“Or how about you go back to your depraved lifestyle and leave our church alone to do God’s work in peace. And I’ll stop gathering information that could destroy you. That’s my compromise.”
“Destroy me? What could you possibly do to me that hasn’t already been done?” Kingsley laughed openly. “You need a better threat.”
“From what I can see, I have more on you than you have on me.”
“I haven’t given up looking. And unlike you, I’m not ashamed of anything you’d find out about me,” Kingsley said, hoping Fuller believed that. He did have more than a few secrets he’d prefer to keep. “I don’t think you could say the same.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Good,” Kingsley said. “That will make it easier to find what I need.”
“You’re not going to find anything. And if you keep looking, so will I. And not only at you.”
“My friends have nothing to hide, either.”
“Even the priest in the family?”
“I’ll tell you anything about him you want to know. Did you know he was abused as a child? Hospitalized after his father broke his arm? Did you know he killed a sexual predator at his school? He also gave up a huge fortune to become a priest after he was widowed at age eighteen. He spent several summers volunteering at a leper colony in India. How much time have you spent volunteering in leper colonies?”
Kingsley gave Fuller a long, pointed look. Fuller didn’t answer.
“Take some advice,” Kingsley said, “and keep your eyes on me. If you stare at him too long, you might learn something about what it means to be a man of God.”
Fuller raised his chin.
“You can go now, Mr. Edge. I think we’ve talked man to man enough.”
“I will. I don’t want to be late for my game. My other game.”
Kingsley gave a mock bow and headed out.
“Mr. Edge?” Fuller called out after him. Kingsley turned on his heel.
“Oui?”
“I have more money than you. And more contacts. And friends in higher places. Remember that.”
“Quite the Goliath, aren’t you?” Kingsley smiled once more. “When I get your hotel and turn it into my club, I’ll fuck a man on opening night in your honor. By the way, do you have any sons?”
“Pardon my French, Monsieur Edge, but get the fuck out of my office.”
Kingsley happily obliged the man.
He walked out of Fuller’s building and to his car. Nothing productive had come from his meeting with Fuller. No secrets were uncovered. No truths revealed. And yet…
Fuller was scared and Kingsley had seen it. Fear meant one thing only—Fuller did have something to hide. And Kingsley was going to find it.
But something else had come of the meeting. Kingsley had a leak in his personal security. Five people had his private line number. Five suspects. Sam, Blaise and S?ren were out. Sam hated the Fullers more than he did. Blaise was actively campaigning against them. And S?ren wouldn’t betray Kingsley to Fuller if someone put a gun to his head.
So that left his lawyer and his friend on the force. Kingsley would give them both a call very soon.
But not right now. He had better things to do with his time. And if not better, than certainly more enjoyable.
He made it to Wakefield an hour before the game started and found S?ren working in his office. He had his collar and clerics on and had stacks of books piled high on the desk, note cards marking pages. The only photograph in the office was on S?ren’s desk—him in his white vestments standing next to a lovely blonde woman gazing on him adoringly. S?ren and his mother on the day of his ordination. A small but elegant office. A sacred space devoted to learning and prayer. It couldn’t have been more different than Fuller’s. Not a golf club in sight.
“If you came for confession,” S?ren said, glancing up at him from his notes, “do it now. I will not be in a state of grace after this game if we lose.”
“We aren’t going to lose.”
“Do you know what their pastor said to me after the last game? He said their team was predestined to win. Now I understand how holy wars get started.”