by Beth Fred
“He left a voicemail, too. It was obvious something was wrong.”
“What did he leave on his desk?”
“Just this.” I pulled up the cross around my neck, so he could see it.
“So you messed with the crime scene before you called us?”
“What crime scene? He killed himself. The only crime is the one he committed in Iraq.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You accusin’ the dead of war crimes?”
“I’m not accusing him of anything. He openly admitted it. He shot himself in a YouTube video. He killed my dad.”
The old man shook his head. “Your dad was a good man.” This surprised me, because I didn’t know this guy. It probably shouldn’t have. It seemed like my dad knew everyone. Then he added, “He’d be turnin’ in his grave if he could see this.”
“See what?”
“His boy messing with a crime scene.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t mess with any crime scene. I got this stupid necklace your wonder boy said my dad was holding when he died. I cleaned the puke out of his face, and I called the police.”
I left out the part about publishing the YouTube video because I was sure the old guy would look down on that. Say I was disrespecting the dead or something. Forget that he’d killed my dad.
“Why was there puke on his face?”
I hung my head, ashamed to admit it. “I threw up when I found him.”
He nodded. “Well, give me the necklace, and we’ll look around.”
“I’m not giving you the necklace, and I watch enough SVU to know you need a warrant to take it off my body.” I had no idea if that was true, but I hoped it was.
“Son—”
“Johnson, it was his dad’s,” the blonde interrupted.
He sighed. “Fine. Don’t go nowhere though. We’re gonna have to ask you some questions when we’re done here.”
The woman checked Gade’s pulse and pronounced him dead before calling the coroner. They milled around the apartment taking prints here and there, and they were still at it when the coroner arrived.
He stuffed Gade into a bag and zipped it up. “Do you want to come to the morgue and make arrangements for the body?”
Not really. I wondered if it was the right thing to do. If there was something immoral in leaving him alone like this, but he’d killed my dad. I was sorry he was dead, and even sorrier that I was the reason. My sympathy didn’t go beyond that.
“You should call his mom,” I said. “He called me to pick something up. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I got here.”
The coroner nodded, but the way he eyed me made me feel like a jerk. I did feel sorry for Gade, but I wanted out of this apartment. I needed to talk to Mirriam. She never said it, but I knew she would feel safer without Gade around. And I needed to let my mom know that I didn’t think she had to worry about Collins’ threats anymore.
“Interesting,” Johnson said. “There’s no suicide note. Usually, there’s a note.”
“It’s a YouTube video,” I said.
“How do we find it?” he asked. You would think Blondie could help with this. She was thirty years younger and had to have heard of YouTube.
“I’ll show you.” I went to Gade’s computer and replayed the video. The cops focused their attention completely on the video, and while their eyes were locked on Gade’s computer screen, I downloaded the video to my phone. It was a military town. I wanted my own personal copy before any information had a chance to disappear.
“Wait a minute,” Blondie said. “This was posted at 3:15 a.m. It’s only four now and the coroner said he’s been dead for a couple of hours.”
That’s not possible. He called me at three. I checked the message on my phone. It was sent at 1:56 a.m. The notification noise took an hour to wake me up because of the Oxycontin.
Johnson turned to me with narrowed eyes. “How did the video get posted after the kid died?”
“It was on his computer when I came in. He shot himself. He obviously couldn’t publish it, so I did.”
“Interesting you left that part out when you were going through the events.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“He killed your dad. I would say it mattered.”
I rolled my eyes. “You watched the guy shoot himself. Did it look like I had anything to do with it?”
“It’s interesting you’d be the person he’d choose to call.”
I had never really talked down to authority figures. Until last week, I thought cops and soldiers were the good guys. I believed in this country and all of its agencies. Now I knew better than to believe anyone. “You’re a dumbass. He killed my dad. He felt guilty. That’s why he called. I don’t think you have to be Dr. Phil to figure that one out.”
“Watch your mouth, boy. You’re comin’ with us.”
I dialed a number in my phone and prayed he’d answer. “Hello,” the groggy voice of Reyes, the attorney who handled my dad’s will answered.
“The soldier who shot my dad, Sargent Michael Miller, killed himself tonight. I found the body, and they’re taking me in.” I spat it all out. I had to. I didn’t know how much time I had, and I didn’t trust anyone anymore.
“Caleb? Caleb Miller? Who’s taking you in?”
“Two cops.”
“You don’t get your one call till we get to the station. Give me that,” Johnson said, reaching for my phone.
I turned away from him. “Can you help me?”
“Don’t swing at anyone and keep your mouth shut. I’ll meet you there.”
That was a ballsy move, but I had watched enough Law & Order to know a person could be framed. This was a military town. Gade was a solider. I was not. Last week, I would have laughed if someone told me two cops were covering something up, but this week I knew more. My fingerprints were on the desk and the mouse, and I planned to make sure they didn’t make it onto anything else.
Reyes was confused when he got there. He asked for a minute alone with me. I told him everything. Almost everything—I left out the part about Mirriam being here. I also played the video for him.
“How did you find out about all of this?”
“I can’t say.”
“You need to tell me everything.”
“Well, I can’t tell you that.”
“Then you’ll have to find another attorney.”
I didn’t see that one coming, but I wouldn’t sell Mirriam out. It couldn’t have been easy for her to tell me the truth, but she had. I would make sure she and her family were safe. I nodded. “Can you stay for questioning, and I’ll get another attorney when the sun comes up?”
“Don’t lie to me. Was the way you found out illegal?”
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“Then why can’t you tell me?”
“I’m protecting someone.”
“Why would you want to protect someone involved with your dad’s death?”
“They weren’t involved. Just witnessed.”
“They didn’t stop it, either.”
“She couldn’t.”
Reyes smiled. “You’re protecting a girl. I didn’t know there were any women in your dad’s company.”
I didn’t say that there weren’t.
Reyes stayed for the questioning, and Detective Johnson lost his attitude.
I was there for more than half an hour before they said all the evidence corroborated my story. Reyes drove me home, and before I got out of his car he said, “Caleb, I can help you, or you can call someone else. They’re going to have to make you some kind of settlement offer. Friendly fire is different from enemy fire, especially if there is negligence.” That was what Mirriam had said. “In this case, they tried to cover it up. You don’t take the first settlement, and you don’t negotiate it. Let an attorney.”
“Would you help me?”
“I can, but I have to tell you, you’ll probably get more with someone who’s used to negotiating with
Uncle Sam. I tell you what, I know someone in Dallas. I’ll give him a call.”
“Thanks.” I grimaced as I climbed out of the car. I was shutting the car door, when mom walked out the front door.
“Caleb Michael Miller! Have you been out all night? You shouldn’t be on that leg!”
“You’re telling me.”
“Where have you been?”
“We should talk about that. You might want to come in.”
“Do you think you’re funny, mister?”
“Mom, I’m serious. I have to tell you something.”
“I have to go to work,” she said sharply. “But we will talk when I get home. Believe that.”
“Gade is dead, and Reyes gave me a ride back from the station.”
She dropped her purse in the grass. “What?” she asked, before bending down to pick it up.
“Now do you want to talk?”
Chapter 34
Mirriam
I picked up my phone to silence the alarm and saw I had a new text.
I need you. Now. Caleb.
I dressed for school as quickly as possible and was careful not to make a sound as I came out of my room. Good. Abrahem was asleep on the couch, hugging the remote. I peaked into Ommy’s room. She was asleep, too. I could get across the street without anyone seeing me. I’d leave for school out of Caleb’s back door.
As soon as I walked into the house, I knew something was wrong. Caleb sat in the office chair in front of a desktop at the back of the room, instead of his usual place on the couch, and I heard his mom in the kitchen.
“You’re feeling better,” I said thinking his leg and back must be better for him to be sitting up like this.
“No, I’m too shocked to care.”
“Shocked?”
He spun around, and I was shocked. Astonished. Amazed. A golden chain hung from his neck and at the end of it was the cross my dad brought me from Rome. I never thought I would see it again.
The blood drained from my face. My mouth gaped.
“You already know?” he asked.
“Know what? Where did you get that?”
“About Gade. Where did I get what?” “My necklace.”
He placed two fingers around the cross. “This? This is yours?”
I nodded. “Baba got that for me.”
“Gade said my dad was holding onto it when he died.”
I nodded and looked away. “I knew I had to move. I couldn’t stay. I thought—hoped—the cross would protect the man that saved my life.”
Caleb let out a slow breath. I wanted my necklace back, but I couldn’t ask for it. It wasn’t mine anymore. I dropped it over the heart of the man that had saved my life—Caleb’s father. Finally, I turned to look at him.
“I need to show you something,” he said.
I leaned over his shoulder and stared at the PC monitor as Caleb clicked the big arrow in the center of the black screen. A bad image of Gade’s face filled the screen, and at first I didn’t know why we were watching this.
Once the screen had gone black again, it took a minute for me to form a coherent thought. For a millisecond, I had hope. Collins had to quit threatening Caleb and his mother. The military had to believe him now. Gade had given Caleb credibility, but a much stronger thought sprung into my mind after that one.
“Are you crazy?” I screamed. “YouTube? Really?”
Caleb’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong, M? Look, I feel bad posting his suicide note on YouTube, but he killed my dad. Collins told him to, and everyone was going to get away with it.”
“Caleb, he tried to kill me. I don’t care that you posted his suicide note. You promised me you wouldn’t lead anyone back to my family. We haven’t been here three months, and my doctor dad was killed in Iraq. People are going to figure out it’s me. I’m going to have to hide in my house now. If my family sees this, they’ll move me to some little corner of the world. We’ll never see each other again. How could you do this?”
Caleb grasped the arms of the chair and moaned as he pulled himself up. “If someone recognized you, they can’t hurt you now. They would be accused of a cover up. I don’t think I led anyone back to you or your family. I don’t think they’re anymore likely to recognize you now than they were before.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my eye. “M, I’ll never let anyone take you away from me.”
“You won’t have a choice.”
“I’ll kidnap you if I have to.”
He kissed my forehead and closed his arms around me. He pulled the chain over his head, moaning again as he did it. “You should have this back.” He slipped it over my head.
“You can keep it. I gave it to your father. It’s yours.”
“I’m giving it to you.”
I leaned up and kissed him, forgetting that his mom was in the next room. I heard a pot bang in the kitchen and moved away. Caleb laughed. I glanced back to the computer. “How many times have you watched that video?”
“Too many. I found the body.”
I shuddered. “I’m sorry.” His eyes drooped, and I knew he’d had a rough night. “Maybe, you should get some sleep.”
“No.” His words were firm and final.
I gazed into his eyes. Caleb looked out the window and mumbled, “I’m afraid to…”
He didn’t have to say anymore. I understood he was afraid of what he’d see when he closed his eyes. I had lived like that for a long time. Sometimes, I still did.
He crossed to the couch and settled down in the corner of it. I sat beside him, and he draped an arm over me.
“I got an attorney,” he said. “The cops were acting like I was a suspect, so I had him come with me for questioning. It was a good idea because I’m going to need one for the settlement. He told me not to take the first offer.”
“A suspect?”
“I don’t know. It was obviously a suicide, but M, I do feel responsible. So many people told me to leave it alone, and I wouldn’t, so Gade is dead.”
“Caleb, it’s not your fault he killed himself. You told him to take responsibility for what he did. Your government told him to do it.”
“You blame the government?”
“Or him. If he’s going to shoot at people, he needs to be able to handle the consequences. I don’t have anymore sympathy for your soldiers than I do the jihadists.”
“Why? You don’t support violence, and you’re not Muslim.”
“Because at the end of the day, they’re both kids our age with weaponry supplied by some old rich fat man and a belief that what they’re doing is right. Or that it can fix something—make something better—when in reality it only breaks things.”
I spent the day with Caleb. When his homebound instructor came, his mom explained he was in no shape for school today. The teacher saw me, so I started dusting shelves with a paper towel and speaking Spanish. After she left, Caleb asked, “Since when are you the housekeeper?”
“Since I started skipping school.”
“She’s never seen you before. There’s no way she can know you’re supposed to be in school.”
“I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to know I should be at school.”
I texted Abrahem that I was going to Morgan’s after school. He texted back that he was happy I had made a friend. I stayed until well after Ommy and Abrahem had gone to work.
The next day I woke to my phone. “Hey,” Caleb said.
“Hey.”
“I wanted to go to his funeral.”
“Okay,” I answered not sure how else to respond. It didn’t sound like he was finished. There was something more he needed to say about going to this funeral. But I also didn’t know what to say, because I wasn’t sure why Caleb would want to go to Gade’s funeral. I knew they were friends once, but Gade had shot his dad.
“His mom came over today. She yelled at me for driving her son to suicide and forbid me from going to the funeral.”
“Wow!” Her son killed a man—killed a man only because
he aimed to kill a girl and the man got in the way. He came home and lied about it. When he knew he was caught rather than facing the consequences, he asked the victim to stay quiet. Her son killed himself because it was easier than living with what he had done. How dare she blame Caleb for that?
“Caleb, this is not your fault. She’s looking for someone to blame because she doesn’t want to admit it’s her son’s fault. But it is his fault.”
“He was following orders.”
“Orders he knew were wrong. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have killed himself.”
“You think I did the right thing?”
“I think so. You should get justice for what they did to you.” To us.
When I put the phone down, I realized a day had passed since the YouTube video posted, and neither Ommy nor Abrahem had blown my door down to tell me we were moving. In truth, none of us trusted the American media. We still got most of our news from Al Jezeera. Maybe, it would blow over without them noticing, but it was a big deal here. The video exposed the military in a military town, and the suicide had people up in arms about PTSD and the morality of allowing eighteen year olds to enlist. Gade’s background had come up. Apparently he stayed in trouble constantly in high school, and the experts said this should have been a red flag to the army that he wouldn’t be able to handle military life.
Another day went by without my family threatening me. The day of the funeral came, and I skipped school again. This time, I was prepared. I knew I couldn’t let Caleb deal with this alone, so I took a note around to all of my teachers about my out of town doctor’s appointment.
I spent the day with Caleb making tea and doing homework. I lectured him on getting caught up with his schoolwork, and then we worked on our project together.
“Do we have to worry about school today?” he asked.
I knew he had to think I was heartless, but staying busy was the best way to get through it. “We’re running out of days to worry about school.” I put my pencil down and looked at him. “Dwelling on it isn’t going to help anything. Going on with life is the best way to get over something.”
“Is that what you did after your—after our dads died?”
I nodded.
“You’re the toughest girl I know, Mirriam.” He looked at me over his laptop. He had been e-mailing companies to sponsor our final project all afternoon.