Free A Fountain Filled With Blood by Julia Spencer-Fleming

I’ve read. You just have to help them make the right connections.” He broke his gaze away from the television screen and looked at Clare. His eyes had a desperate quality to them. “I know he could stop being…that way if he just had some support. Like AA.” He shot a bitter look at the rest of his family, who were clustered around Russ. “They’re no help.”
    Clare took a moment before answering. “I have heard of those programs. Attempting to convert homosexuals to heterosexuality. St. Alban’s—and the Episcopal church in general—doesn’t do anything like that, no. And from what I understand, the groups that do have a very poor long-term success rate.” She touched his sleeve lightly. “I do believe there’s a much higher level of success in support groups that help parents come to grips with their kids’ sexual orientation.”
    His eyes sparked, hot and hard. “He’s just had the crap beaten out of him because of what he is. Why the hell should I accept that?”
    “Because he’s just had the crap beaten out of him for being what he is. If he could have changed himself, don’t you think he would have?”
    “I just want my kid to be normal. Is that so bad? They can fix anything in your head these days, between the drugs and the therapy. Why not fix this?”
    “Mr. MacPherson,” she said, “what sort of counseling or drug could make you turn from a heterosexual to a homosexual?”
    He looked at her, and she could see that she hadn’t reached him at all. She sighed and turned back to where Russ was finishing up with the other MacPhersons. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three business cards. “If you think of anything, even if you’re not sure it has any relationship, even if you think we already know it, give us a call.” He gestured toward the door. “I’m going to be back later, when Todd is awake. I’ll interview him. If we’re lucky, he’ll be able to identify his attackers, and all the rest of this will be moot. I’ll see you all then.” He shook hands with Mrs. MacPherson and Tim. “Thanks for all your cooperation. Reverend Fergusson, can I see you outside for a moment?”
    As soon as the door to the waiting room closed behind them, they turned to each other. “What are you doing here?” Russ said.
    “Why didn’t you tell them about Emil Dvorak?” Clare asked at the same time.
    “I didn’t—” he began as she said, “They were—” They both took a breath.
    “Why don’t you—” they both said.
    Russ put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “You first. Why are you here with Todd MacPherson’s family? Do you know him?”
    “I was supposed to marry his sister, Trisha MacPherson, and Kurt Engels this afternoon.”
    “Ouch. That’s gotta be tough. Do they belong to your church?”
    “No. I didn’t know them before I did their premarital counseling. If you want to get married in Millers Kill in a beautiful old church, your choices are St. Alban’s, First Presbyterian, or High Street Baptist. Dr. McFeely at First Presbyterian wants engaged couples to have some connection to his parish, and Reverend Inman wants to be assured they haven’t been sleeping together before the ceremony. So I do a pretty brisk business. My turn. Why didn’t you tell them this is the second episode of gay-bashing in four days?”
    “Because my thinking hasn’t changed on this. I don’t want to start rumors that someone is going around attacking gays, or gay-owned businesses.”
    “That is completely irresponsible! You can’t possibly believe that this is a coincidence!” Her voice rose on the last word. He took her upper arm and dragged her a few steps down the hallway, away from the waiting room.
    “I don’t believe in coincidence. But starting a panic about who might or might not be next in line for a visit from the heterosexual hit men isn’t going to serve any purpose other than to scare a lot of people and give the town a bad name.”
    “It