“I am Father Daniel LaFrada,” Dom said, invoking the name of a seminary friend who had passed away a few months ago. “I need to speak with you if you have a few moments.”
“I’m not Catholic,” Georgen said.
“It’s about your son, sir,” Dom said. “Bill.”
A woman materialized out of nowhere to join the man. This was Tammy Georgen, Bill’s mother, and she wore a bathrobe over a nightgown. “Is Billy all right?” she asked. Judging from her perfectly coiffed big hair, she hadn’t yet lain her head on a pillow. “Is he hurt?”
The question meant that the boy wasn’t home, and that brought a sense of relief. “We need to talk,” Dom said.
“Is he hurt?” Georgen asked, building on his wife’s budding panic.
Dom kept his face noncommittal. “May I come in, please?”
Husband and wife searched each other for an objection, and then stepped aside to let him in. The house wasn’t large, but it was well-appointed. Lots of polished hardwoods, granite, and original oil paintings. Dom led the way to what he supposed they called their family room, where a beamed cathedral ceiling towered over a leather conversation group that was designed to give maximum viewing efficiency for the enormous flat-screen television that was mounted over the wood-burning fireplace.
“Please answer our question, Father,” Georgen said, pulling up the rear of the small parade that landed on opposite ends of the curved sofa.
“For now, the answer is yes. Bill is fine.”
“What do you mean, for now?” Tammy was wrapped tighter than a watch spring.
Dom took his time, both for dramatic effect and to gather his thoughts. “The way it was put to me, Mrs. Georgen, was, What goes around, comes around.”
Tammy recoiled while Georgen blanched. “What does that mean?” Tammy asked. She looked to her husband. “Eric?”
“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Georgen said, but everything about his demeanor screamed that he was lying.
Dom turned to Tammy. “Have you seen or spoken to Rachel Wagner recently?”
“Tristan’s mom? No, why? What does she have to do with Billy?”
Georgen squirmed.
“Tristan and Bill were supposed to go on a missionary trip together, weren’t they?”
“No,” Tammy said. “Well, yes and then no. Eric decided that Mexico was too dangerous a place to go right now. You know, with the drug violence and all. We told the church that he wouldn’t be going. I don’t understand what any of this has to do with you.”
Dom shifted his gaze to the husband. “How about you, Eric? Do you see any connection here?” Agent Boersky had made it abundantly clear that the words needed to come directly from Georgen in order for them to be useful in court.
“Of course not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tammy saw it, too. “Eric, what’s going on here?”
“The Wagners know, Eric,” Dom lied. “They know the details, and they’ve vowed to make it right.”
Tammy reached for her husband’s hand, but he flinched and pulled it away. “What’s Father talking about?”
Georgen shot to his feet and towered over Dom. “Get out of my house,” he said.
“I don’t think I will,” Dom replied. “The name Abrams mean anything to you, Mr. Georgen?”
Even more color drained from the man’s face.
“You know that they’re all dead, don’t you?” Dom said.
“Who’s dead?” Tammy said. “Oh, my God, Father, what is going on?”
Georgen sat heavily onto the sofa. “That’s not possible. They swore.”
Tammy brought both hands to her mouth as realization dawned that something truly awful was unfolding in front of her. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my God, Eric, what have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything,” he snapped.
“Tell Tammy the real reason why you pulled Bill off of that trip to Mexico.”
“Eric, what is he talking about?”
A fine line separates self-righteous anger from all-out panic, and Dom could tell that Eric was toeing the line. If this was going to get violent, now would be the time.
Tammy rose from her seat and walked to her husband. “Eric, is Billy in danger?”
Georgen looked like a trapped animal, his eyes wild and red as they darted from one corner of the room to another, either looking for an answer or a weapon.
Dom rose to join them. “You can get in front of this,” he said. “If you go to the police before the police come to you, I think the Wagners will feel a sense of justice. Confession goes a long way toward counteracting betrayal.”
“Eric, tell me.” Tammy said. “Look at me and tell me.”
Georgen pushed her gently away and started to pace, nervously adjusting the belt on his robe. “I just want you to know that I told Reverend Jackie that this was a bad idea. I thought it was desperate. She countered that these are desperate times. And Abrams guaranteed that the missionaries would be safe.”
Tammy reflexively reached out for Dom’s arm. He covered her grasp with his other hand.
“What went wrong?” he asked Dom.
“First tell Tammy,” Dom said. “You owe her that much.” He walked her to the sofa and sat her next to her husband.
Eric started with a huge breath. “This man named Abrams approached us with a plan.”
“Approached whom?” Dom interrupted. He needed specifics.
“Reverend Mitchell, I think. I showed up for a board of directors meeting and he was there. Toward the end of the meeting, she asked all but the executive committee to leave the room, and then Abrams made his pitch. We were to allow the missionaries to be taken captive, and when the ransom demand came in, we were to walk through a series of very specific steps to arrange for a particular person to rescue them.”
“Oh, my God,” Tammy gasped.
“It sounds worse that it was,” Georgen said. “Honey, you know how strapped the church has been for cash since… well, since the incident. This man-this Abrams-gave us the money for the ransom, with more to spare-millions of dollars-to keep us afloat.”
“You’re talking about endangering children,” Tammy said. Dom sensed that if he hadn’t been sitting on the other side of her, she’d have pulled away from Georgen.
“No,” Georgen insisted. “We’re talking about the charade of kidnapping. We were told that no one would get hurt.”
“Think of how terrifying that would have been,” Tammy said. Giving in to the urge to separate from him, she stood.
“It would be an adventure,” Georgen countered. “They’d be held for a couple of days, and then they’d be let go. No one was going to get hurt.” He pointed to Dom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about when you say they’re dead. I haven’t heard that.”
“There has to be an easier way to raise money,” Dom said, parrying the question.
Georgen rose to his feet, and Dom followed him. He wasn’t going to give him a height advantage. “It’s not like we dreamed this up out of the blue,” he insisted. “Abrams came to us with this. And with the details he knew, I actually thought that he was working for the government.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Tammy shouted. “Why would the government want to kidnap missionaries?”
“It wasn’t about the missionaries!” Georgen said. “It was never about them. That’s why we ultimately agreed. This was about arresting some enemies of the state or some such thing. They didn’t go into a lot of detail, but it was all an elaborate trap for the rescuers.”
He reached out for Tammy and grasped her shoulders. “Honey, you have to believe that we were told that there was zero chance that anybody would get hurt.”
“They’re dead, Eric! Didn’t you hear Father?”
Georgen shot a panicked look to Dom. “What happened?”
“Either someone lied, or communications broke down.”