I hated churches. Not because I was an atheist. Nor was it because I had some traumatic childhood with an unsavory priest.
No.
I hated churches because people trusted them too easily.
People trusted churches, hospitals, and old men with canes.
And trust made monsters harder to catch.
I pushed open the precinct doors and stepped inside.
The place smelled of stale coffee and sleep deprivation.
So, home.
"Morning, detective."
I looked up.
Officer Ramirez sat at his desk, eating a donut.
I checked my watch.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Eight in the morning."
"Exactly. Why are you eating a donut?"
He frowned.
"Because it's breakfast?"
"That's disgusting."
He looked offended.
I continued walking.
The reflection in the nearby window kept pace with me.
"You know... I'd eat the donut."
"No, you wouldn't." I huffed under my breath.
Ramirez blinked.
"What?"
I froze for a second.
"Nothing."
I kept walking. It was easier that way. Entered the conference room The entire task force was already there.
Detective Morris.
Sergeant Lee.
Two financial investigators.
An assistant district attorney.
And enough paperwork to kill a horse.
Good.
I hated horses.
I tossed my folder onto the table.
"Morning."
Nobody said anything.
I frowned.
"Why does everyone look like someone died?"
Sergeant Lee folded his arms.
"Because someone might have."
Oh.
Right.
Thomas had gone missing.
I sat down.
"Any news?"
"No sign of him."
No body.
No witnesses.
No calls.
Nothing.
I looked at the empty chair beside me.
The reflection sat in it.
"Still think Joe didn't take him?"
I ignored him. But my thoughts were moving. This maniac likes fun. The thrill of something giving him a challenge. He just wouldn't remove a piece that could potentially bring in more fun. He would most likely keep it in the open and dangle it in front of the beasts to lure them in.
The reflection crossed his arms.
"You're worried."
I was.
I hated that.
Morris slid a folder toward me.
"We went through everything Thomas gave us."
I picked it up and opened it.
Financial statements.
Offshore accounts.
Property deeds.
Transfers.
Lots of transfers.
"Well." I throw the folders back on the table.
"What?"
"Pastor Joe commits crimes with excellent handwriting."
Nobody laughed.
Tough crowd.
The assistant district attorney leaned forward.
"How much of this can we actually prove? Because if these aren't credible then we really have nothing to work on then."
I flipped through the pages.
"We can prove enough."
"Enough for what exactly?"
I looked up.
"To make him start to feel very uncomfortable."
"Not enough to arrest him?"
"Not yet."
"Not enough to charge him?"
"Not that either."
"Then what do we have?"
Their voices started to flood in.
"This could ruin a potentially innocent man's life."
"If we have nothing, then why are we here?"
I snap the folder shut, quieting them down.
"If he's innocent, he'll survive a damn audit!"
I cursed out before calming myself down and speaking again.
"But what we do have now, and will have, is a crack. A crack in his golden visage."
The room went quiet.
I stood and walked toward the whiteboard.
At the center was a picture of the person of interest.
Name: Joseph Bishop
Race: White
Sex: Male
Age: 26
Height: 6'0ft
Weight: 168
Hair Type: Blonde
Eye Color: Emerald Green
Note: A young cult leader posing as a pastor. Very charismatic and manipulative. He seemingly has thousands of people following him and helping him, knowingly or unknowingly. Thousands of people are under him, and his influence is estimated to have a chance to rival that of the most influential cult leaders or drug lords in the foreseeable future.
Smiling.
Warm.
Trustworthy.
A liar.
I pointed at the photograph. My voice booming even louder for everyone in the room.
"This man has built an empire in just six years and has likely been working behind the scenes even before that."
I wrote a circle around his picture.
"People like him don't collapse all at once."
Another circle.
"They crack. Like running water, we will slowly wither away his concrete shell."
Another.
"And those cracks will lead us somewhere deeper."
I turned back to them.
"We don't need to arrest Joseph Bishop just yet."
The assistant district attorney frowned.
"We don't?"
"No."
I smiled.
"We need to play with him."
Silence.
Now I had properly gotten their attention and sharpened their minds.
I pointed at the board.
"We raid one property."
A X.
"Freeze one account."
Another X.
"We question one member. Pull one permit and then suddenly everyone around him starts asking questions."
I tapped the board.
"People don't abandon a sinking ship first."
I tapped it again.
"They abandon a ship they think is sinking beforehand."
Sergeant Lee slowly nodded.
"You want to create panic."
"Exactly."
Morris smiled.
"That's evil."
I smirk.
"A great evil can only truly be defeated by another great evil."
The reflection clapped.
Oh, I like this plan.
I ignored him.
The assistant district attorney looked through the files.
"What can we move on immediately?"
I opened another folder.
A small smile spread across my face.
"There."
"What is it?"
I handed it over.
He read it.
Then looked up.
"This?"
"Exactly."
Sergeant Lee frowned.
"What?"
I looked at him.
"Tax fraud."
Silence.
Then Morris burst out laughing.
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"After all this, we're going after the cult leader for taxes?"
I shrugged.
"It worked on Al Capone."
The room laughed.
Even Sergeant Lee smiled.
I looked back at Joe's photograph intently.
Still smiling.
Still pretending.
I wondered if he'd smile when federal agents started digging through his finances.
Probably.
That man smiled too much.
The assistant district attorney closed the folder.
"I can get warrants for these."
I nodded.
"Good."
"And after that?"
I looked at the board.
At the circles.
At the names.
At the empire.
Then I smiled.
"We start pulling threads." The reflection stood beside me.
"And eventually?"
I looked at Joseph Bishop's picture.
"Eventually..." I hummed out, tapping the photograph.
"...the whole thing comes apart."
The room slowly came alive.
People started talking.
Making calls.
Moving files.
Planning.
The machine had finally started. The cogs are in overdrive, and ready to complete its task.
I stood there and watched.
Somewhere out there...
Joseph Bishop was smiling.
Completely unaware.
Or perhaps completely aware.
Honestly, I wasn't sure which possibility bothered me more.
The reflection looked at the photograph.
"You know..."
"What?"
"I think he's going to enjoy this."
I frowned.
"...Probably."
The reflection smiled.
"Good."
I looked at him.
"Why good?"
His grin widened.
"Because hunting monsters is fun."
I looked back at the photograph.
At that perfect smile.
At the man behind it.
Then at the files in my hands.
No.
This wasn't fun.
This was necessary.
I opened the folder one last time.
And on the very last page...
I found something.
A property deed.
An old retreat center.
Purchased only a couple days ago.
I frowned.
"That's odd."
"What?" Morris asked.
I stared at the paper.
Then slowly smiled.
"I think I just found our first thread."
And somewhere across the city...
A phone rang inside Joseph Bishop's office.