It was as if a stone weight had been cast into my stomach—the caller didn’t bear good news.
Jack put the phone down and addressed Shane. “Please have a seat.” Jack glimpsed at me, but I had a feeling what he had to say.
Shane complied and did as Jack directed.
“We’ve found your son.”
That’s all it took—four words.
Shane’s face contorted. His chin quivered and he covered his mouth.
“There was an accident and—”
Shane let out a moan of grief and his hand shook.
“He died at the scene. We are sorry for your loss.”
The sadness that had stamped all of Shane’s features was replaced by a veil of anger. “You thought my son was a killer and now he’s dead.” He shot to his feet, his face a bright red, and his pointed finger thrust toward the door. “Get out of my house!”
Chapter 33
With each stride, I exhaled all the negative energy that threatened to swallow me whole. This afternoon had been one of the toughest notifications I had ever been a part of, and I wasn’t even the one who delivered the message. I suspected it wouldn’t matter if it was my one hundredth time—it would still bring with it the same substantive blow.
Kent Fields had been confirmed dead on scene about three hours away from Denver. He was on the way to his lover’s bedside. Henry had been rushed in for emergency heart surgery and Kent had wanted to be there for him. By the time he’d arrived, his friend had gone into cardiac arrest and died.
Responders on scene found a bottle of whiskey in Fields’s lap. Two thirds of it was gone.
The only comfort from the sad story was that Fields didn’t take anyone else out along with him.
I increased the treadmill’s speed and elevation. With each increment it beeped as if warning me, but I welcomed the exertion. Sweat ran down my back and my muscles strained.
The classic rock coming through my ear-buds fed my soul, its beat propelling each step. Its message, which alluded to freedom and the ability to be promiscuous without consequence, had Paige entering my mind. She merged with memories of my wife.
I upped the incline.
Purge the negative.
Even with the thought, I had to find a balance, a compromise between releasing the memories and appreciating them for what they were. Right now, the wound was still too fresh. People talk about divorce as if it’s not a big deal, it’s a natural stage one advances to after marrying. It was almost up there with the getting married and having a baby—an expected conclusion. In that sense I didn’t disappoint. By the time we headed home, I’d be a free man.
Free…there was a concept. Something people longed for all the time but once they tasted supposed freedom, usually they would exchange it for some restriction. Restriction confirmed someone cared about you. Maybe I was crazy for expecting more out of my life.
Tingles pulsed through my arms and face. My heart rate was getting too high. I returned the settings to where they had been.
Paige stepped in front of the treadmill, her mouth forming the word, Hello? The arch of a question was implied by the aggravation written on her face and the way her brow pushed up in irritation.
I took out my ear-buds and smiled. “Couldn’t hear you.”
“I figured that.” She let her eyes scan over me. “What’s up?”
“What do you mean? I’m working out.”
She smiled, the kind that told me she realized there was more to this than trying to work off extra calories.
I stepped to the side plates, straddling the tread, and hit stop. “Rough day.”
“Yeah, it was.”
I realized then that she wasn’t in workout wear. “What’s up with you?”
She ran her hands down the front of her thighs. She had paired blue jeans with a cream colored knitted sweater that had her belonging beside a fireplace sipping on a red wine.
“What do you mean? The outfit? You don’t like it?”
The spark in her eyes had me getting off the treadmill and walking around to meet her. “We can’t get caught.”
“I know.”
I looked past her, around her, and behind myself. No one was in sight.
I cupped her chin and angled her face upward and took her mouth. For the brief time we were connected, all the negativity melted away. I could have remained in that moment forever.
Her eyes were still closed when I pulled away. They opened slowly, regret filling them.
“I’ll have to change first, but do you want to go have a drink?” I asked.
She licked her lips and it had me wanting to do the same. She was savoring my taste and I didn’t want to let hers go either.
*****
The hotel’s bar was quiet and I figured it had more to do with the vicinity of the hotel than the hour. It was only nearing midnight.
We sat in a quiet, dimly lit corner, having passed other couples who were too caught up in their drinks, and each other, to pay us any attention. I wondered how many of them were with their mates and not their mistress. My guess was none of the ones here. The hunger emanating from each of them was tangible. They were here for a forbidden rendezvous.
The waitress took our drink orders and I looked across the table at Paige. She was beautiful in any light, both physically and as a human being. I knew her better than I did myself. At least I thought I did.
A melancholy thought of Deb passed through. Paige deserved someone better than me.
“You’re thinking of her.” Paige had a way of reading my mind.
Our waitress returned and she set a white wine in front of Paige and a glass of Scotch in front of me.
“Don’t think of denying it.” Paige gave me a soft, knowing smile. “You were thinking of Deb.”
“I was, but it’s nothing.” I took a sip of the Scotch and let it coat my mouth before swallowing.
“Your divorce is final this month, isn’t it?” She asked the question, but her eyes revealed she knew the answer.
She took a draw on her wine; her eyes broke from mine, and she glanced over at another couple who sat so close to each other it was probably best they call it a night, head upstairs, and finish the deal.
“Hard to believe that Fields is dead.” I desperately needed a change of subject.
She closed her eyes briefly.
I continued. “You know when Jack and I spoke to Fields, he told us he didn’t drink. That was obviously a lie.”
“Not necessarily. He was grieving and heartbroken.” She leaned on the table, her arms folded, one hand pinched around the stem of her wine glass. “People act differently under those circumstances.”
I don’t know why I was avoiding the one topic of conversation she wanted to have. Maybe it was because I knew giving in to the situation, one I wasn’t able to pursue, hurt too much. It was like losing Deb all over again. It was best that I not let myself get involved. Or was it too late?
Soft curls of red hair framed Paige’s face. Her green eyes seemed dull and I witnessed pain in them, but what was I supposed to do about it? Risk my career? Risk hers? I couldn’t be responsible for that.
My mind went to the case—safe ground. Fields’s prints didn’t match the partial on the silver tape pulled from Ellis and there was no missing chrome from his truck’s hitch. Our killer was still in the wind.
“Seems we won’t be headed home anytime soon.” The words came out and I assessed their value—mindless chatter. We were better than that, weren’t we?
She took another draw on her wine without responding.
I hated seeing her this way. “You’re sad because it’s almost Christmas and you’re here?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way you’re being.”
“And how is that?”
“You seem upset. I know you love Christmas.”
“There are other things I love besides Christmas.” She took a sip of wine.
“Listen,” I took a deep breath,
“I know how you feel about me.”
“Ha. You know how I feel? About you?” She sank back into the booth. “I don’t even know why I bother trying to hold on, Brandon. What’s the point? Tell me, would you?”
I took a gulp of the Scotch. It burned all the way down but I was too stubborn to show any indication of it.
“You send me mixed signals. First, you push me away, then you pull me in, and the cycle repeats over and over again.” She drew circles in the air, then dropped her hand. “Do you love me?”
Her question punched me in the gut. Fuck, yes, I loved her! Were we meant to be together? I didn’t believe in that crap right now.
I took another sip.
“I’m tired of hanging around waiting for you to see if something better is coming along, Brandon. I’m letting you go.” Tears welled in her eyes as she stood up. “I have to.” She swigged back the rest of her wine and tossed a ten dollar bill on the table and walked away.
I let her go.
Chapter 34
The news was all over the place. Kent Fields, renowned Pulitzer-winning author, was dead. He died on scene when his car wrapped around the base of a tree. The Advocate heard the recap as he channel flipped, hoping that this was some sort of cruel joke.
He had everything figured out and it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Now who was going to take the fall? It certainly wasn’t going to be him. Not after all the hard work and planning he put into this. He had to choose his next target very carefully.
Plans had to be changed, but that was life. He still had people to make pay. Just like a detour can occur on a long road trip, that was all this equated to. He would still reach his destination. The world would benefit from a cleaner and more just society.
He brought up the Internet and searched for his next victim. It seemed like his initial choice was granted a stay of life—for now. He’d move on and pick someone closer to home, and it would most certainly get the FBI’s attention.
But was that what he wanted?
He told himself many times he wasn’t a killer, even though the dead bodies contradicted that belief. He could justify his actions. These men deserved to die for what they had done. Even the Good Book believes in retribution, a compensating for sins.
He wasn’t God’s means of meting out justice. He wasn’t that disillusioned, but he had a higher purpose. He wouldn’t be stopped unless he wanted to. The best course of action would be to lie low until the FBI disappeared—the man hours and budget would eventually supersede the need to find a killer.
But there was a burning inside of him that couldn’t be dampened. A compulsion that drove him forward. His hands shook when he stumbled upon the perfect person.
He smirked.
Yes, he would arrive. This was just the scenic route.
*****
The Advocate hated being this unprepared, but he wasn’t left with a choice. When he spotted his next target, he had a feeling it would be easier than he thought.
The Offender’s gait tipped left to right as if he were a piece of fabric blowing in the breeze. He lost his footing on the step along the front walkway and came down hard, knee to concrete—his left one taking the brunt of it.
“Son of a bitch!”
His yell pierced the night air but no one seemed to pay him attention. No lights turned on in the neighboring houses.
The Advocate took it as a sign to move. The superstitious part of him saw it as a positive omen that he was where he was supposed to be. He got out of the car and made it all the way to the man without being noticed.
“Here, would you like help?” He offered him a hand to stand up, but the recognized gesture of goodwill was only to ensure that the man would go quietly.
The Offender straightened out, a stupid grin on his face, and slurred, “Thanks, man.”
It was time to act. The Advocate pulled the gun from his coat.
The ridiculous expression on the man’s face morphed into fear. He batted his hands in the air. “Get away—”
“Be quiet. You come with me, nice and slow and I won’t shoot you.” He preferred he followed his advice. He’d rather him suffer long, slow, and painfully as he had inflicted on one of the defenseless.
“Who are you?” Even standing back up, he leaned side to side. His breath stank of cheap whiskey.
“That doesn’t matter. See that car over there? The one behind me?”
The drunk squinted. His eyes were glazed over like two beady marbles. “Why does it matter?”
God, he had no toleration for drunks. He pressed the gun to the man’s gut. “You’re going to walk there like we’re friends.”
“Hey, I’ve seen you before.”
I highly doubt it.
“Move it.” He gestured with a nudge of the gun.
The Offender held up his hands and toppled forward.
Maybe he had underestimated the simplicity of this abduction. But patience. The man would pay for what he did, and it would be executed flawlessly. He would see to that.
He put him in the small room where Lyons had decided to hang himself rather than endure more physical pain and discomfort. He was weak, giving up on life. No doubt he realized that he was a miserable being who didn’t deserve the breath of life.
Either way it was of no consequence. The sacrifice of atonement had been made—adhering to Biblical logic—a life for a life.
He had the latest Offender constrained to a chair. Restraints were on his arms, his ankles, and for good measure, a clasp was around his neck. The latter hardly fit around him and had his eyes bulging and bloodshot—red lines spread out like vines. Still, there would be no mercy.
Above him was a jug of hydrofluoric acid. He had added water to ensure that he’d have longer to toy with the man, to make him realize the error in his ways.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.
His captive looked on him with eyes like blank coals.
“You are going to get back what you deserve. See above you?” He paused as if the man were able to accept the invitation. “Well, I guess you can’t. So I will tell you. Better yet, I will show you.”
He snapped on gloves.
“Please, no, don’t do this.”
The Advocate moved to the container and punctured the base of it with a fine-tipped awl.
Even with protection, he hurried to get his hand out of the way, but he was too slow. A few drops burned through to flesh.
The cry coming from his throat mingled with the curdling screams of his captive.
Suddenly any pain he experienced paled to insignificance. “You are only getting back what you deserve.” He ripped off his gloves and left the room. He would leave the jug to run dry and his captive to receive the rewards of his actions.
Chapter 35
The case seemed to be getting nowhere fast. The lab was still working on tying the chrome paint from the hitch to a truck brand. We didn’t have any other hot suspects at the moment.
We were at the field office deciding our next course of action.
“We still haven’t spoken to Karl Ball’s wife. He’s the missing man from two thousand ten,” Paige said.
She hadn’t looked at me all morning, and after a night of tossing and turning myself, I don’t think I blamed her. She was right, but things were what they were.
“We’ve done a lot of talking to family members.” Jack’s eyes showed he was in thought. “All right, we know both Ellis and Lyons were gamblers. Could our unsub be a man they both owed money to?”
“Good luck finding that person though, especially if they owed someone under the table,” Zachery said.
“Hmm.”
“What about casinos in the area? Did they owe them?” I asked. Everyone but Paige had their attention on me.
“Not sure. We should ask Nadia to look into that aspect.”
“We need to figure out where their lives could have intersected.”
Paige’s phone chimed and I recognized it as being an e
mail notification. She pulled out her cell and pushed some buttons. “Well, I got my answer from Nadia on prior politicians. You’re not going to believe who is on the list. Detective Hogan’s father was mayor for one term, twenty-six years ago.”
“You’re thinking maybe he was involved with Lyons getting off?” Zachery asked.
“What is the point of going down this path? I don’t understand.”
If a glare could freeze Tahiti…
Paige’s jaw tightened and her mouth fell into a straight line. “It’s called being thorough.”
“All right, but we’re not suspecting that he’s responsible for the killings are we? I mean why help get a man off and then carry out his own justice?” I answered my own question. The guy we were after had an ego. He was selective. “Never mind.”
“On top of it, our killer would know the charges are essentially a slap on the hand.” Paige didn’t acknowledge my presence when she continued. “It would also explain something else. Detective Hogan said he didn’t hate people, just the feds. Hogan Senior spent some time with the bureau.”
“Maybe it’s time to find out why he hated his father so much. He might know more than he’s telling us,” Zachery reasoned.
*****
Paige managed to convince Jack it would be best if she approached Detective Hogan alone. She worked it from the standpoint that as a woman she could use her charm and work it in their favor. He waved her off to take care of it.
The plea hadn’t stemmed from honest intentions though. She needed to get away from Brandon. How could he be so obtuse? It hurt just being around him. His moods ran polar opposite and it would have her questioning his mental stability if she didn’t know better.
But how could he go from kissing her to the cool indifference he had demonstrated in the bar? The way he tried to divert the conversation to Christmas and to the case. There was only one subject they needed to discuss and that was their relationship. She hated being toyed with and she didn’t understand why, when it came to him, she let it happen repeatedly.
She pulled into the Starbucks lot and picked out the department-issued sedan immediately. There was a spot open beside it and she parked there.
The Defenseless (Brandon Fisher FBI Series Book 3) Page 14