by Lund, S.
“Nope.”
He tried different variations—190285, then 850219. He worked on the combination lock using other codes he remembered from the past, but none of the variations worked.
"What about your mother's birthday?"
He entered 072464—and several variations—but again, no luck. Frustrated, he closed his eyes, rubbing them, trying to imagine what he’d use for a combination lock.
His enlistment date. 082808. It was easy to remember and only someone who really knew him could guess.
August 28th, 2008. He had been twenty-three, had finished a degree in political science from the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, and had joined the Navy as soon as he graduated. He wanted to fight for the US against terrorism. He felt bad enough that he didn't sign up as soon as he turned eighteen, but he’d wanted to have a degree first and join as an officer rather than as an enlisted member.
He figured political science would give him the most flexibility, in the Navy and after. His fluency in Czech would make him a good candidate for the intelligence service.
What his education didn't do was tell Brandon on how much power the US government had and how it abused that power, infringing on the rights of civilians. That was why he had joined the Montana Militia and begun training new members once he finished his second tour of duty in Afghanistan.
Finally, he succeeded, and the black box opened. Inside, he found what appeared to be a dozen sheets of thin paper folded up and taped to the lid with duct tape. He pried it off and unfolded the papers. Luckily, the box was airtight, and the papers hadn't gotten wet.
“Documents,” he said and held them up. “Shall I read and see what they say? They might explain everything."
She agreed and sat beside him.
“There might be classified information on the letter so if you don't mind, I’ll read it first.”
"You're not in the military anymore," she said and shot Brandon a frown. "What could you have that's classified?"
"Personal, then. Maybe to do with clients. Private information," he replied. He raised his eyebrows until finally, and with reluctance, she moved over so she couldn’t see the pages.
He sorted through the sheets and examined the first page labeled Mission. There were several other pages titled Strategy, Tactics, Targets, Locations, Background, and Results. There was another sheet labeled Membership.
He opened the one labeled Targets and was surprised to find the org charts for the private militia groups in several different states across the US, including Michigan, Idaho, Missouri, Montana, and Oregon. On each page was chart detailing the management and executive structure, listing the name of the militia. A separate sheet had a list of telephone numbers, addresses, and military rank if they had served.
It didn't make sense to Brandon. He was a member of the Montana Militia. He wasn't targeting it. He knew everyone listed in the militia’s membership list, but it included an old org chart from before he’d joined two years earlier. He was now on that chart somewhere below the rank of commander. His predecessor was still in that position. It surprised him that he hadn't updated it.
Besides, he didn't recognize any of the documents. He hadn't created them, although his name was on the header—Brandon O'Neil—and a date.
What the hell?
"What's in it?" Anna asked, leaning closer.
"Information on some military organizations. I don't remember creating these, but they have my name on them as the author."
"Maybe you'll remember when your concussion is healed."
"No," he said and examined another sheet. "This runs counter to what I know about myself. It's the opposite of what I am."
Brandon frowned and read a few more documents, but his head was starting to ache again, and he felt a need to rest his eyes. Still, he had to read more, to understand what was going on and why he had those documents.
Was it a cover for his real mission?
He read through the various documents, but most of them were background info on the various militias around the country. The strategy sheet contained intel on what the militias were doing, what their goals were, and what the strategy was to counter their efforts to fight the US government.
There was nothing personal about him and who he was.
There was, however, something personal, and it had to do with Anna: a letter addressed to her and signed by someone Brandon assumed was her brother—Theo McLean. Included was a photo of Brandon with a man he didn’t recognize. He read it over, and as he came to the end, a shock of adrenaline went through him. It was her brother.
He read it again in disbelief because what it suggested was different from the story he knew to be true.
"What the hell?"
He read it for yet a third time, wondering if this was all something she—or whoever controlled her—had cooked up to create a story about them.
"What is it?" she asked, her face expectant.
He wasn't sure whether he should let her read it, but if it really was a letter from her brother, and if what it said was true, they both needed to know.
Brandon handed her the letter, watching her carefully for her response. Based on what she did and said, he’d know the truth—at least, whether she was truly an innocent in all this or was a plant meant to trap him.
Chapter Eleven
He handed Anna the letter, which was two pages long.
"You need to read this," he said, his voice grim. "Prepare yourself."
"For what?" she asked, taking the letter and sitting back on the chair, noting the frown on his brow. His skin had blanched pale, as if he'd read something that upset him.
"Look," he said, his expression serious. "I don’t remember ever reading that letter. As far as I know, I've never read it in my life. But it's addressed to you and it mentions me. Read it. The other documents are business-related and might give away privileged information about my clients; you don’t need to read them, but you do need to read the letter."
She looked at the top of the first page. On the corner was a tiny mouse drawn in black ink, its ears perked up, whiskers sprouting off its nose. She recognized it immediately as a mouse drawn by Theo.
"Oh, God," she said, covering her mouth. "It's from Theo."
"It's upsetting, Anna," he said softly and reached over to take her hand. "It's bad news."
She pulled her hand out of his and stared at the document, now reluctant to read it, afraid of what she would learn.
She stared at the tiny mouse, its whiskers and eyelashes long, a smile on its pointy-nosed face. She said nothing for a moment, thinking of the mouse and whether she really wanted to open the next page.
The letter had been handwritten on the pages of a science notebook, the paper with squares instead of lines.
They had both used science notebooks for their journals. Theo wrote in his about the superheroes he watched on television or in the video games he played, and his plans to be a firefighter or something equally heroic. Anna’s first journals were about nature—the plants and animals in the neighborhood, the stars at night, the moon, and the way the spoon made a different sound when she stirred the chocolate power into the milk. One day, she would learn why, but back then, she’d merely wanted to note it for later consideration.
Finally, she turned to the letter itself, swallowing hard to prepare herself.
The Last Will and Testament of Theodore James McLean
If you are reading this, my beloved Anna, you should know that I am dead.
She covered her mouth as grief washed over her. She thought the use of ‘last will and testament’ was meant as a joke—Theo was always trying to make her laugh. It wasn't.
She blinked away the tears that blurred her vision and read further, trying to hold in her grief until she finished the letter.
I have arranged that if I'm absent from my apartment for more than two weeks and don't check in, the landlord will forward this letter to Brandon on my behalf. I've asked Brandon to find you and give yo
u this copy but you should burn it as soon as you read it. So, if you have received this, you should assume the worst, Anna. You should assume that I'm dead, most likely murdered. Assassinated like Dad.
Assassinated? Like their father?
"What's he talking about?" Anna asked, glancing up at Brandon, barely able to see him through her tears. "My father died on his way up to the cabin. He had a massive coronary that killed him in minutes. He wasn't assassinated."
Brandon shook his head. "Your brother seems to think he didn't die of a heart attack—at least, not one that occurred naturally. There are drugs that mimic a heart attack and are undetectable in toxicology tests."
She wiped her cheeks and turned back to the letter to continue reading.
You'll probably never find my body because it would be considered evidence, and that is the one thing they don't want lying around. While Dad’s death might be explained away as a coronary, my death would be too coincidental, so they will take care to make it seem as if I've disappeared. I won't say who 'they' are, because that would put you in danger. But you should know that, if I have done bad things, what they have done and are doing is evil, pure and simple.
If Theo had done bad things? Impossible. To Anna, her big brother was a saint, despite the personal demons he battled. Whatever he did, he did because it was the right thing. He'd drilled that into her after their mother died, when he took over as a kind of surrogate parent.
Don't try to understand what happened. Just try to live as happy a life as you can. Brandon can get you a new identity. Take it and go somewhere safe. Move to Canada. Or somewhere in South America. I know you fear that you will always be alone, but there will be someone for you to love, Anna. I truly believe that.
Anna didn't believe it, having had her heart broken too many times. His hopeful words just made her feel like crying even harder, but she bit her lip hoping the pain would keep the tears from falling.
Don't become obsessed with solving my murder. I know you'll think about it, but trying will only get you killed.
Solving murders was what she wanted to do for a living, which was why she hoped to one day work for the CIA. She had initially finished a degree in psychology, but then, when a neighbor had been murdered and she had briefly been caught up in the investigation as a witness, she changed majors and started a master’s in forensic science at John Jay. If Theo had been murdered, there was no way she wouldn't want to find out who did it and why.
I have very few possessions, but what I have is yours. I live a very spartan life as I can't stay in one place for very long. I'm in Arlington right now tracking down some clues. I know you thought I was in LA but that was a cover story. I'm doing important work, Anna, that I can't tell you about. Just know that I'm fighting on the right side, no matter what you might hear otherwise.
I'm so sorry to leave you alone in this heartless universe, sweet Anna. I did what I could to protect you, help you find your way, but now it's just you. Look after yourself. Try to be happy in spite of everything. If you have no happiness at all, they will have won.
That admission made Anna stop reading once more, imagining her life completely alone. While she’d been living alone for the past few years in Manhattan, Theo would occasionally visit, and each summer when he was on furlough, they’d stay at the beach, renting a tiny cottage for a week where they could reconnect. When their dad had time, he'd email and catch up on his latest work. The three of them got together now and then at the cabin when they could all find the time. Theo always sent an email using aliases and they Skyped occasionally.
Now, she’d have to make do with her best friend Trina.
You should know that the years since I joined the Navy have been some of the best and worst years of my life. I've been involved in terrible things. Things that would break your heart, Anna, if you knew, things of which I am not proud. We did these terrible deeds, became monsters, so people like you and other civilians could continue to live your peaceful lives, ignorant of the terrible things that men like me have to do to keep you safe.
Anna believed that with all her heart. Someone had to do the things Theo and others like him did. She didn't want to know what those things were, but her mind flashed to the horrible videos of Iraq and Syria on YouTube. Whatever Theo had done there must have been terrible; each time he'd returned, he was almost unrecognizable. He'd have grown a beard, his skin would be tanned dark, with white circles around his eyes from the sunglasses he wore and what men in the forces called a thousand-yard stare. It would take him several days to return to normal. After a shave, a shower, and a long sleep, he'd almost look like the brother she had grown up with, even if he had that far-away look in his eyes—a look that said he knew how fleeting and delicate and harsh life was. But no matter what he did, if Theo was anything, it was honorable. He could never be a monster.
I'm sorry I had to leave you. There is still one person I trust to help you, so when you get this letter, you must trust him. But you must be careful. Neither of you should try to find out what happened to me—and knowing the two of you, that's exactly what you'll both try to do. DON'T. You should just lay low, use false identities, and make sure to start a new life. He doesn't know what got me killed and I need it to stay that way. I want him to protect you, make sure you're all right until you get a new identity. He knows what I mean when I say he owes me a big one.
He owes me his life several times over and I'm calling in my markers.
Brandon is one helluva heroic sonofabitch, Anna. He'll look after you if they get me. He lives in Virginia, too. You should trust him. He knows you're my sister and that he owes me a biggie. He'll do the right thing.
I've included a picture of us from Iraq. Go with him. I trust him with my life, Anna. I love him like a brother. He knows how to go dark and stay under the radar. He's a bona fide war hero and whatever he's done since, he will always remain a hero.
Anna examined the image, her eyes lingering over Theo's face, the reddish-blond hair bleached by the hot desert sun. The blue-green eyes. Theo and she were so much alike, despite the six-year difference. Both their parents were Irish in heritage and had the same red hair and pale eyes.
The photo of Brandon was very similar to how he looked at the present, with longish dark hair, blue eyes, and thick black lashes. His jaw was square and covered in whiskers and he had a pleasant smile. The two Navy SEALs were dressed in their fatigues, were the same height, and had their arms hooked around each other's necks, giving the photographer a thumbs-up.
Theo seemed to like Brandon enough to consider him a brother. Anna would try to trust him, interested now in this friend whom Theo considered honorable, a war hero, and good enough for family.
The next part of the letter just made the pain worse.
I love you so much, Little Mouse. I'm so sorry I'm dead and have left you all alone. I wish I'd never left you to join the Navy now, but we all make mistakes and at least my mistake was made for the greater good. I'm glad you had Dad to help you for those years I was gone. He did right by you and now I am so proud of what you have been able to do. I'm so sorry your future is pretty much in ruins, because you can't return to your old life, Anna. You just can't. You're in danger now because of me and because of Dad. You know too much, and the thing is, you don't even know what you know—but they won't take a chance.
So this is goodbye.
Imagine me hugging you, Anna. Imagine us sitting around the campfire at the cabin, watching the fire, the sparks from the blaze rising up into the night sky. Keep that image in your mind when you're afraid, when you can't sleep at night. When you feel overwhelmed by the world, think of me and you and Dad around that campfire. It got me through so many hard times and I know it will you as well.
Think of me when you look up in the sky at Betelgeuse. One day, maybe even in your lifetime, it will explode and you will finally see a supernova. It will shine so bright, you will see it even in the daylight.
We can only hope. In the end, that is all
we have.
Goodbye, Little Mouse.
Love you forever and always,
Theo
Anna covered her eyes with a hand and cried. She cried for Theo, for her father and mother, but most of all, she cried for herself. She needed to hug someone. Her arms needed to feel another person's body. She couldn't remember the last time she had hugged someone other than Mike. Maybe Trina, after the funeral.
Brandon came over and sat beside her on the sofa, taking the letter from her hands. His arms went around her, pulling her into his embrace. She let him, her emotions overwhelmed, and she cried on his shoulder, gripping him tightly.
When she’d finally calmed down, she wiped tears off her cheeks.
"What does the mouse mean?" he asked softly, his arms still around her.
"When I was eight, after my mother died, Theo took over because our father was too busy with his new job working at the CIA office in Oregon. Theo's six years older than me but he's really responsible. He made a very good surrogate parent, making sure he carried on the tradition of leaving little mouse drawings on my things the way our mother did."
Anna’s mind went back to that time after her mother had died and Theo took over. He'd draw little mice on everything—the brown paper lunch bag she took to school, the dry-erase board on which their mother used to leave notes and instructions. On little slips of paper left here and there to remind Anna to take care of herself—brush her teeth, wash her face, put on her socks, tie her shoes, brush her hair, make her bed. Even reminding her to eat.
Left to her own devices, Anna would tend to neglect these personal habits; her mind was always otherwise occupied. She was depressed for months after her mother died, and then later, once she’d recovered, she lost herself in science, filled with thoughts of snails and stars and why water always went downhill.
She didn't tell Brandon any of that.
"He kept it up all these years. All his cards at Christmas or my birthday had these little drawings."
When Anna saw the mouse, she had known the letter was from him. What was he doing in Virginia? And why was Brandon bringing the letter to her? Was that why he was in Davis Cove? If so, why not tell her right away, that night at Mike's?