by E. M. Leya
Bryon nodded. "It could work."
"Fuck no. You can't do anything that will make them look at you as a possible suspect." Kasey sat back down.
"Why not? It's not like they'd find shit if they do come looking. We're careful not to have anything linked to us. Our STK phones are the only thing we carry that could ever be a link, and those are burner phones that are a non-issue as long as they don't get possession of them. What are they going to do, follow me to my old house where I have off-duty cops acting like twelve-year-old girls to lure the predators in? They already know about that. Hell, Chief Daniels stopped in for coffee the other day. I've got nothing to hide," Noam told him.
"Kasey, I get why you don't like this idea, but it's something to think about. We've never had to deal with this before. Yeah, we have a plan, and we will follow that plan, but you know as well as I do, it could be a couple of weeks before we can do anything. The timing has to be just right. Everything has to go smoothly. One fuck up and he's gone for a very long time." Bryon gripped the counter hard.
"He's gone either way." Kasey slammed his fist down on the table. "Fuck!"
The front door flew open again and Beau and Parson came walking in. Bryon sighed. "I told everyone if this ever happened not to come in."
"We can't all sit home waiting and wondering." Beau looked around the room. "It's true then? Dyson got arrested?"
"About an hour ago. He finished the job and got picked up on site. I don't have any information on what happened other than a neighbor thought he was breaking into the place. I won't have any info until they book him and we see the charges. Even then, that won't tell us what happened, just what he's charged with." Bryon glanced up as Xander and Matt walked in. "Fuck, do none of you listen to orders?"
Xander wasn't having it. He strode into the room looking pissed off as he got in Bryon's face. "What the fuck happened?"
"We don't know." Kasey jumped up, grabbing Xander's arm. "Don't blame Bryon. This isn't his fault. It could have been any of us. We all know the risk we're taking and that one day our luck is going to run out. It's why we have money set aside. We'll deal with this, but not by yelling or blaming each other."
Xander's nostrils flared. "Is he okay?"
"It sounds like it. He was being taken to the jail last I heard. Carter and Trenton are in there now following up on everything. Xan, I know he's your best friend, but I need your head clear for all this. It's going to be a tough few weeks." Bryon looked around the room. "All stings are off until further notice. This isn't the end of STK, but we have to take a break while this all blows over."
"This wasn't supposed to happen to him." Xander turned and left the room, headed toward the computer room down the hall.
"This wasn't supposed to happen to anyone," Bryon called with more anger in his voice than should have been there.
When Carter came to him with the STK idea, they'd planned for everything. There wasn't a situation they hadn't worked through, verbally playing through every move they would need to make to stay one step ahead of the police. They knew then that it could end in an arrest, or worse, several arrests. They planned for that too, but now that it was happening, Bryon didn't like the solution at all. He couldn't stand the idea of one of his men in police custody facing God knew what charges the police would toss at him.
"What can we do?" Matt asked.
"Go home, wait until this blows over. Keep away from the other team members. Go on with life like STK doesn't exist. Whatever any of you do, don't go see Dyson, don't write to him, don't drive past his house. For the time being, you don't know Dyson Fowler." Bryon glanced at Noam. "You and I will talk more about you going in to see him. It's a possibility, but I'm not giving the okay until we know more, and until we talk to Carter and make sure this won't fuck with his plans at all. I know we all want to help Dys, but right now, leaving him alone is what is going to help him the most. We don't want to cause him any more problems. We'll make sure we take care of him, but as you've all been told in training, this could take weeks. Until then, just keep your cool and go on with your lives."
Beau glanced at Parson, then back at Bryon. "I was coming in to tell you tomorrow, but now's as good a time as any. Parson and I are taking the kids on a trip to Hawaii. We'll be gone for two weeks. I was worried about the team, but I guess now, it works out well."
"Perfect timing. That's two less people I have to worry about. If you're in Hawaii, you're not here to cause problems. Take the rest of the team with you, would ya?" Bryon shook his head. "What a clusterfuck."
"Eric's going to freak with Jeff away for two weeks." Noam sighed.
"Jeff told Eric about it tonight. They've got it planned to Skype and Jeff is going to show Eric around by phone while we're gone. They'll get through it. They were trying to learn the Haka tonight before going to bed. When I went to see what all the yelling was about, they were laughing like crazy." Parson grinned.
"Thanks for taking him tonight." Kasey glanced up. "We were having a good date night until we got that text."
"It was no problem. Warren is there now with them, but they'll probably never know we left. They were out cold hours ago," Beau assured him.
"Good." Noam reached for Kasey's hand.
Bryon listened, but it only caused pain. These guys were close. They were family. No matter what happened, they stuck by each other. This was going to kill the team, but even more so, it was going to kill Xander.
Dyson and Xander were closer than brothers. They'd been through hell together. Being in the military, then coming home to take on Xander's father, they'd seen the worst of the world, and that was before he'd asked them to join STK. Thank God that Xander had Matt and Faith to keep him grounded. Had this happened before Xander married, he hated to think what would have happened. At least now, there was hope that Xander could keep it together.
"Bryon, what can we do for you?" Kasey asked.
Bryon shook his head. "There's nothing. Until we see the charges, see if there's bail, see how serious this is going to be. My guess is he'll be held on no bail. I can't see them letting him out. The crimes are too violent, the so-called-victims too many. Go home and I'll be in touch once I know more. There's nothing any of us can do tonight."
They all stared at him, but none of them moved. He didn't expect them to. As much as he hated it, they were in this together. They wouldn't go home until they knew more.
His cell phone pulled his attention from the group. He glanced down to see who was calling, not surprised to see Becca. Of course, she would be the only one who listened to him when he said not to come in if this ever happened. The one person he wanted there by his side. The one person who could help him focus. "Hey, love," he answered.
"Hey, you okay?" Her soft voice eased some of his tension as he walked into the living room for some privacy.
"Not really. I don't know what to do, Babe." He sank down on the couch, his head in his hands.
"You've planned for this. I've heard you and Carter talk about it for years. We hoped it would never happen, but now it has. We'll get him out, but you've got to stay calm. This isn't your fault, Bry. It just happened. It's no one's fault. Promise me, you aren't blaming yourself."
"I promised these guys I'd take care of them. I brought them into this, Becca. It all comes back to me."
"It doesn't. Listen, we know there is nothing you can do tonight. Go to bed, wait until we see the charges tomorrow, then put your plan into action. Do you want me to come over?"
Bryon wanted nothing more than to hold Becca and forget everything, but he couldn't. "No, there's no point in both of us being stressed here. You have to work in the morning. Go back to sleep and I'll see you when you get off tomorrow afternoon, okay?"
"Alright, I love you. Call me if anything changes or you need me."
"Love you too." He hung up, flopping back on the couch. All he could think about was what Dyson was going through. Jail wasn't fun, and there was nothing he could do to save him right now.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER THREE
Dyson sat in the pit. It was the holding area where you went after they patted you down and were doing the paperwork to officially book you into jail. He'd been here a few times, but never for anything serious, and never for more than a day.
This was going to be a much longer stay.
He hadn't said anything since his arrest other than his name. It was up to the state to build a case against him, and while he was sure they would, he wasn't going to give them any help in doing it.
When he saw the cops with their guns pointed at him, he didn't resist, there was no point. To fight made it look as if he was doing something wrong, and in his eyes, he hadn't done anything wrong. What he'd done had been deserved. The fuckers he went after deserved worse than he did to them.
Several of the cops at the long desk that lined the outer wall stared at him, whispering to each other. He could imagine what they were saying. The 'castrator' as they called him was infamous, someone they'd been trying to catch for years. Well, not really trying. Rumor had it that no one was really searching for the castrator, because they understood why he did what he did, but they'd always wondered who was behind it.
Now he'd be the one to take the fall. All of the castrations over the years would all fall on him. It didn't matter that he only did a small portion of them, they would put it all on him.
Honestly, it was probably best it was him. Kasey and Xander were in relationships, both had kids. At least with him being locked up, it didn't hurt anyone else. There was no one waiting at home who'd miss him.
Hell, there had never been anyone at home to miss him, even when he'd been a kid.
He smiled at the cops as they looked at him. It was like they were trying to decide if he was sane or not. He'd been polite, acted normal, hadn't caused any problems so far, but in their minds, he was a violent criminal. It was probably easy to see him that way, with all the tattoos.
It didn't matter. He was stuck here. Even if they did agree with what he'd done, they couldn't turn their heads from it now. He'd been caught red-handed. He had the lock pick on him, the bloody knife, the torch. There was enough evidence there to make a case that would send him to prison for years.
Now that he had a chance to calm down and wasn't lost in the rush of the arrest, he thought about the plan they'd always had in case this happened. It wasn't very promising. Sure, he'd get out in time, but then what? Anything was better than spending his life in prison, but his fear of what would come after was strong.
"Dyson Fowler," one of the officers called.
He stood, walking up to her. "You'll need to go to medical and fingerprinting. This way." The older officer led him to another section of the booking area and pointed for him to sit again.
By the time he'd talked to medical, gone through booking, spoke to pretrial release and been denied, and then forced to strip, shower, bend over, spread his ass cheeks, and cough, his mood was foul. Glad the process was done, he took the bright red jumpsuit they gave him, quickly changed, and happily followed the guard out of booking and down a long hallway that led to the pods where the cells were.
He wasn't shocked they were putting him in the maximum-security section. His crimes were severe and many. He took the blanket and sheet that were given to him, then headed off to the cell where he was probably going to be spending the next few weeks.
As he stepped into his cell, he eyed his new cellmate. He looked young, maybe early twenties. Dyson knew better than to try and guess what he was in for. If it hadn't been the middle of the night, and if his mood wasn't shot, he might ask. Instead, he took the empty bottom bunk, using the sheet as a pillow and curling the blanket around him.
He lay in the darkness, unable to sleep, wondering what the team was thinking now. He hoped they weren't in a panic. This was the risk they took. It was worth it. He thought about all the pedophiles they'd caught, they'd stopped. It had been worth all of this. Even if he did end up spending the rest of his life in prison for it, he would do it again if given the chance.
Around five in the morning, the lights snapped on, and the pod came to life. He stretched, preparing himself for the hell that was about to come. First was getting to know his roommate who had done little more than glance his way as he'd first come into the cell.
"Hey, I'm Dyson."
"Patrick." The guy nodded. "You here for long?"
"Probably. At least until court and they transfer me to prison." He glanced out the small window on the cell door, trying to get the layout of everything.
"Me too. Second-degree murder. What about you?"
"Right now, they have me on breaking and entering, illegal distribution of a controlled substance, and assault. I'm sure that will change as the day goes on." He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Heroin?" The guy asked.
Dyson laughed. "No, it wasn't anything like that. It's nothing I want to talk about. The cell has ears, ya know." He pointed to the small speaker that each cell had. He knew for a fact the guards listened in, hoping to learn information. He wasn't going to help them. He doubted they would figure out what was in that syringe anytime soon, and when they did, it wouldn't matter because there would be all the castration charges to hold him on instead.
"Yeah, don't blame you." Patrick sat down on the single seat that connected to a metal desk in the corner.
"How long have you been in?" Dyson sat down on his bunk.
"Five weeks. I wish they'd just move me to the prison. I hear it's a lot better there. Waiting out my court dates could take a year or more." Patrick nodded to the cell door. "Breakfast is coming. I can hear them. You been here before?"
"Yeah, a couple of times, just for a night for drunk and disorderly shit. Nothing major like this."
"Any chance you'll get bailed?"
Dyson laughed. "That's doubtful. I'm here to stay."
The small slot in the door opened, and one tray was pushed through. Patrick stood and grabbed it, handing it to Dyson before taking his own and going back to sit. "Food here sucks, and there's not a lot of it. My sister puts money on my books, but it doesn't go too far. We'll order commissary tomorrow and get it Friday."
Dyson wondered who would put money on his books, if anyone. The police would track everyone who had anything to do with him. He'd had fifty bucks on him when he'd been arrested. That would get him through for a while, but having to buy shampoo, soap, and other stuff would cut into that quick. And if he was going to be here long, he wanted a fucking pillow. Leave it to him to get arrested in a jail that didn't supply them. "I'm not sure if anyone will put shit on my books. I have money, but anyone who comes in to put it on my books will become an instant suspect. I don't know how much support I'll have."
"What the fuck did you do?" Patrick stared at him.
Dyson picked at the powdered scrambled eggs on his tray. "I saved a shit load of kids from being abused."
"Well fuck, can't blame you for that. You should be a hero, not a criminal." Patrick ate a burned piece of sausage. "Not too far off from me. I killed my sister's husband. They say I should have stayed out of it and let the police deal with him, but the thing is, she'd gotten a restraining order, she jumped through all the legal hoops she could. When my sister showed up at my place, covered in blood, I'd had enough. I don't regret what I did. I may spend the next fifty years locked up, but I know that fucker will never lay a hand on her again."
Dyson thought back to how he and Xander had gone after Xander's dad. It wasn't much different. The big difference was that Bryon had stopped them from killing Xander's father, and taken them under his wing, inviting them to join STK. Things could have gone differently had Bryon not come along. They'd planned to kill the man after making him suffer.
Bryon had saved them. He'd always been there for them after that. No matter how bad they fucked up, Bryon bailed them out. He had no doubt Bryon would do what he could yet again, but this time, he wasn't even sure Bryon had the ability to save him. Dyson looked at Patrick. "You should
n't be facing charges for that. You saved your sister's life. They have to take that into consideration."
"They are. It's why I'm not rushing to go to trial. My attorney is working to get the charges lessened. If I can get it down to manslaughter, then there's a chance I'll just serve a little time, maybe even walk out if I'm lucky." Patrick shrugged. "Whatever happens, happens. I don't give a fuck as long as my sister's safe."
Dyson knew that was a lie. Everyone in jail gave a fuck about how long they were going to be there. At least until they found out, then they would settle in and deal with it. It was the not knowing that was hard. The wondering if you'd ever taste freedom again. Dyson was already feeling it. He'd only been there a few hours, and already he was picturing this as the rest of his life. "Not easy fighting the system, but it sounds like you got a shitty deal. I can't believe anyone would punish you for saving your sister. Fuckers who beat on women and kids deserve what they get."
"Yeah, you'd think, but still here we both sit." Patrick tossed his milk carton in the trash.
"Yeah, this shit is going to get old fast. You got any books or anything I can borrow?" Dyson asked.
Patrick nodded. "Yeah, not sure what you like, but my sister sent in some different books. You can have a look. I get so bored, I'll read anything." He also gestured to one of two small boxes under Dyson's bunk. "I've also got paper and envelopes if you need to write anyone, but you'll need money on your books for stamps. I know it's hard the first week. You never know if they'll recategorize you and move you to another pod, you don't have shit with you so you're bored. Just ask if I can help with anything."
"Thanks." Dyson set his empty tray on the floor beside the door. "I don't have anyone to write to or call, so I'm good."