Pari leapt on the question. “Oh, it’s this wonderful safe house downtown for kids, and Chuck does everything for them. She’s there day and night, really. They couldn’t get along without her. Tell them about the lock-in you’re working on. Tell them about that game you came up, the one with the finger paint, really, you guys won’t even believe how creative she is—”

Taking one of Pari’s hands, Chuck patted it and said, “Sweetheart, I need you to let me talk.”

“Well, I am. You’ve been telling them all sorts of things.”

“Pari.”

Pari flounced back in the chair. “Fine.” But she didn’t pull away from Chuck’s touch.

“It’s a safe place for LGBTQ kids. I wear a lot of hats. A lot of administrative work, and then there’s a lot of contact time with the kids.”

“A shelter?” Shaw asked.

“Not really, although we let kids stay there sometimes. We’re not really supposed to do that. You can imagine how many laws there are protecting kids, and we’re supposed to contact guardians, obtain permission, act as mandated reporters.” She shrugged. “Most of the time, it’s not an issue. The kids stay with other kids. But every once in a while, somebody crashes on the couch for a night or two.”

“Does this have something to do with one of the kids? If it does, we might need to take it to the police.”

Chuck shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s not even really about Iris. I mean, it is. But only because that’s my connection to him.”

“Who?”

She was watching them, waiting for a reaction as she said the name. “Shepherd Collins.”

Shaw shrugged and turned to North. North said, “Is that a religious title like pastor?”

With a laugh, Chuck shook her head. “No. But that’s funny. And not really funny, kind of sad funny. His name is Shepherd. He goes by Shep. You really haven’t heard of him?”

“Should we have?” Shaw said.

“There was a movie in the 1990s.”

North shook his head. “Does it matter? A case is a case, Chuck. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

“It matters. You might—” She bit her lip. “You might not take the case, and I want you to know upfront.”

A memory sparked in Shaw’s mind. “Shep Collins. Shep Collins. Like—hold on. The conversion therapy guy?”

“That’s him.”

“Who?” North asked.

“He was a preacher for some ultra-conservative church in Kansas.”

“Arkansas,” Chuck said.

“And he ran one of the biggest conversion centers in the country. I don’t know how many kids went through there. Hundreds, I guess.”

“Almost a thousand,” Chuck said.

“A thousand kids?” North was still slouching in his chair, close enough that when he swiveled, his knee bumped Shaw’s, but fury made his voice tight. “He fucked up a thousand kids with that bullshit?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Chuck said.

“Fuck that.”

Pari launched forward in her seat. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

“Sorry, Chuck,” North said, “but fuck that. If you’re serious, if he ran one of these conversion centers, he deserves to burn in hell. What did he do? Is he showing up at Iris? Is he trying to scare those kids? I will fuck him up so badly he’ll need Jesus Christ himself to get him out of traction.”