by Ben Follows
He had also asked her a few questions about herself and how her relationship with Will was going. She had been honest and told him that it wasn't going great. Johnson had given some advice on marriage, although he didn't seem to know much more than the average person. He did let slip that he had been divorced three times, so maybe he knew something about how to mess up a marriage.
Mason Franklin brought The New York Times into the office and shook them both awake. Johnson was sitting in his office chair, his head flopped onto his chest. Frankie was lying on the couch, her long legs splayed over the edge of the couch.
"Front page," muttered Mason, who seemed just as sleep-deprived as the rest of them. He had been managing the tech teams and the case from the FBI offices. "By the way," he said, "I think we've managed to track down some of the money. We recovered Lauren's laptop from her bag, and we were able to use her phone to get into some of the accounts. We should know where the money was coming from in the next few hours."
"Thanks," said Frankie. "It's nice to hear some good news."
"I'll let you know when we get it," said Mason. He turned and walked out of the room.
"Front page," said Johnson, looking at the paper, as he rubbed his eyes and got himself a glass of water from a jug that was sitting on his desk. "That's never a good sign."
Frankie stood and stretched, then walked over to the chair across from where Johnson was sitting. Johnson poured himself a cup of water and downed it in a single gulp.
"You read it first," he said. "Give me a second."
Frankie took the paper and unfolded it. Luckily, Nolowinski's story wasn't the main story, and it was below the fold.
The headline read, "Why the FBI should fire Curtis Mackley."
"Oh boy," said Frankie. "This is going to be interesting."
She turned the paper and showed the headline to Johnson. He let out a deep breath.
"That's a specific attack," said Johnson. "I'm beginning to see the hatred you and Curtis have toward this woman."
"No kidding," said Frankie.
She unfolded the paper and began to read. It was labeled as an opinion piece.
"Curtis Mackley might not be a name that immediately comes to mind. He's an FBI special agent who has been working for the FBI for almost eight years. He has worked high profile cases all over the country, but this article will focus on two cases which make a strong case for the fact that the FBI is protecting him, and that he should be fired.
The two cases are a recent case in the small town of Blind River, where both Agent Mackley and I originate from, and the current case he is working on, the investigation into the alleged suicide of General Henry Mavis which has dominated the news cycle the last few days.
As I cover in my upcoming Book, The Tragedy of Blind River: How One Reporter Tried to Save a Town from Implosion, Blind River is a town which was controlled by the drug trade for almost a decade, and more importantly a drug lord known as Sam Marino, who is currently incarcerated in a Florida Prison. Until recently, he was imprisoned in the Blind River Penitentiary, but due to a successful escape attempt, while Agent Mackley and his partner, Frankie Lassiter were in the town investigating a series of disappearances, he was moved.
Although the FBI claim they acted per FBI protocols, this couldn't be further from the truth. At least six people died because of the FBI's involvement, including two police officers, one FBI agent, and the local police chief. Not to mention the fact that, I believe, they framed the killings on one Robert Randall, an upstanding citizen with no prior criminal record.
Why has there been no punishments for these actions? Why haven't Agent Mackley and Agent Lassiter been held responsible for these crimes? The Official FBI line is that they did nothing wrong.
I disagree. A source close to the case claims girls are still going missing in Blind River, and the FBI has pretended these cases haven't been happening. The same source tells me that Curtis Mackley's father, the late Police Chief Gordon Mackley, was complicit in the drug trade and that Curtis himself was a significant part of the drug trade as a child.
Is this really an organization that we want to be investigating the alleged suicide of one of our nation's heroes? Are these the people we want investigating it?
We need to mobilize. Call your congressman, call your local representatives, call the FBI, and tell them that we as Americans will not stand by while Curtis Mackley and Frankie Lassiter make our country a worse place.
Robert Randall was a good man, and they are dragging his name through the mud. Probably to make sure that Robert Randall son's false arrest is pushed under the rug. Robert Randall II, better known as Bobby, was also among those who died due to the FBI's incompetence.
It all seems too convenient, too perfect.
Demand answers.
Demand resolution.
Demand the firing of Curtis Mackley and Frankie Lassiter.
Demand a full investigation of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Below the article was a brief profile of Natasha along with the name and release date of her book.
Frankie handed the newspaper back across the table to Director Johnson, who took it and read through it.
"Well," said Johnson as he finished reading the article. "Isn't that interesting?"
"It's all bullshit. You know that, sir?"
"Of course," said Johnson. "I trust all my agents. You wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't outstanding agents. I have heard both your and Curtis's version of the events in Blind River. No one is being kidnapped or attacked in Blind River since Robert Randall's death. I've been keeping tabs on it. You two weren't perfect, but you did well enough. There were circumstances you could never have anticipated, like Marino escaping from prison or the cops murdering people in prison."
Frankie sighed. "Speaking of Marino, did you notice that Natasha never mentioned he was her source?"
Johnson nodded. "I think that Marino must have told her a lot more than that," said Johnson. "She's holding it back for when people demand the follow-up article."
"Agreed," said Frankie. "I'm going to get some sleep. Wake me up when we get something to do, especially if Mason finds anything about where the money was going. I'll grab a copy of the paper and meet up with Curtis."
"Maybe you shouldn't tell him about this," said Johnson.
Frankie stopped in the doorway and looked back at Johnson. "Why do you say that?"
Johnson shrugged. "He's been through a lot. I don't think this is something he should see right now."
"I thought the therapist said he was back to normal," said Frankie. "I thought you said he could handle everything that can be thrown at him."
"Yeah," said Johnson. "Of course. Go on and show it to him. He's fine."
Frankie stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and walked out of the office.
Chapter 44
"Amber works here," said Curtis, eating a small cup of yogurt.
Melanie looked up from her food. "What?"
They were sitting in chairs across from the room where Sophie was being held. They had each had a few brief spurts of unrestful sleep. The food was terrible, but it did the job.
"Amber works here," Curtis repeated once he had finished his yogurt. "She's working in administration. We spoke last night."
"Is that the first time you've seen her since . . .?"
"Yeah," said Curtis. "It went slightly better than the worse it could have gone."
"That's positive I guess," said Melanie. "What did she say?"
"She didn't apologize," said Curtis, "for the lies she told me. She didn't thank me for the money I’d been sending. She seemed like she was guilting me because I had gone into the FBI and not gotten a higher paying job to send her more money."
"I'm surprised she never sued you for child support."
"I'd be shocked if she didn't try. A lawyer probably told her it was stupid. She seems to be doing well."
As they were speaking, Dr. Patel walked up to the
m with a stern expression.
"What is it?" said Curtis, looking up at her.
"I won't bore you with pre-amble," said Dr. Patel. "I know you just want to know what's going on with your daughter. She had another seizure last night.
"So what?" said Curtis, although his heart was pounding in his chest.
"We need to perform surgery," said Patel. "We need to perform a lumbar puncture and remove some spinal fluid from her back. We need to test the fluid for any issues to the central nervous system. It isn't dangerous and shouldn't take more than a few hours. Hopefully, we'll be able to rule out anything more dangerous than febrile seizures, which should subside soon."
Curtis looked over at Melanie. She hadn't spoken and had turned completely white. Her eyes were shaking, as though she was just about to break down into tears. He couldn't blame her. He thought he might break down as well.
Curtis took a deep breath and looked from Melanie to Dr. Patel.
"Do it," he said. "I trust you. Whatever you think is best, do it."
"Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Mackley," said Dr. Patel. "I'll need you to sign some things and make sure your insurance will cover it."
"Of course," said Curtis. His mind was reeling, and it felt like the desk in front of him was getting further away.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus, but he could feel his focus waning.
Chapter 45
Frankie arrived at the hospital around ten AM.
Curtis was at the far end of the hallway with Melanie beside him.
Frankie walked up and cleared her throat. She had to do it twice to get their attention. Curtis turned toward her. He had evidently been crying before she had come in, but he rubbed his eyes and smiled at her.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," said Curtis. "Sophie is getting a lumbar puncture."
"I’m sure she’ll be fine."
"Thanks."
Frankie turned to Melanie. "Hi, Melanie."
Melanie turned toward her, gave her a curt nod, and then turned back to the window.
"How's the case?" said Curtis. He spoke softly so Melanie wouldn't be able to hear him, but he didn't think that it would matter. She was so focused on Sophie that she probably wouldn't hear anything Frankie had to say.
Frankie handed him the New York Times she was holding. Curtis opened it and read the headline which Natasha had written. He sighed then folded up the newspaper.
"What else?"
"A few things," said Frankie. "Debra Coleman has been let free and has apparently contracted a private security company to protect her from the FBI and the people they robbed. We found those people, by the way. I just met with Mason. We believe the money that Wilson and the others were getting was from a mercenary group called Eaton Enterprises. It's run from an estate owned by the Eaton family. It's about an hour north of here. I'm going to go check it out."
"That sounds right," said Curtis, "based on what Jason told me. They had his daughter if she isn't already dead."
"I'll do what I can to save her," said Frankie. She gestured toward the newspaper. "That's going to make it difficult."
"Just prove they had her," said Curtis. "It fits too perfectly. You weren't there to see the look in Jason’s eyes while he was telling me about it. I think he was genuinely trying to relate to me as a parent. It was a strange feeling, something I thought I understood for a long time. When we were in Blind River and talking to the parents of the missing girls, I thought I understood what they were going through. I thought I was capable of relating to what they were going through. I wasn't even close. It's so much worse than I could ever have imagined."
Curtis turned and looked at Melanie, who had put the back of her hand in front of her mouth like she was barely containing sobs.
Curtis walked back to Melanie and held her close. Melanie's sobs slowed. Frankie felt like she was intruding on something she had no place in. She looked at Curtis, and he looked back at her with a nod and a smile.
Frankie walked up and put a hand on his shoulder. Curtis turned back to her.
"Let me know when Sophie's alright," said Frankie. "I'll pray for her."
"Thanks," said Curtis. "Keep me posted on what happens with the rest of the case."
"I will," said Frankie. "Focus on this. It's more important."
"Of course," said Curtis. "But. . ."
"I'll let you know what happens," said Frankie. "It should be over soon."
"Thanks," said Curtis.
Frankie turned on her heel and walked away. As she stepped into the elevator, she looked back at them. Curtis looked back at her with a worried look.
She knew Curtis well enough to know what was going through his mind. He wanted so badly to be part of this case, to be part of something that he could control and was an expert in. And yet, he was torn because of his obligation to his daughter and his wife.
Frankie knew Curtis was torn between his promises to Melanie and his promise to Jason that he would save his daughter.
If they discovered Jason's daughter was dead, Curtis would never forgive himself. But if something happened to Sophie and he wasn't there, he would never forgive himself even more.
Frankie just had to do her job and make sure none of that mattered.
She left the hospital and got into her car. She was sweaty, and her clothes were feeling gross. She had slept in her clothes on the couch in Johnson's office and didn't have a change of clothes at the office.
She drove home.
She pulled into the driveway and was surprised to see Will's car was still there. Usually, he would have left to the academy hours ago. She didn't want to talk to him, but she sucked it up and parked behind him in the driveway, reasoning that she would just walk into the house and grab her clothes, then walk right out.
She walked up to the door and unlocked it. The door swung open.
Her mouth dropped open.
There were burned out candles lining a pathway leading into the kitchen. A stereo was sitting on the table.
She slowly stepped into the house and walked through the path of candles to the kitchen. There were two wine bottles on the table, alongside fine glasses and china plates. She grabbed the bottle and smiled. It was her favorite, and it was expensive, easily over $500 a bottle. And Will had bought two of them.
On a hunch, she walked over to the fridge and opened it.
There, sitting in the center of the fridge, were two plates piled high with Frankie's favorite foods. Lobster, mashed potatoes with chives and bacon bits, and Greek salad. She felt an upwelling of emotion, then turned and walked to the bedroom.
The bedroom door was open. Will was sprawled on the bed, fully clothed in a tuxedo, on top of the quilt. A bit of drool was coming from his mouth and pooling on the pillow.
Frankie stood in the doorway, looking at the man she had married eight years prior.
She sighed and walked up to him. She shook his shoulder.
Will jerked awake and rolled over, blinking to clear away the sleep.
"What? Who's there?" he muttered, still half asleep. "Frankie?"
"Hey," said Frankie.
"Frankie," said Will. "I'm sorry." He pushed himself, so he was sitting against the bedframe. "I'm sorry."
"About what?" said Frankie. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. You did all this work assuming I would be home last night, but I ended up sleeping at the FBI offices. How late did you stay up waiting?"
"I don't know," said Will. "Four AM probably. I helped myself to some wine and lost track of time." He laughed to himself. "I booked today off work today because I thought that if we wanted to stay up late last night, I didn't want to be tired all day."
Frankie took a seat on the bed beside him. "Why did you do all this?"
Will sighed. "I love you, Frankie."
"Will...I don't know--"
"Please," said Will, "just let me say what I have to say. I wanted to say this over dinner. I got your favorite wine and food? Did you see that?"
"Yeah, " said Frankie. "It looked delicious."
"Look," said Will, wiping off his mouth, "I understand you weren't happy with how I acted when I first got out into the field."
"It's not--"
"Frankie, please. Let me finish what I have to say."
She gestured for him to continue.
Will nodded. "We were so excited when we graduated the academy and got married. First time I was out in the field, I messed up. I was lucky to get out alive. I couldn't bring myself to take a human life, even if the cost was my own. I've been working in the academy ever since. Sometimes I'm jealous of the places you and Curtis go. But every time I consider going back out into the field, I have a nightmare about that junkie running at me with a knife."
Frankie looked at him. "Why haven't you told me this?"
"It makes me seem weak," said Will. "I've been taking some therapy sessions at the academy, but they haven't been able to make a dent in the nightmares. My therapist suggested hypnosis and some other methods, which I didn't want to do." He paused, then swallowed and continued. "I want you to know I care about this marriage. I love you, and I'm willing to do anything. I can retake the tests and do whatever it takes to get into the field if that's what you want."
Will climbed off the bed and kneeled down in front of Frankie on one knee.
"Frankie," he said, taking the hand her wedding ring was on. "I love you, and I'll do anything to make our marriage work. Can you give me another chance?"
Frankie looked down at him. He looked handsome in his tuxedo, and he seemed genuine in a way she hadn't seen in a long time.
"It was never about failing at field work," said Frankie softly. "I don't need to be married to some hotshot. I loved you for who you were, regardless of where you were working."
"Then what?" said Will.
"You changed," said Frankie. She sighed and looked him in the eyes. "You became a different person. You used to be ambitious and driven. Now, you seem completely content to spend the rest of your life in a job you could do in your sleep by this point. Tell me, honestly, when the last time you took a risk was? When was the last time that you stepped out of your comfort zone? Out of your routine?"