in your head these days, between the drugs and the therapy. Why not fix this?”
“Mr. MacPherson,” she said, “what sort of counseling or drug could make you turn from a heterosexual to a homosexual?”
He looked at her, and she could see that she hadn’t reached him at all. She sighed and turned back to where Russ was finishing up with the other MacPhersons. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three business cards. “If you think of anything, even if you’re not sure it has any relationship, even if you think we already know it, give us a call.” He gestured toward the door. “I’m going to be back later, when Todd is awake. I’ll interview him. If we’re lucky, he’ll be able to identify his attackers, and all the rest of this will be moot. I’ll see you all then.” He shook hands with Mrs. MacPherson and Tim. “Thanks for all your cooperation. Reverend Fergusson, can I see you outside for a moment?”
As soon as the door to the waiting room closed behind them, they turned to each other. “What are you doing here?” Russ said.
“Why didn’t you tell them about Emil Dvorak?” Clare asked at the same time.
“I didn’t—” he began as she said, “They were—” They both took a breath.
“Why don’t you—” they both said.
Russ put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “You first. Why are you here with Todd MacPherson’s family? Do you know him?”
“I was supposed to marry his sister, Trisha MacPherson, and Kurt Engels this afternoon.”
“Ouch. That’s gotta be tough. Do they belong to your church?”
“No. I didn’t know them before I did their premarital counseling. If you want to get married in Millers Kill in a beautiful old church, your choices are St. Alban’s, First Presbyterian, or High Street Baptist. Dr. McFeely at First Presbyterian wants engaged couples to have some connection to his parish, and Reverend Inman wants to be assured they haven’t been sleeping together before the ceremony. So I do a pretty brisk business. My turn. Why didn’t you tell them this is the second episode of gay-bashing in four days?”
“Because my thinking hasn’t changed on this. I don’t want to start rumors that someone is going around attacking gays, or gay-owned businesses.”
“That is completely irresponsible! You can’t possibly believe that this is a coincidence!” Her voice rose on the last word. He took her upper arm and dragged her a few steps down the hallway, away from the waiting room.
“I don’t believe in coincidence. But starting a panic about who might or might not be next in line for a visit from the heterosexual hit men isn’t going to serve any purpose other than to scare a lot of people and give the town a bad name.”
“It could alert potential victims to take precautions. It could bring in more information to help you find the perps.” He gave her a one-sided smile. She ignored it. “It could tell people to keep their eyes on gay-owned businesses for suspicious activities. If Todd MacPherson had known there was a chance he was going to be attacked because of his sexual orientation, there’s a good chance we’d all be getting ready for a wedding right now, instead of waiting for him to get out of surgery.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.
“One,” he said, counting off on his fingers, “there wasn’t any pattern of attacks until after MacPherson was beaten up. So there wasn’t anything for him to know. Two, we’ve already briefed the
“That makes it sound like he was robbed. If people read the words
“Fine. I don’t mind scaring rich people. They already take precautions against attack.” He ticked off a third finger. “Three, like I said when we were at the inn, if word gets out that someone might be targeting gay-owned operations, it’s likely to cost the owners business. Even if there are good-hearted neighbors around to keep watch, customers are going to stay away. It’s my job to protect Millers Kill and Fort Henry and Cossayuharie. Some businesses make half their yearly income between Memorial and Labor Day. I’m not going to hurt them if I can help it.”
She leaned against the smooth, cool wall. “Now you sound like the mayor in
“If I thought I could catch who’s responsible for these attacks by closing down the town, I would. But singling out certain businesses or individuals and telling them they may be next won’t do that.”
“But you might prevent another person from being hurt!”
“Look, the take on MacPherson’s attack is going to be that a small-business owner, closing up all alone, was assaulted. There’s going to be a statement from me in the
“Is that who you think is behind this? Some rednecks from out of town, up here for a little fresh mountain air and blood sports?”
He sighed. “It could be. The timing certainly suggests so.” He pushed his hand through his hair, causing it to fall unevenly across his forehead. “If it is, it should be easier to spot the red vehicle. You can’t just garage your car and drive another one when you’re on vacation.”
“Russ, I can understand your concern about singling out businesses as potential trouble spots. And I can understand you not wanting Millers Kill to be associated with this sort of vicious behavior. But if you don’t let it be
