The detective frowned down at his file. “Your IMDB profile said your father was a preacher and your mother was a school teacher.”
Calder shook his head. Even the cops in LA were Hollywood. Hopefully Grady had done more than a quick Google search before he’d questioned Robby.
“Son of a notorious cult leader doesn’t sell well when you’re trying to make a name for yourself in Hollywood. It was my father’s idea,” Robby finally said.
“Why would your father want you to lie about who you are?” Grady asked.
Calder was curious too.
“He thought if my siblings and I became famous, we could recruit other celebrities into the fold. Celebrities bring money and legitimacy. My brothers and sisters couldn’t book any jobs. I was picked up by an agency almost immediately. Then I got the television gig. Once I knew I had the ability to pay my own way, I came out to my family as gay. My father declared me dead in the eyes of Magnus Dei, which was fine by me. But he said I couldn’t see my brothers or sisters anymore or my mom. Not that my mom wanted to see me after she knew. My publicist thought it best to just stick with the original story.”
“But now he thinks you’ve gone straight and he wants you back on track?” Calder muttered.
Robby shrugged. “Maybe. He bailed me out of jail the other day. Tried to make me go with him. I don’t think anybody else cares enough to try to kidnap me. I’m not the kind of celebrity who has stalkers.”
Calder felt like somebody had mule kicked him at the boy’s words. Nobody else cared enough to kidnap him. Jesus.
Robby looked visibly upset, like the morning had finally caught up with him. “Look, I answered all your questions. Can I please go home now?”
Grady shifted in his seat. “Your apartment is still an official crime scene.”
“Are you going to arrest my client?” Fields pressed.
“That’s up to the prosecutors, not me. He’s free to go, for now. But he needs to make himself available if we have questions in the future.”
Stanton Fields was already on his feet. “You know how to get in touch.”
The three of them were almost to the door when Robby stopped. “If he was one of my father’s followers, there will be a burn on his heel in the shape of a cross. If that helps.”
Branded. Like Jennifer. Like all of Elizer’s girls. What was it with men like Elizer and Robby’s father that made them want to mark their flock like cattle? Did Robby have a scar on his foot? Calder couldn’t remember. He felt like an even bigger asshole than before. He never should have messed with Robby. The kid needed help, not sex. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Outside the station, the attorney handed Robby a business card and then headed for the parking lot, leaving them alone. “Is somebody coming to pick you up?” Calder asked.
Robby scoffed. “Like who?”
Once more, Calder’s stomach churned. “Come on. We’re going to stop at the office, and then you’re coming home with me.”
“I am?”
Calder was sure he would live to regret this. “Yes, you are.”
It was a testament to Robby’s exhaustion level that he managed to doze off with Calder beside him in the truck, but he must have because Calder gently shook him awake.
“Come on, angel face. I need to talk to Linc for a few minutes, and I don’t want you alone out here.”
Nausea and fatigue warred within Robby, but he didn’t fight when Calder took Cas from him and helped him from the truck. On the ride up the elevator, he leaned against the mirrored walls with his eyes closed. Ten steps into the office, two pairs of arms enveloped him. Charlie and Wyatt. He wanted to cry for the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours.
“Why are you guys here?” he asked, flushing at how rude it sounded.
“Are you kidding? It’s all over the news. When Linc said you were on your way to the office, we hurried over to check on you. I can’t believe this happened. We never should have left you alone last night,” Charlie cried, her coconut shampoo overwhelming his senses as she clung to him.
“I don’t think that would have helped,” Robby managed.
“You stay here with them while I talk to Linc. Why don’t you guys go hang out in the kitchen or the conference room? Somewhere quiet,” Calder suggested, his large hand practically burning a hole into Robby’s shoulder.
Robby let his two new friends drag him into the conference room and slam the door. Wyatt pushed a button, frosting over the glass for added privacy. Robby sat in the same chair he’d sat in just days before, and Charlie and Wyatt sat on the table. It was like deja vu, only with more blood and an unhealthy amount of guilt.
“Did you really kill somebody?” Charlie asked.
