Beautiful Redemption

by Jamie McGuire

  I inwardly cringed. I knew Thomas was dying inside.

  "Dad told us we couldn't go into law enforcement. Mom didn't want it!"

  Thomas sighed. "Says the guy who's majoring in criminal justice. You're wasting time, Travis. Abby will be awake soon."

  "You fucked us all! You son of a bitch!" Travis screamed, punching at the air.

  "Are you finished?" Thomas asked, his voice even.

  "I won't lie to Abby. If I have to lie to her, it's a deal-breaker."

  "So, you're not taking the deal?" Thomas asked.

  Travis laced his hands on top of his head, looking distraught. "I can't lie to my wife." His arms fell to his sides, and his eyes glossed over. "Please don't make me do this, Tommy." His bottom lip quivered. "You're my brother."

  Thomas stared him in the eyes, speechless.

  I shifted to my other leg, keeping a confident stare. "Then, maybe you shouldn't have engaged in an illegal activity that caused the deaths of a hundred and thirty-two college kids."

  Travis's face crumbled, and then his head fell forward. After a full minute, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me. "I'll think about it," he said, walking toward the door.

  "Travis," Thomas said, taking a step.

  "I said I'll think about it."

  I touched Thomas's arm and then startled when the door slammed.

  Thomas grabbed his knees, gasping for air, and then he collapsed onto the floor. I sat on the floor beside him, tightly holding him, while he quietly sobbed.

  I nodded to Anthony again, insisting that he pour Thomas another drink. He hadn't spoken after Travis agreed to recruitment or when we drove from the hotel to the airport. He hadn't spoken a word during the plane ride. He'd merely gestured that we share a cab for the short ride to our building.

  I hadn't asked, but I'd told him that we were going to Cutter's. It had been easy to convince him of things when he refused to protest.

  "Jesus," Val said quietly as she maneuvered her purse off her shoulder. She sat down. "He looks like hell."

  Marks sat on the other side of Thomas, allowing his friend to get drunk in peace. He popped a few peanuts into his mouth and stared at the television.

  "He'll be okay," I said. "How's Sawyer?"

  Val made a face. "How would I know?"

  "Really?" I deadpanned. "Are you really going to try to lie to me?"

  She glared at the back of Thomas's head. "Maddox told you?" she hissed.

  "Yes, and he's had a shitty weekend, so you can't be mad at him. I, however, can be extremely pissed at you for holding back something so monumental when you've insisted on knowing every morsel of information about me."

  Val pouted. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to know. I don't want anyone to know. I wish it never happened."

  "It might help you to forget if you didn't live with him," I said.

  "He won't sign the divorce papers, and if I move out, I lose the condo."

  "So?"

  "I lived there first!"

  "Move in with me," I said.

  "Really?" she asked, her eyes softening. "You would do that for me?"

  "Yes. What a nightmare. And besides, it would be nice to share the bills. I could buy a car, and until then, ride with you to work."

  "I appreciate that," Val said, tilting her head to the side. "I really do, but I'm not losing the condo. It's mine, and his ass is moving, not me."

  "Why don't you want to ride to work with me anymore?" Thomas slurred.

  It was the first time he'd spoken in hours, and the sound of his voice surprised me as if he'd just shown up.

  "I do," I said. "I just meant that if Val moved in, it would be a good trade."

  His shirtsleeves were rolled almost to his elbows, and his tie was loose and hanging haphazardly from his neck. He'd had so much to drink that his eyes were half closed.

  "What's wrong with riding with me?"

  "You're moving in with Liis?" Marks asked, leaning backward to look at Val.

  "No," Val said.

  "Why not?" Marks asked. "She offered, and you said no? Why would you say no?"

  "Because it's my condo, and I'm not giving it to Charlie!"

  Marks opened his mouth to speak.

  Before he could say anything, Thomas leaned closer to me. "You're too good for my carpool now?"

  I rolled my eyes. "No." I looked to Val. "Who is Charlie?"

  "Sawyer," she sneered.

  "Oh, I think you are," Thomas said. "I think you think you're too good for a lot of things."

  "Okay," I snipped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I used to do that to my mother, and it had driven her absolutely insane. She would cuss at me in Japanese, which she never, ever did, unless it was in response to that single two-syllable word. In her eyes, nothing was more disrespectful. "Just get drunk, Thomas, so we can take you home, and Marks can tuck you in."

  "It's Agent Maddox to you."

  "Fine. I'll call you that when you're not slobbering drunk."

  "You forget you brought me here," he said before taking a gulp.

  Val and Marks traded glances.

  "Would you like another drink?" I asked Thomas.

  He looked offended. "No. It's time for us to go home."

  I raised an eyebrow. "You mean, it's time for you to go home."

  "So, everything you said this weekend was bullshit?" he asked.

  "No, I recall being very truthful."

  His nose wrinkled. "You came home with me the last time we had drinks here together."

  Marks winced. "Hey, Thomas, maybe we should--"

  "No, you came home with me," I said, trying very hard not to get defensive.

  "What does that even mean?" Thomas asked. "Speak English!"

  "I'm speaking English. I just don't speak drunk," I said.

  The disgusted look on his face only grew more severe. "That's not even funny." He looked at Marks. "She's not even funny. And that's bad because I'm drunk," he said, pointing at himself. "I think everything's funny."

  Anthony held up his hand, a blue rag hanging from it. "I don't mean to poke the bear, but I've got one nerve left, and Maddox is dry-humping it. So, could you all move it along?"

  Thomas threw back his head and laughed, and then he pointed at Anthony. "Now, that's funny!"

  I touched Thomas's arm. "He's right. C'mon. I'll walk you to your condo."

  "No!" he said, pulling his arm away.

  I held out my hands. "Do you want me to walk you or not?"

  "I'm asking my girlfriend to come home with me!"

  Val's mouth fell open, and Marks's eyes bounced between Thomas and me.

  I slightly shook my head. "Thomas, we're back in San Diego. The assignment is over."

  "So, that's it then?" He stood up, weaving.

  Marks stood with him, readying his hands to catch Thomas if he fell.

  I stood up, too, motioning to Anthony that we needed the check. He had already printed it out, so he grabbed it from beside the register and placed it on the counter.

  I scribbled my name and reached for Thomas's arm. "Okay, let's go."

  Thomas pulled his arm away. "You're dumping me, remember?"

  "Fine. Can Marks walk you?" I asked.

  Thomas pointed at me. "No!" He chuckled, reached for Marks's shoulder, and they walked toward the door.

  I blew my hair from my face.

  "I want to hear more about this weekend," Val said. "But I'll let it go this time."

  We joined the boys on the sidewalk, and then we watched as Marks struggled to keep Thomas walking in a straight line. The four of us took the elevator to the sixth floor, and Val and I watched as Marks fished Thomas's keys out of his pocket and opened his door.

  "Okay, buddy. Tell the girls good night."

  "Wait." Thomas grabbed the doorjamb while Marks pulled at his middle from inside the condo. "Wait!"

  Marks released him, and Thomas nearly fell forward. I reached for him and helped him to stand upright.

  "You promised
you'd stay with me," he said. The misery in his eyes was unbearable.

  I glanced at Val, who was quickly shaking her head, before I turned back to Thomas.

  "Thomas..." I began. Then, I looked to Val and Marks. "I've got him. You guys should head home."

  "You sure?" Marks asked.

  I nodded, and after a few glances over her shoulder, Val took the elevator with Marks to the lobby.

  Thomas hugged me, desperately pulling on me. "I'll sleep on the floor. I just feel like a piece of shit. My whole family hates me, and they should. They should."

  "C'mon," I said, walking him inside. I kicked the door shut, reached back to lock the bolt, and then helped Thomas to his bed.

  He fell onto his back and covered his eyes with his hands. "The room is spinning."

  "Put your foot on the floor. That helps."

  "My feet are on the floor," he slurred.

  I yanked him down and then placed his feet on the rug. "Now, they are."

  He began to laugh, and then his eyebrows pulled in. "What did I do? What the fuck did I do, Liis?"

  "Hey," I said, climbing into the bed next to him. "Just go to sleep. It will be different tomorrow."

  He turned, burying his face into my chest. I reached up for a pillow, propping my head. Thomas sucked in a breath, and I hugged him tight.

  "I fucked up," he said. "I really fucked up."

  "We'll make it right."

  "How can we make it right if you're done with me?"

  "Thomas, stop. We'll fix everything tomorrow. Just sleep."

  He nodded and then took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. When his breathing evened out, I knew he was asleep. I lifted my hand to glance at my watch, and I rolled my eyes. We would both be exhausted in the morning.

  I hugged him again, and then I leaned down to kiss his cheek before slowly drifting off to sleep.

  I TAPPED MY NAILS ON THE COMPUTER as I listened to the recorded conversation coming through my headphones. The Japanese was broken, mostly slang, but Agent Grove had gotten the numbers wrong again. This time, he had even falsely identified a location as a supposed vacant building next to a hospital when it was actually next to a medical professional building seven miles away.

  I picked up the receiver of my landline and hit the first speed-dial button.

  "Office of the Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Constance speaking."

  "Agent Lindy for Agent Maddox, please."

  "I'll put you through," Constance said.

  Her reply took me off guard. She usually at least checked with him first.

  "Liis," Thomas answered. His voice was soft and tinged with surprise.

  "I'm listening to these Yakuza recordings. Grove"--I glanced over my shoulder and then away from my open door--"is getting brazen, almost sloppy. He's falsely identifying locations. I feel like something is getting ready to go down."

  "I'm working on it."

  "We have to remove him before he gets wind of Travis's recruitment anyway. What are we waiting for?"

  "A staged accident. That's the only way Tarou won't know we're onto him and Benny. Otherwise, we could jeopardize the entire operation."

  "I see."

  "What are you doing for lunch?" he asked.

  "I, uh...Fuzzy's with Val."

  "Okay." He chuckled nervously. "What about dinner?"

  I sighed. "I'm playing catch-up. I'll be working late tonight."

  "Me, too. I'll take you home, and we can grab take-out on the way."

  I looked out the wall of windows to the squad room. Val was on the phone, having no clue that we now had plans for lunch.

  "I'll let you know," I said. "The odds of us finishing at the same time are slim."

  "Just let me know," Thomas said before the line clicked.

  I placed the receiver on its base and sank back into my throne.

  Once again, the headphones covered my ears, and I pressed Play on the keyboard.

  The morning had felt like any other, except I'd felt tired and woken up alone in Thomas's bed. He had knocked on my door as I was getting dressed for work. When I had opened the door, he'd given me a bagel and cream cheese with a coffee.

  The ride to work had been awkward, and my thoughts had led to researching car dealerships and dreading the possibility that I might have to resort to flying back to Chicago and driving my Camry all the way to San Diego.

  Just as the recording was getting interesting, my door flew open and then slammed shut. Thomas flicked back the side of his suit jacket and put a hand on his hip, desperately trying to think of something to say.

  I yanked off my headphones. "What?" My mind raced with different awful scenarios, all leading back to Thomas's family.

  "You're avoiding me, and Constance said you were on the phone with a car dealership when she walked by. What's going on?"

  "Uh...I need a car?"

  "Why? I drive you to and from work."

  "I do go to other places besides work, Thomas."

  He walked to my desk and put his palms flat on the smooth wood, looking me in the eyes. "Be straight with me."

  "You said you were going to explain more about Camille. How about now?" I asked, crossing my arms.

  He looked behind him. "What? Here?"

  "The door is closed."

  Thomas sat in a chair. "I'm sorry I called you Camille. We were talking about her, tensions were high, and I could hear her and Trent laughing. It was an honest mistake."

  "You're right, Jackson. I forgive you."

  Thomas's cheeks flushed. "I feel terrible."

  "You should."

  "You're not really done, Liis, not after one stupid mistake."

  "I don't think we ever really got started, did we?"

  "I have some pretty strong feelings here. I think you do, too. I know you don't like to be out of your comfort zone, but this is just as frightening for me. I assure you."

  "I'm not afraid anymore. I took the leap. You just didn't go with me."

  His expression changed. He was looking inside of me, into the depths I couldn't hide. "You're running. I scare the hell out of you."

  "Stop."

  His jaw muscles danced under his skin. "I won't chase you, Liis. If you don't want me, I'll let you walk."

  "Good," I said with a relieved smile. "Saves us both a lot of time."

  He begged me with his eyes. "I didn't say I wanted you to."

  "Thomas," I said, leaning forward, "I'm busy. Please let me know if you have any questions about my FD-three-oh-two. I'll leave it with Constance by end of day."

  He stared at me in disbelief and then stood, turning for the door. He twisted the knob but hesitated, looking over his shoulder. "You can still catch a ride with me to and from work until you figure out the car situation."

  "Thank you," I said. "But I've got something worked out with Val."

  He shook his head and blinked, and then he opened the door before closing it behind him. He turned right instead of left toward his office, and I knew he was going to the fitness room.

  In the time it took Thomas to clear the security doors, Val scurried into my office and sat down. "That looked ugly."

  I rolled my eyes. "It's done."

  "What's done?"

  "We...kind of had a thing over the weekend. It's over."

  "Already? He looks miserable. What did you do to him?"

  "Why is it automatically my fault?" I snapped. When Val arched an eyebrow, I continued, "I agreed to try something similar to a relationship, and then he admitted to still being in love with Camille. Then, he called me Camille, so..." I played with the pencils in their holder, trying to keep from getting angry about it all over again.

  "He called Camille?" she asked, confused.

  "No, he called me Camille--as in, called me by her name by mistake."

  "In bed?" she shrieked.

  "No," I said, my face twisting into disgust. "On the beach. We were arguing. I'm still not sure about what."

  "Oh, this sounds promising. I
guess we should have known two control freaks weren't going to get along."

  "That's what he said, too. Oh, by the way, you and I have a lunch date."

  "We do?"

  "That's what I told Thomas, so yes."

  "But I have plans with Marks."

  "Oh no, you owe me."

  "Fine," she said, resting her elbow on my desk and then pointing at me. "But you're going to give details about the whole weekend."

  "Sure. Right after you tell me all about your marriage."

  She rolled her eyes. "No!" she whined. "See? This is why I didn't want you to know."

  "Realizing that not everyone wants to spill their every thought, feeling, and secret is a good lesson for you to learn. Glad I finally have some leverage."

  She glared at me. "You're a bad friend. See you at lunch."

  I smiled at her, situating my headphones back onto my ears, and Val returned to her desk.

  The rest of the day went on as usual as did the day after that.

  Val would wait for me every morning, right outside the building. The better days were when I wouldn't catch Thomas in the elevator. For the most part, he would be polite. He stopped coming to my office, instead directing me through emails from Constance.

  We collected evidence against Grove, and in turn, used Tarou's trust in him to gain intelligence. The answers hid within the small talk and smug comments between Grove and Tarou and his associates, like how gullible the Bureau was and how easy our system was to get around if one knew the right person.

  Exactly two weeks after Thomas and I had given Polanski the disputably good news about Travis, I found myself in Cutter's alone, bantering with Anthony.

  "So, I told him, 'Bitch, you don't even know me,'" he said, cocking his head to one side.

  I offered a weak clap and then held up my glass. "Well done."

  "Sorry that I got ratchet for a second, but that is what I told him."

  "I think you handled it well," I said before taking another sip.

  Anthony leaned over and jerked up his head once. "Why don't you come in here with Maddox anymore? Why doesn't Maddox come in here at all anymore?"

  "Because the women of the world are systematically ruining his favorite places for him."

  "Oh, that's lame. And they say I'm a drama queen." His eyes widened for a beat.

  "Who are they?"

  "You know," he said, dismissively waving his hand. "They." He pointed at me. "You all need to fix it. It's screwing with my tips." He glanced up and then back down. "Uh-oh, Aqua Net, eleven o'clock."

  I didn't turn. I didn't need to. Sawyer was breathing in my ear in much less time than it should have taken him to walk to my chosen stool.