"Who's in control?"

"Bird's definitely alpha. So, when are you back to Charlotte?" Too casual. Something was up.

"I'm not sure. Why?" Wary.

"Gentleman came to my office yesterday. He has financial issues with Aubrey Herron, and it seems his daughter's hooked up with Herron as well."

The Reverend Aubrey Herron was a televangelist with a small but ardent following throughout the Southeast, known as God's Mercy Church. In addition to its headquarters and TV studio, GMC operated a number of Third World orphanages and several free medical clinics in the Carolinas and Georgia.

"God Means Charity." Herron closed every broadcast with the slogan.

"Give Mucho Cash." Pete quoted a popular variation.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Financial reports have not been forthcoming, the kid's gone incommunicado, and the Reverend Herron is being less than cooperative on either issue."

"Shouldn't Daddy hire a private investigator?"

"Daddy did. The guy went missing."

"You're thinking Bermuda Triangle?"

"Aliens."

"You're a lawyer, Pete. Not a gumshoe."

"There's money involved."

"No!"

Pete ignored that.

"Daddy's really worried?" I asked.

"Daddy's beyond worried and out the other side."

"About the money or the daughter?"

"Perceptive question. Flynn's really hiring me to look into the books. Wants me to bring pressure on GMC. If I can scare up something on the daughter, that's a bonus. I offered to drop in on the reverend."

"And scare the wingtips off him."

"With my legal acumen."

Comprehension sprang into focus.

"GMC is headquartered in Charleston," I said.

"I talked to Anne. She offered the house, if it's cool with you."

"When?" I gave a sigh that would have made Homer Winborne proud.

"Sunday?"

"Why not." Only a billion reasons.