Chapter Three
"Your son disowned *you*?" Simon's voice was shocked.
"Well, let us say that we came to a...mutual decision. I have not seen him or heard of him since. I...I don't even know if he's alive, but I pray he is."
"You pray for him?"
"Yes, Captain. And for those like him." Jim caught his eye for a moment. Hunter took a deep breath. "If it became known that a child I raised has embraced this lifestyle, it will hurt me. It would probably hurt him if it became known that I did raise him. For these reasons, I would rather it would not be known, but if it happened, I will survive it. So will he." He sounded resigned, not defiant.
"Have you heard of PTU before? Have they contacted you before?"
"No, detective. Until today, I had no idea this...group, I assume, existed. I have no idea what the initials mean. Have you?"
Jim shook his head. "No, sir. But it's still our best lead. We'll be in touch with anything we find."
"Thank you." Hunter stood up and offered his hand to the other three men. Blair simply stared at it. Hunter tightened his lips but made no comment, and shook Jim's and Simon's before he left.
"What was that about, Sandburg?"
"I can't shake his hand. I could hardly stand being in the same room with him. How could *either* of you manage it? Jim, he wants *us* rounded up and put in *concentration camps*. He probably wants me in a different one than you."
"Tell me now, Sandburg. Will this be a problem for you? Will it affect your ability to work this case?"
Blair was silent for a moment. Then he reached for Jim's hand. "I...right now, I'm okay. There's his son and all. But...if it changes, I'll let you know. Just don't leave me alone with him, or make me shake his hand. I don't know how either of you...especially you, Jim...manage it."
"Practice, darling. Practice." Jim rubbed Blair's shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I know what he says. But he's a victim here. He's not the criminal."
Blair smiled - exactly the same tight smile that Hunter had used earlier - and nodded. "But I'm not going to shake his hand."
Simon let out a breath. "Agreed."
Blair smiled - exactly the same tight smile that Hunter had used earlier - and nodded. "But I'm not going to shake his hand."
Simon let out a breath. "Agreed."
Blair sat down on Hunter's vacated chair and dropped his head into his hands. "I should be getting such evil vibes off of him, and they *aren't* there. Something doesn't fit."
Jim dropped a hand on his shoulder. "He's not *evil*, sweetie. What he says is *wrong* and I will fight to the *death* to keep it from happening, but..."
"If he wants these things, if he wants the whole conservative agenda that'll throw us back into the *dark* ages, how can he be anything else, James?"
"Because he's not in it for the power or the money." Simon spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "He's in it because he sincerely believes it. I've heard him speak. I don't like what he has to say. There are times I have to change the station before I just destroy the radio. But...I don't hate *him.*"
"Someone does, Simon. And we have to find out who. Not for *him*, darling, or his Neandertal *fans*, but because..."
Blair looked up and smiled through his hair. "Because it's what we do, James? Where do we start?"
Jim grinned and kissed his cheek. "That's my man. We start with the information we have. An anonymous letter from an unknown organization slipped under their door, and found first thing in the morning. Now, what does that tell us?"
"It tells us that someone had access to the office either late night or early morning. Someone who knew about Hunter's son...that he existed, where he is and *who* he is. What he is, too."
"Okay. So...we're going to interview the secretary and find out who has access to the building."
Blair nodded. "And then we'll do a search for TPU, assuming that whoever sent the letter isn't Timothy Peter Unger or something."
Jim grinned. "I wouldn't mind that at all. How about you, Simon, dear?"
"Don't call me 'dear.' And, no, I wouldn't mind that, either. Go. Interview the lady. Charm her pants off."
Jim made a face, echoed by Blair. "You don't have to be *crude*, Simon."
"Just get out of my office and get some work done."
"Yes, dear." Jim dropped a kiss on his head as he left. Blair followed, chuckling.
*******
"We can be there in twenty minutes, Ms. Jones. I'm *so* sorry. Mrs. Jones. Yes. Thank you. God bless you, too." Jim shook his head as he hung up the phone.
Blair looked up from his computer search. "All set?"
"Yeah. I hope I don't freak the poor lady out. Let's go."
Mrs. Jones was a sweet-faced, silver-haired lady in a tailored skirt and blouse, and much too much perfume. The only person he knew who did that was a biker dyke who hung out in Club Purple.
When she shook his hand, there were odd callouses, as if she were an avid gardener. She welcomed them into the office and promptly offered them a choice of coffee and tea, and then proceeded to *make* the coffee from scratch.
"Detective Ellison, that's a very unusual suit you are wearing. I don't believe I've ever seen one quite that color before. Certainly, the late Mr. Jones never wore one like that, nor dear Dr. Hunter." She handed them large mugs of what turned out to be fairly weak coffee.
"This old thing? It's just something I tossed on."
"Well, it brings out your eyes, dear. Now, what did you boys want?"
Blair leaned forward. "Mrs. Jones, you know we're here about that note Dr. Hunter found this morning."
She nodded. "Horrible thing it was, too. I was *so* upset."
Jim patted her hand. "I'm *sure* it was, sweetheart."
"You don't know how I felt. I came in this morning and got things set up just as Dr. Hunter likes them...coffee made, all mail on his desk...the poor man gets hundreds of letters a day, but he looks at *all* of them, even the hateful ones."
"Then what?"
"I don't know how I missed it the first time. I stepped on it as I walked in...the envelope was all dented from my foot. It was just inside the door."
"Was anything written on the envelope?"
She shook her head. "It wasn't even sealed. It just had the flap tucked in. So, of course, I opened it. I don't mind telling you boys, I was shaken. Who would do such a thing to dear Dr. Hunter? Who?"
Jim stroked her hand. "There are evil people in this world."
"Oh, I *know* it. Dr. Hunter fights against them all the time. All he wants is to make our country the good, moral, Christian place our forefathers intended it to be. Is that wrong, Dr. Sandburg?"
Blair blinked. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but, to Jim's amusement, nothing came out. "Umm. He has definite goals, doesn't he?"
"Oh, my, yes. I do not understand why they called him a hatemonger. I've never seen anyone as filled with love as that dear man."
"Excuse me, Mrs. Jones." Blair got up and moved to the large window on the other side of the office. Jim could hear him muttering that he was calm as he did.
He had to fight his need to comfort him. Blair was dealing. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee.
"What is wrong with your friend, detective?"
"Let's just say that certain...types of people make him upset. Now, what did you do once you opened the letter?"
Mrs. Jones looked at Blair, who was doing deep breathing exercises. "Such a sensitive young man. I didn't do anything. I finished getting the office ready. I get in around eight in the morning; Dr. Hunter comes in at eight thirty. On the dot. I noticed it about...let's see. The coffee was about done...a quarter after. So fifteen minutes later."
"Then what?"
"Why, when he came in, I showed the horrid thing to him. He turned *white*. Absolutely white. Next thing, he went to his office and said to cancel his appointments for the day, and to screen all calls. Then he closed himself in his office. An hour later, he went down to your station and he hasn't been back."
That gibed with the time Hunter came to talk to Simon. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's gone to the radio station for his afternoon show, of course. He never misses one. Hunter's Arrow - 1PM to 3PM daily. He needs to get his materials in order, and, of course, today he's terribly distressed."
"Ah. So he needs the extra time?"
"Wouldn't you, detective, if someone sent you something that hateful?"
Jim nodded. "Thank you for your time, dear lady. I appreciate it and your coffee very, very much." He stood up and bent over her hand. She giggled.
"Anytime, detective. I'll be only too glad to help."
"I'm sure. Chief? We're leaving. Chief?"
Blair looked up. "Oh...okay. Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Jones. I'm sorry for..."
"It's quite all right. I feel the same way. Take care and God bless, boys."
They waved as they left the office, Jim's hand at the small of Blair's back.
To his intense relief, this kept Blair from exploding all the way down the elevator and into the parking garage. By the time they reached the truck, Blair was shaking with the effort to keep things under control.
He sat in the truck, clenching and unclenching his fists, breathing hard from the effort not to scream. "She...she...every thing she said...the way...oh, God, James. She believed it all."
"I know, Chief." He pulled Blair closer.
"She was so...so nice. Motherly. And...God. 'A good, Christian, moral...' She didn't even know why I was upset, did she?"
"No."
"How? How can someone so nice, so kind - like Hunter. He's educated. That doctorate is real. He went to Stanford, he got a degree in political science."
"That doesn't mean *anything*, darling. You *know* that."
"I know. She...she just...assumed we felt the same way. That there is only one *right* way to feel."
Jim shook his head. "And you don't? I mean, if she's been as to the left as she is to the right, you'd be in love with her."
"Yeah, but that's because then she'd be *right*." Blair chuckled a little. "Yeah, I know. But, her lord and master wants to impose his views on us all *legally*. And in his universe, I'd have two strikes against me, and that scares me more." He let go of Jim and sat up straight in his seat. "Okay, I'm cool now."
"Sure you are, Chief." Jim rolled his eyes before starting the truck. He pulled out of the spot as Blair found the ticket and got out Jim's badge to wave at the parking attendant. "I gotta say, though - Hunter's as homophobic as they come, and his agenda would crack down hard on all minorities, but I've never heard him be actively racist or antisemitic."
"No, he hasn't, nothing overt. I mean, he's said nasty things about Wicca, and that's bad enough, but not about any other belief system. Except...God. I cringe when he talks about a 'good, Christian nation.'"
Jim pulled onto the street leading to the station. "Doesn't leave much room for *anyone* else, does it?"
"That's my worry. Not that he'd ever come to power, right, Jim?"
"Right, Chief." They drove in silence for a while, Blair's hand grasping Jim's. "Chief?"
"Yeah?"
"You hungry? It's about 12:30."
"I could eat, yeah. How does falafel sound?"
"Works for me."
They carried their lunch back to the bullpen, where they handed one to Simon, who looked rather non-plussed at the concoction, even when Blair assured him it was edible, if messy. Then they made their report on the secretary.
Jim found himself doing all the talking, though. Blair was still having anger issues, apparently. He'd had to put his pita sandwich down before he deformed it.
"Okay. So it's pretty well confirmed that the letter was there before 8AM. That's at least something." Simon glanced at his watch. "Okay, you two. I hate to do this, especially when you have these fine...whatever they are...but Hunter's radio program is on now. Go listen to it."
"No way, man. I can't do it." Blair began to pace around the office.
"You don't have a choice, Sandburg. Anything can be a clue to his blackmailers. Anything he says. Also, we need to be sure he doesn't drop hints he's been to see us."
"Come on, Chief. You *can't* let me listen to him *alone*. You have to be there to hold my hand." Jim batted his eyelashes.
"Only for you, James." Blair looked at him with a combination of love and exasperation. "You have a radio available, Simon?"
"I have one ready for you. There's an interrogation room free. Take your lunches and listen there. And...Sandburg?"
"Yes?"
"It's city property. Don't toss it against the wall, or it comes out of your paycheck. Hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Captain."