by Ethan Cross
Ackerman interjected, “Brother,”—he laid a hand on Marcus’s shoulder—“let him speak. If you don’t, you’ll just sit in here and be asking yourself all the same questions anyway. You might as well get the answers and then get some rest.”
Garrison came around the bed and tried to hand Marcus a cup of coffee. Marcus looked at the proffered item as if he wanted to throw it Andrew’s face, but then he apparently decided that he really could use a coffee and accepted the cup, his addictions winning out as they often seemed to do in the end when it came to the whole of humanity.
Garrison said, “The moment the Director died, I became the acting head of the Shepherd Organization, and my first act was to shutter the entire program and call for an investigation into some of the Director’s past dealings. But don’t worry, that part of things won’t be a problem for either you.”
Marcus scowled at his former best friend and said, “That’s easy for you to say. I’m sure you’ve secured yourself a nice position with the FBI or another agency. You’re always looking out for number one, aren’t you Drew?”
Garrison turned his head and bit his tongue. Probably realizing that it was pointless to argue with Marcus, something that Ackerman had learned early on in their relationship.
Carter intervened by leaning forward, placing his styrofoam cup on Marcus’s food tray, and saying, “This coffee is terrible.” And then—returning to his chair and once again reclining his feet—he said, “I hope you don’t mind, I have some foot problems, and it helps to recline them.”
Marcus said nothing
Carter continued, “Let’s cut to the chase. The only reason that you’re not sitting in a prison hospital chained to the bed is the fact that you took down a monster like Xavier Yazzie.”
“We didn’t take down anyone. It was Maggie. Maggie took down Yazzie and Canyon and his whole operation, which was funded on the sale of stolen children.”
“Well, that’s the thing. Canyon was politically connected. If you’d only been responsible for his downfall, your own would’ve been inevitable. But as it turns out, your friend Yazzie was even worse than a serial killer. Not only was he kidnapping and murdering people and complicit in Canyon’s illegal activities as a representative of the law, but through his connection with the casino, Yazzie was able to make special modifications to the south tower of the casino’s hotel. He would then choose which guests would be placed there. I won’t go into all the details, but let’s just say that the water that came out of the pipes in the south tower came directly from a water source of the Navajo which was tainted by uranium mining. He also creatively worked in uranium dust and other small particulates that will likely result in forming cancer in all of those people years down the road. The only reason we know any of this is the fact that Yazzie had it set up that upon his death they would all get a letter explaining their impending doom and the reasons for it.”
Marcus closed his eyes and shook his head at this new revelation.
Carter continued, “You can imagine the political shit storm surrounding this whole debacle. The situation is further complicated by the fact that your brother, Mr. Ackerman, is a non-entity. He’s not supposed to exist, so there’s no way to offer him up as a sacrificial lamb.”
The implications hung in the air. Ackerman already knew all of this. He was the one who had brokered the deal that Carter was about to explain.
Marcus replied, “So… I’m the scapegoat.”
Carter shrugged. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Thanks to your brother.”
Marcus quickly turned toward him, but Ackerman laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder and said, “Please continue, Deputy Director.”
The look in Marcus’s eyes was that of a man sensing he had been betrayed, and it cut Ackerman to his core. But he had expected this. And he still knew that it was for the best.
The FBI Deputy Director said, “We worked out a deal for you to quietly accept some charges under the table. You’ll do a year of house arrest. Then some probation. I mean, damn kid, you had to have been expecting some kind of consequences.”
Marcus cocked an eyebrow and replied, “I don’t have a home. How are you going to put me on house arrest? I sleep on a futon in my office when we’re not on the road, but we’re always on the road. I figured why even have an apartment back there. I’ve got plenty of room at our station house to keep everything that I have.”
Carter merely smiled and nodded. “I’m aware of all this. I was a bit surprised that you had merely cleaned out a storage room to act as your son’s bedroom, but to each his own. However, if you recall, at one time you inherited a ranch in Asherton, Texas.”
Marcus shook his head then said, “But that was all part of one of the Director’s insane dramas. It’s the property of the Shepherd Organization, not my own.”
Carter shrugged and retrieved his coffee. He took a massive gulp of the liquid and choked it down with a grimace. He said, “I’m also a caffeine addict, Mr. Williams. And as far as anyone’s concerned, that property is still in your name. I think it’d be a great place to raise a son, and your brother agrees with me. He’s the one that came up with the idea.”
Ackerman watched as Marcus’s jaw clenched and his head twisted to the side, cracking his neck in the typical fashion when he was readying himself for a fight. Ackerman said, “You told me how much you love it there. The quiet. And Dylan loves it there as well.”
Marcus and Maggie had visited the ranch several times since Marcus’s recruitment into the Shepherd Organization. He had shared with Ackerman tales of the picnics the couple had with Dylan beneath an old oak tree overlooking a meadow. In making the deal that would secure the future of his family, Ackerman had felt that the ranch would be the perfect place for his brother to recover from their ordeal. He knew that his brother would also realize that this was the best move, in time.
Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “So, I’m out of a job, and I’m on a year of house arrest.”
Carter interjected, “Technically, you will be laid off from the DOJ, so you should be able to apply for other work. Of course, the charges that you’ll be pleading to are still felonies, so finding work… Well, we can discuss all those details at a later date. You need to rest, but it was necessary to discuss some of this before your brother has to go off to his new life.”
Ackerman narrowed his eyes at the Deputy Director. It seemed to him that Carter was playing this a bit more adversarially than was necessary. Maintaining his calm, Ackerman said, “I think our associate is being a bit dramatic, Marcus. You and Dylan will go live on the ranch, and in the meantime, I’ve agreed—in order to mitigate your charges—to work on some unsavory project that the Deputy Director has in mind.”
Carter smiled and downed the rest of the coffee, causing him to wince. “It will be nothing unsavory, Mr. Ackerman. In fact, it might even be something rather righteous. Regardless, that’s the long and short of it, Mr. Williams. You have a new life, you have a home for you and your son, and you will also receive a generous severance package from the remainder of the SO’s funds. You’ll be perfectly set up to start a new life. Unfortunately, that life will be without your brother. The two of you will not be allowed contact, for the foreseeable future.”
Ackerman leaned forward, gripped the edge of Marcus’s bed, and snarled, “That was never part of our arrangement.”
Carter winked at Marcus and patted him on the leg, then looking to Ackerman, he said, “I’m altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.”
Ackerman felt his own rage rising. “Are you having a senior moment, Samuel? You seem to be confused. This is happening because I allowed it. I could just as easily snap your neck and exfiltrate my brother from this hospital.”
Carter smiled and said, “Now who’s being dramatic? Mr. Williams, your brother wants you to be safe and secure. You and your son. This is the way that happens. Maybe, if your marginally-reformed serial killer of a brother does well, then he’ll be ab
le to join you on your ranch. His performance could also encourage me to allow some communication between the two of you. However, it’s become apparent that you feed off each other, and the powers that be—and I’m sorry to say that this was a decision above my pay grade—have deemed that the two of you are too volatile to be together.”
Carter then stood and, after ordering Garrison to leave, said, “If you do well, Mr. Ackerman, then we’ll see what happens. As of now, I suggest that you say your goodbyes. Our flight leaves in an hour.”
With that, the FBI Deputy Director turned and left the room.
Silence hung in the air for several seconds. Ackerman could feel his brother seething, the heat almost palpable, the rage almost creating a humming in the air.
Marcus finally said, “How dare you decide what’s best for me and my son.”
Ackerman rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now, brother. You should know better than to lecture me. I did what was best in the moment in order to keep our family alive. Carter talks a good game, but I’ve been around him enough to know that he’s a good man. He’ll try to blackmail me using you as leverage, but as he said, all of this will be based on my performance. And I’m confident that my capabilities in whatever task he has for me will so outweigh his expectations, that this whole matter will be cleaned up in a few short months. Consider it a vacation. You have to understand, Marcus, you were in a coma during this time. I made the decisions that I felt were best, and I hope that we’ve been through enough together that you would trust me to make some of those decisions in your stead.”
Marcus placed a hand over his face, holding it there for a moment, and then wiped it across his eyes, smearing tears down his cheeks. He said, “I’ve lost Maggie, and now I’m going to lose you too.”
“Nonsense. We’ll be together within a matter of—”
Marcus cut him off. “You don’t know how these people work, Frank. These clandestine organizations and worlds within worlds and bureaucracies within the shadowy corners of Washington. They’re going to try to use you up and throw you away. Probably get you killed in the process. Tell me that you at least won’t be working for the CIA.”
Ackerman shook his head. “No, the FBI actually. Technically, I think that I’ll be handling some sort of outlandish cases encountered by the BAU. They want to use my expertise on serial killers. Honestly, I’m not even sure if they’re wanting to send me out into the field, or if they’re just wanting to ask me questions and show me files. They want me to be the monster in the basement of Quantico.”
His brother’s tears fell again. This time, Marcus didn’t try to wipe them away. “You know, I’m supposed to be the stable one, the one protecting you. Not the other way around.”
Ackerman squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “We’re supposed to protect each other. That’s what I’ve done. The circumstances may be less than ideal, but we simply must—as you always say—roll with the punches. This latest blow is certainly a difficult one, but we will overcome. Don’t worry, brother. They’re going to love me so much at the FBI that I’m sure we’ll be back together in the blink of an eye.”
113
Marcus Williams poured two fingers of vodka into his oversized Brooklyn PD coffee mug before filling it with black liquid and stepping onto the front porch of his South Texas ranch house. He almost spilled the coffee as Dylan shot around him, running awkwardly in a pair of rubber boats that came up to his knees. Marcus yelled after him, “Stay out of that dry creek bed. It can be like quicksand. And Dylan…be nice to the animals, if you find any.”
Dylan rolled his eyes and said, “I know the Golden Rule, Dad.”
As his son ran off on some imaginary adventure, Marcus wondered if knowing the Golden Rule was anywhere close to enough. He had so much that he wanted to teach his son, and so much he wanted to say, but it always seemed like the wrong time. It always seemed like Dylan wasn’t ready to hear it. And so instead, Marcus did his best to help the boy to crawl before he walked or ran.
Once his son was out of sight, Marcus hiked his way into the meadow, past a field of flowers, and up to Maggie’s tree, which sat alone on the tallest point of the property. Upon reaching the large oak tree, he dropped into the grass beside Maggie’s tombstone and rested his arm atop the granite. The air smelled sweet and pure, the uncorrupted aromas of soil and vegetation. He had once sat in this same spot and considered the fragility of life after his aunt’s death. That felt like a lifetime ago now.
Taking a sip of his coffee and looking out across the meadow, he said, “I’ve been thinking about building a new house right here. That way I don’t have to walk so far to come see you. I mean, I know you’re not actually here, but I guess I’m sentimental. I was thinking something kinda rustic, like a log cabin or maybe a proper ranch house. I don’t know, but I’ve got quite a bit more time to work on it until I get this thing off my ankle… I haven’t seen Frank since your memorial service. It’s been almost six months now, and the only update I’ve received was a call from Deputy Director Carter where I basically only found out that he’s still alive and doing well. To be honest, I’m pretty worried about him, Maggie.”
Marcus thought back to his last interaction with his brother. It’d been on the same hillside as he was walking down to where they had arranged the cars. Ackerman’s FBI escort waited impatiently for him beside a black sedan.
Ackerman hugged him tightly and whispered, “This too shall pass, my brother.”
Marcus squeezed him back and said, “You once told me that you were the epitome of darkness, that you were the night. But I’ve come to see that, although you may have traveled as far down that road as a person could possibly go, it’s a testimony to the light inside of you that you’ve overcome the darkness of this world. I’m proud of you, Frank.”
Ackerman pulled away but kept hold of Marcus’s shoulders. “I’m the same person. Just a new purpose and a new spirit.”
Tears formed in Marcus’s eyes. He said, “Just be careful and remember everything that I’ve taught you.”
This made Ackerman’s grin grow wide. “You know what the funny thing is, dear brother. You still think that you’re the one looking out for me. But from your big brother, here’s a little bit of advice. Get some rest. Don’t worry about anything else. Take care of our boy and get some rest.”
Now, sitting beside Maggie’s tombstone, Marcus sipped his spiked coffee and continued aloud, “Maybe I shouldn’t be worried about him. He is my big brother, after all. And he’s definitely the toughest kid on the playground. If Ackerman was here, he’d probably quote a Bible verse at me about not being anxious about anything, but I can’t help but worry. He’s my brother and I love him. It’s funny that he’s really only been in my life for the past few years. Feels like he’s always been there. It was the same with you.”
Marcus choked on his own tears and was unable to speak for a moment. He took one last gulp of the coffee, sucking down a mouthful of grounds in the process. He didn’t mind.
Standing up and looking down at the grave, Marcus noticed a few spots where some grass or other debris clung to the monument. He brushed them away and said, “As I look back on everything now, I thought that I was the hero. Well, maybe not a hero, but at least one of the good guys. But now, I wonder if I’ve been just as lost as any of them. I wonder if it was really me who saved Frank from a life as a serial killer or if it was Frank who saved me. And then I wonder if I’m saved at all. The Director always loved to quote that line about police officers being like shepherds keeping the wolves away. But maybe it’s Ackerman who’s been looking after us. Maybe we really were the little brother and little sister. Maybe we would’ve been better off listening to him more. And even saying that out loud, makes me think of you looking at me like I should get my head examined.”
After he finished brushing away the debris, Marcus wiped away the last of his tears and looked down to the meadow where he planned to build his cabin. He said, “Dylan’s growing like a weed. I want him to h
ave a nice place to live. I think it’d be kinda cool for him to one day inherit something I actually built with my own two hands. And I know what you’re thinking… I’m a city boy, and the only time I swing a hammer is when it’s at somebody’s head. But I think I can find a way to manage. Especially since I’m not a luddite like my brother, and so I know how to use YouTube.”
As he examined the inscription on the stone, he whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Mrs. Williams.”
Although the tombstone displayed the last name of Carlisle, Marcus knew that they were married in their hearts, and to have had her heart, even for a short time, was more than enough for him and much more than he deserved.
Before heading back to check on Dylan, Marcus studied the last two lines of the epitaph that had been etched into the granite of Maggie’s tombstone. The first read, “Killed in the Line of Duty.” The second displayed the words, Psalm 23:1, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
114
The elevator bounced to a stop, and the door slid open onto the lowest level of a clandestine facility near Quantico, VA that now housed the FBI’s famed Behavioral Analysis Unit. The air was thick with the smell of drywall dust clinging to warm copper piping. The ceilings were exposed conduits. The floors were concrete. Ackerman had come to enjoy the smell. He had come to call this place home.
Deputy Director Samuel Carter gestured for him to exit and said, “After you, Mr. Stine.”
Ackerman had yet to acclimate to his new name, even though he had chosen it himself. He had insisted that they now call him Franklin Stine. He remembered the way Carter had rolled his eyes, but the old man had also known better than to fight him on it and that Ackerman’s little joke was harmless. Although Carter had drawn the line at allowing him to call himself Dr. Franklin Stine.
He said, “Age before beauty.”
Carter shrugged. “I suppose you are beautiful, in a predatory sort of way.”