My sincerest apologies to everyone that has written me asking me to continue this series. I had a number of issues delaying this, not the least of which was the fact that I let what was supposed to be a minor back-story about the preacher get away from me, causing writer's block when I tried to figure out how to get back on track. I had hoped that writing the "Second Chances" series with rainbowdreamer would help, but alas, it didn't.
I finally figured out a way to deal with the preacher and get this series going again. There is very little sex in this chapter, and what is here isn't my usual sex scene. I promise to do my best to give more regular chapters, now that I believe I have my writing mojo back. I am already working on the next episode, where the preacher will be dealt with accordingly, and this series will be back on track.
*****
I gave up on trying to get the minister to agree to pay my medical bills, so I made arrangements to take care of them, but I decided to ramp up my work on him, and his wife. There was something about him that kept him on my radar.
I worked on a job over the next few days, and when I came home one day there was a large, familiar Harley sitting in front of my house, with an equally large man sitting on my stairs. Smiling to myself, I knew that Rat must have found something interesting on the good minster.
"Beer me, you ugly bastard!" was the first thing I heard as I stepped out of my truck.
"I'm surprised you didn't just break in and help yourself," I shot back as walked up to the house.
"Consider it a professional courtesy," he replied. "Besides, I never know what kind of psychotic animals you have wandering around inside."
"Seriously?" I exclaimed, laughing as I unlocked my front door. "All the shit we saw in country, all the crap that we barely survived, and you're afraid of a couple of house pets?"
"Fuck you," he mumbled in reply. "That fucking cat you had was nuts!"
"Awww. She loved you!" I replied, laughing at how my nine year old tabby, as docile an animal as I've ever seen, almost literally scared the crap out of Rat when she jumped up on his back as he was standing in my kitchen the last time that he spent time with me.
"Fuck you again," he replied, opening my refrigerator and grabbing a beer.
"Hey, asshole!" I said, seeing that he only had one beer in his over-sized hand. "What the fuck?"
"Oh. Yeah," he mumbled, handing the beer to me.
I then went to my liquor cabinet and broke out a bottle of 12 year old Jameson and we went out onto the deck, where he filled me in on what he was able to find out about the good reverend.
"This sumbitch is a piece of work," Rat growled after he downed a shot. "I'll give him this, he knows how to cover his tracks pretty well."
"But not well enough," I added, filling our glasses again.
"He's good," Rat replied. "But he's not THAT good."
A couple of minutes later, we were downloading the contents of a flash drive onto my computer. Rat told me that after he put all of the info that I gave him into the national databases and came up empty, he had to do the same with every individual state. Finally, after going through every single military, federal, and state database available, Rat struck gold.
It turns out that the good reverend was nothing more than a petty criminal. He was arrested for the first time, as an adult at least, on his 18th birthday under the name Dwight Corey, for attempted robbery. It turned out that the owner of the store that Dwight and his equally misguided nitwit buddies tried to rob was a Cambodian refugee who had lived through the Viet Nam war as well as Pol Pot, so three pimple-faced, greasy-haired kids weren't going to scare him, and he pulled out a .357 to hold them until the cops arrived.
For the next eight years, Dwight Corey was in and out of jail for everything from DUI to a three-year stint as a guest of the state for Grand Theft Auto. Within a year of his release from prison, Dwight Corey just disappeared.
Thanks to data mining, Rat was able to follow Dwight through a half dozen different incarnations, in and out of jail, but now graduated to much bigger ticket crimes like fraud and Grand Larceny. He always managed to disappear just before he was arrested.
Five years ago, Robert Smith appeared on the scene at Holly Hill, this time as a minster. A few months later, Sarah's parents were killed in a car accident that the state police investigators considered questionable, but couldn't prove anything.
"Thank the deities for facial recognition software," Rat said as he poured himself another drink. "I never would have found him without the stuff the feds have."
I paged through the contents of the flash drive while Rat continued talking and drinking. As I read, he explained how all of Dwight's crimes were small enough to not attract Federal, or usually even State, attention.
"He was smart enough to stay under the radar," Rat said. "Everything that he did was on a smaller, local scale. I had to do some major digging to find this bastard."
The more that I read, the more a pattern started to emerge. The only difference was the scale of his crimes. As I read further, I saw that he basically didn't exist for a couple of years before he appeared as Reverend Robert Smith. Within the year, Sarah's parents were dead, with Dwight taking over Sarah's father's congregation.
"So all of this is over medical bills?" Rat asked as I sat back.
"It started out as the medical bills, but it turned into more than that," I replied. "A lot more."
"I can't explain it," I continued as he looked at me silently. I COULDN'T explain it to him! I can't explain what's happening to myself, much less anyone else! "I just got a bad vibe from the guy."
"He's a religious fraud, he's a wife beater, and just a general asshole."
"He beats his old lady?" he replied. That was a major sin in Rat's world. Violence against women and kids was something that we both hated, and part of a code that we both lived by, one that had gotten both of us in trouble before. Not that either of us would change that belief... "That kinda shit ain't right."
"So, what's your plan?" he asked me a few minutes later, when I got up for another beer.
"His downfall," I replied.