by T. K. Leigh
“Tyler…,” she cautioned. “You have nothing to worry about with any of my friends. And Mia, my hostess, only came to watch Meatball when everyone else so graciously dropped everything they were doing to be there when we got married. And look,” she said smugly, sticking her key in the knob and pushing the door open, her eyes still trained on mine. “Everything’s just fine.”
My attention focused straight ahead at her kitchen table. My adrenaline spiking, I reacted quickly and grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the hallway and away from the door.
“What the hell, Tyler?!” she exclaimed. “What’s gotten into you?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you still freaked out about what happened…?” She raised her eyebrows, giving me a knowing look.
“That’s not it, Mackenzie.” I glanced back into her apartment, bile rising in my throat. Swallowing it down, I hoped she couldn’t see how unnerved I really was.
“Then what is it? I can handle it.”
Shaking my head, I pulled her close to me, trying to do everything I could to protect her from the knowledge I now had. “I don’t think you can handle this one.”
“It’s my condo,” she insisted. “I have a right to know what’s got your panties in a bunch.”
“I know. I promise to tell you exactly what’s in there, but please don’t go inside. No one should have to see this. I’m begging you.”
She glanced up at me, her eyes glistening with worry. “What is it?” she whispered. “Is it Meatball?”
“No, Mackenzie. It’s not Meatball.”
“Then what is it?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s Charlie, Mackenzie. He’s…” I hesitated and ran my hand over my face.
“He’s what, Tyler?” she asked in an unsteady tone, trying to fight against me.
I remained silent and peeked at her open door once more, unsure of how I could even explain what was in there without her wanting to see it for herself.
“He’s what, Tyler?” she asked again, her voice louder and growing irate.
Letting out a long sigh, my shoulders slumped forward. “He’s dead, Mackenzie.”
She violently shook her head and pushed against me, bolting into the condo before I could stop her.
“Mackenzie, don’t!”
Stumbling, I tried to pull her away, but it was too late. Her scream echoed against the barren walls and she threw herself onto Charlie as he sat hunched over at her kitchen table, a Beretta M9 loosely held in his hand. His face was almost indistinguishable from the gunshot to his head, and I hesitated to get any closer to see the wound.
At first glance, it appeared Charlie had committed suicide, the blood spray pattern on the light gray walls of Mackenzie’s condo confirming my suspicions. She had feared that Charlie’s last phone call was to say goodbye. I hated that she was right. I hated that she had to see this. Most of all, I hated that I had no idea what to say to comfort her right now.
“Wake up, Charlie!” she begged, shaking his body, obviously uncaring that she was covering herself with his blood. “Please,” she cried out, her plight heartbreaking to watch.
I went to her and placed my hand on her shoulder. She snapped her head to look at me, her mascara streaking down her cheeks. She heaved through her sobs, almost unable to breathe. Over the months, I had seen her highs and lows, convinced I had been there for the lowest of her lows, but I was wrong. This woman in front of me was torn in two, heartbroken, confused, bitter, angry, and a thousand other emotions I couldn’t even label. This was a woman who had forgiven Charlie, who chose to see beyond the image everyone else wanted to paint him as, and my heart went out to her. With each tear that streamed down her face, I could almost sense her starting to lose hope in finally getting the happy ending she deserved. And I began to feel it, too.
Instead of pulling her away so she didn’t contaminate what could be a crime scene, I squeezed her shoulder in a compassionate manner. “I’ll give you a minute.”
She nodded and mouthed, Thank you, her chin trembling. She returned her attention to Charlie, resting her head on his knee, her sobs rolling through her body once more. Retreating from her, I couldn’t help but think that something about this didn’t sit right with me. Was Charlie really the type of person who would kill himself? I didn’t know much about him, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what it seemed. Nothing in this case was.
As I looked back at Charlie’s body, I surveyed the pattern of the blood on the wall from where he had supposedly shot himself in the head. It seemed off. It was low…too low, as if someone was standing over him and pulled the trigger.
Disarming the alarm that was now going off, I grabbed my cell out of the pocket of my cargo pants. “Eli, I need you to come over to Mackenzie’s condo as quickly as possible. Charlie’s dead.” I hung up, not wanting to say anything else, unsure of what the truth was.
The next several hours were a flurry of activity as law enforcement officers and forensic analysts swarmed the scene, asking question after question… Questions we couldn’t answer. Mackenzie simply remained sitting on the floor, refusing to look away as the coroner removed Charlie from the kitchen table and wheeled him out on a gurney, a white sheet covering his body.
“Wait a minute,” she said just as they were about to leave with him. Springing to life, she bolted down the hallway toward her bedroom, rummaging through the chest where she kept her father’s Victoria Cross. She came back carrying a folded American flag. Eli and I responded quickly, helping her unfold it and place it over his body.
As they began pushing the gurney down the hallway once more, Eli and I stepped back, snapping to attention and saluting, giving him the hero’s goodbye I knew, deep down, he deserved.
~~~~~~~~~~
THAT EVENING, I BROUGHT Mackenzie back to my house. I had Eli and Martin collect as many of her belongings as they could so she never had to step foot in that condo again. Meatball was a little unsure of his surroundings, but once he realized Griffin was more scared of him than he was of the dog, they got along famously, even within the span of just a few hours.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” I told Mackenzie after I got out of the shower and saw her in the same exact position she had been in since we had gotten here…sitting in the bay window, overlooking the channel behind the house.
“No,” she said evenly, still in shock. “I need to call his aunt and uncle, let them know what’s happened.”
“I’ll do it. Just get me their information and I’ll make all the phone calls you need me to. You need to try to think about something else for a minute…”
“Think about something else?” she sobbed, tilting her head to look at me. “How? How can I possibly be expected to think about anything else right now? He warned me this was going to happen and what did I do?”
“Mackenzie, you can’t–”
“Nothing!” she exclaimed. “I told him to be smart, and that’s it. I should have pushed him harder to stay hidden…”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” I urged, pulling her body into mine. “Don’t bury yourself in that guilt. You didn’t pull the trigger. I burdened myself with guilt after Melanie died, despite telling my friends and family that the only person to blame was behind bars. But for the longest time, I went to bed thinking I could have done something to prevent it. It took me years to realize I couldn’t. I forced myself to live with that guilt and I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, so don’t you dare do that to yourself. There’s nothing you could have done to stop this. I promise you, we will find the bastard responsible and he will pay. Okay?”
“But what if Agent Suarez rules it a suicide? That’s the way he was leaning when he examined the crime scene. No one seems to believe that Charlie just wouldn’t kill himself. They keep bringing up his record at Walter Reed, not even examining the evidence because he was a schizophrenic who had been off his meds for too long. What if they don’t look harder?”
“They will,” I assured her, having doubts
myself, but I didn’t let on. “And if they don’t, we will.”
She studied me for a protracted moment, then nodded and returned her attention to the window, staring outside once more. I wished there was something I could do or say to make her feel better about all this.
Grief is like a storm. It can be calm and refreshing, a way to finally close one chapter of your life. Or it can be as unforgiving as a hurricane. It can bring our world into the abyss of darkness and turmoil. But just like with the most perilous of storms, it will soon pass. We never truly forget the helplessness and fear we felt during the eye of the storm, but we learn to move on and rebuild our lives. We never forget the loss, but the loss no longer consumes us.
We all grieve in our own way, and Mackenzie was grieving how she needed so she could finally move past this chapter in her life.
“I need to go brief Eli and the team about what’s going on,” I said, running my hand up and down her arm. “Do you need anything? Tea? Water?”
She shook her head. “No. Just promise you won’t let Charlie’s death be for nothing.” She looked at me once more, her eyes wide and pleading. “That his blood is the last that has to be spilled. I… I can’t lose anyone else.”
Nodding, I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her head. “I promise, mi cariño.”
Her lips turned up just slightly in the corners, a weak smile crossing her face, then she stared out the window once more.
Taking that as my cue to leave, I retreated from the master bedroom, unsure of whether I’d be able to fulfill my promise to her. I entered my office, ignoring the multiple sets of eager eyes sitting around the conference table, and headed straight to the wet bar, pouring myself a scotch. After downing a much needed sip, I took my seat at the table and just stared. Silence surrounded us and I had no idea what to say to everyone.
“Someone say something,” I finally said.
“I made contact with the medical examiner’s office,” Eli began quickly, “and they refused to tell me whether this would be ruled a homicide or suicide. The M.E. seemed a bit annoyed, so that makes me think the agent in charge is leaning toward suicide.”
“Have you done any research on this Agent Suarez who seemed to be at the scene alarmingly fast for an FBI agent? I would have expected local police to call the FBI in after they realized who the victim was, but he was there almost immediately.”
“I’ve looked into him. He’s been the agent in charge of finding and apprehending Mr. Montgomery since he was linked to all those murders months ago. When I asked how he arrived so quickly, he said he was in the area chasing down a lead.”
“And did you believe him?”
“Not one bit,” Eli answered. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve been around cops my entire life. I get a feeling he’s dirty. He’s working without a partner, which seems suspicious enough, and when I called his office in Washington, his secretary told me he’s on vacation overseas for the next month.”
Soaking in what Eli had just told me, I simply nodded. “Okay. Thanks. Just keep on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What else?”
Martin cleared his throat. “On a possibly unrelated note–”
“Nothing is unrelated anymore,” I interrupted.
He nodded. “We have a lead on who may have killed McDonough and Carlyle, and who may have rigged their houses to explode.”
“Go on…”
“Maxwell called in a few favors with some of his contacts involved in running guns and explosives. They put us on to a contact in the area. He confirmed that he sold the same explosives found in both houses to a Serbian drug runner.”
“Serbian?” I asked, making sure I had heard correctly. It seemed like too much of a coincidence.
“Exactly. His name is Boris Ranko. We’re trying to locate him and ascertain his known associates.”
“Good. Benson, Maxwell, stay on it. The fact that a Serbian national nearly tried to kill us makes me pretty certain there’s a connection between what’s been going on with this case and Galloway’s time in Bosnia. I need you to find that connection. Let’s put an end to this.”
“Sir,” they both said in unison.
“Martin, Eli, I want you both to follow the investigation into Charlie’s death. There’s no question in my mind it is related. We’ve got to nip this in the bud.”
“And what about Colonel Galloway?” Eli asked, looking up from his file. “Do we know of his whereabouts?”
I took another sip of my scotch. “At this point, no. Unfortunately, he disappeared after the wedding. He had insinuated he was ready to use himself to put an end to all of this, but I want to avoid that at all costs. Mackenzie’s already lost enough people. We don’t need to add to that number. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Eli said.
“That’s it for now. Keep me updated with anything else you find out.” I raised myself from my chair and retreated from my team. Immediately, they started whispering amongst themselves, already devising some sort of plan. Even though it was the night before Thanksgiving, none of them had complained about having to spend it away from whatever family they had. Hesitating as I reached the door, I turned around. “Thank you,” I said, “for being here and doing everything you can to put an end to this.”
They all looked up and met my gaze. “Of course,” Eli said. “We want to catch this bastard just as much as you do.”
Nodding, I spun on my heels and bolted upstairs to check on how Mackenzie was doing. Based on her fragile state, I didn’t want to leave her alone for too long. When I opened the door, the sun was setting, a glow spreading through the room and illuminating her body as she lay on the bed.
With light steps, I went to her and sat down beside her. Brushing her hair behind her ear so I could look at her face, I placed a kiss on her temple. She sighed, her eyes remaining closed. “I’ll make this right. I promise.”
Mackenzie
“HE DIDN’T KILL HIMSELF,” I insisted as I sat in a cold room of the South Padre police department the following day. I was going on hour number two of their inane questions, and we hadn’t gotten anywhere. All they wanted to talk about was Charlie’s attack on me during my freshman year of college, which resulted in his eventual institutionalization. But he didn’t kill himself and I knew it. I just wondered why this so-called FBI agent refused to look at the actual evidence, dwelling instead on Charlie’s institutionalization as the most poignant piece of information to prove it was suicide.
The longer I sat, Tyler beside me, the more irritated I became. This was not how I expected to be spending our first Thanksgiving together. I had hoped to be sitting with a stomach full of turkey, watching football as I snuggled next to Tyler. Instead, we were stuck at the police department, an incompetent FBI agent hell-bent on trying to convince me Charlie killed himself.
“If he didn’t kill himself, who did?” the overweight agent asked in a thick Spanish accent.
“No lo se. Why don’t you get off your ass and figure it out instead of sitting here asking me who did it? If I knew who killed him, don’t you think I’d tell you?”
“Not if you’re trying to cover for him.”
“For whom?” I asked, my voice growing louder.
“For this man,” the detective said, opening up the manila folder that sat in front of him. He pushed a photo of my father in front of me. On one hand, I was relieved he had finally admitted that Charlie was murdered. On the other, the insinuation my father was the one responsible for his murder was ludicrous. “You are Serafina Galloway, aren’t you?”
I maintained eye contact with Agent Suarez, wondering how he knew who I really was.
“I know all about how you and your mother disappeared after your father attacked the U.S. Embassy in Liberia all those years ago.”
Tyler bolted up from his chair, the fury on his face visible. “Mackenzie, you don’t have to answer any more of these questions. I’ll call my lawyer immediately.”
“No,” I insisted,
grabbing Tyler’s hand. When I had gotten the phone call earlier this morning asking if I’d come down to answer a few questions, he begged me to tell them no, that we’d reschedule when he could arrange for his lawyer to be there with me. But I had nothing to hide and I wanted to do everything I could to finally move on from this chapter of my life.
Looking up at him, I said, “I’ve done nothing wrong.” I faced Agent Suarez. “Yes, after my father’s alleged attack on the embassy, my mother and I disappeared. I didn’t know why. All I knew was that I left the only life I had ever known and was forced to hide for years.”
He nodded smugly, pulling another photo out of the file. “And how about these three individuals? Do you know who they are?”
He slid a photo of a happy family across the table. I stared at the old photo of my former neighbors. Emily was enclosed in Harrison’s embrace, when I still knew him as Harrison Mills and before he became Benjamin Collins. In front of them was my best friend, Damian. I traced the contours of his youthful face, wishing I could rewind the clock and go back to that time, that I could warn my father not to go to Liberia.
“Yes. They were my old neighbors. The Mills,” I said finally, shoving the photo back at him.
“And do you know what happened to Emily Mills?”
“It’s Sheperd now, I guess,” I responded. “And she was murdered a few months ago, along with her current husband. I saw it on the news.”
“So you didn’t discuss this with Mr. Montgomery? If you saw it on the news, you must have known the prime suspect in that case was one Charles Patrick Montgomery.”
Tyler slammed his fist on the table, his face red with anger. “Don’t answer that, Mackenzie. This prick has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Tyler,” I said calmly. “I have nothing to hide. I haven’t done anything wrong, so this prick, as you so aptly called him, can ask me all the questions he wants. He’s not going to find anything, but if he wants to waste his time, so be it.” I returned my attention to Suarez. “Now, you want to know if I discussed the Sheperd’s murder with Charlie… Yes, I did. He called me the night I learned about it and I accused him of the murder.”