by M. Z. Kelly
“Do you know which container the girls are in?” Olivia asked her. There were at least a dozen containers, lined up to be moved by the crane onto the ship.
“Not sure,” Natalie said, “but that Kiefer bloke said somethin’ about them bein’ next in line.”
We saw the crane swinging into position to move the next container. Olivia went over, faced the crane operator, and held up her badge. He apparently got the message, because the crane swung back over, away from the container, and stopped.
“Let’s take a look,” Olivia said, motioning us over to the rows of containers.
When we got to the container that was next in line to be loaded, we saw that it was locked. We listened and called out, but heard nothing from inside.
“Let me see if I can find something to break the lock open,” Charlie said. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a pry bar he found in a shed. It took several tries, but with Leo’s help the lock broke off and they managed to pull the doors to the shipping container open.
“Anybody in here?” Charlie yelled, trying to see into the darkened receptacle.
“We’re here!” we heard a voice call out.
Moments later, several young girls began stumbling forward, coming out of the shadows of the container. They were naked and disoriented, but they were alive!
Charlie and I managed to get the last of the girls out of the container. From her photograph, we recognized Valerie Weber as one of those girls.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” I asked her, as Charlie gave her his jacket.
She was in tears as she answered. “Yes. Thank you.”
I followed Charlie as we left the container, feeling elated at saving Valerie and the other girls. “Nice work, partner.”
He didn’t respond, and I realized there was some movement off to our left as we walked away from the loading dock. Then I heard the one word that immediately strikes fear into the heart of every cop.
“Gun!” Charlie shouted.
They say time slows down in those moments when life is in crisis. I’d seen it happen before in that instant when the fates and actions of the involved parties decide the outcome of events. I had no doubt this was a kill-or-be-killed moment. Time seemed almost frozen as the events unfolded around me.
Charlie stepped in front of me...he raised his weapon...my gun came out...boom, boom...two shots were fired before I could respond...a man I recognized as Jessie Martin went down, taking a round to the chest...then time became frozen.
An instant later, I blinked and time moved ahead, revealing the terrible truth about what had happened. Blood! There was blood everywhere!
I bent down to my fallen partner, a scream rising from the center of my being piercing the air. “Charlie, no...God, no...please...”
I fell onto him, weeping and hearing an all-too-familiar gurgling sound of blood escaping from a chest wound, then a ragged final breath.
Charlie Winker, my friend, my partner, and the man who I often thought of as a father figure, was gone.
SIXTY-SIX
Charlie’s funeral was attended by officers from all over the state. He had died in the line of duty, and the department made a point of including his badge in the memorial wall for fallen officers at the Police Administration Building. It was the same place where my adoptive father’s badge had been enshrined.
I’d spent the days following his death in a state of depression, crying until there were no tears left. Images of Charlie and our working lives together constantly reeled through my mind. I realized that he had been the one person who had kept me centered when loss seemed to be a constant in my life. Now, loss had found me again, and, in many ways, it felt like I’d lost my direction in life.
After the emotionally exhausting ceremonies were concluded, I made a point of seeking out Charlie’s daughter, Irma. I found her walking alone along a pathway near the memorial, no doubt still trying to come to terms with what happened.
Even though we’d met a couple times before, I introduced myself and told her how much her father had meant to me. “Your dad was a hero. I know you had your ups and downs over the years, but he was a good man who tried to do the right thing by others. He also saved my life.”
Irma brushed a tear from the corner of her dark eye. She was still a teenager, but I saw the resemblance to her father, both in her appearance and the way she carried herself.
“Thank you for saying that. I’m still...I keep thinking he’s going to walk around the corner any moment and ask me how school is going.”
I smiled. “I’m sure he’s close by, keeping an eye on you.”
She chuckled. “Now that definitely sounds like Dad.” Her gaze moved off, then found me again. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“My dad...he...I think he liked you, a lot.”
“The feeling was mutual. We were together for a lot of years.”
She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “That’s not what I mean.” She drew in a breath and held on my eyes. “After my dad and mom’s marriage ended, Dad was drinking one night. He said something about you...” Her dark eyes softened. “I think he was in love with you.”
I took a moment, trying to process what she was saying. “I think it’s just that when you’re partners...I think it was probably more admiration than love.”
She smiled, maybe not believing what I’d said. “If you say so. I just thought you should know.”
I spent some time with her, sharing stories about her dad, before hugging her and walking away. The thought that Charlie had been in love with me was something I was having trouble coming to terms with. I later mentioned it to my friends after we drove to the beach, where we took a long walk with Bernie.
“I knew it all the time,” Natalie said, after hearing what Charlie’s daughter had said. “I just didn’t say anythin’, ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t know how to deal with it.”
“Me too,” Mo said. “Charlie was like a love-struck boy ‘round you. He woulda done anything for you.”
I sighed and tears flooded my eyes. “In the end, he did. He saved my life.”
We walked along the beach, sharing stories about Charlie as we went. It was therapeutic for me to unburden myself of the grief that had overwhelmed me since his death. I had asked my friends to have dinner with me at a nearby restaurant before our conversation suddenly took a different turn.
“We got something we need to talk to you ‘bout first,” Mo said.
“And you’re not gonna believe it,” Natalie said.
“Don’t tell me,” I said to her, chuckling. “You and Tex are getting married.”
“Bloody hell, no way. I still got me some wits about me, and the last thing I wanna do is walk down the aisle with junior Einstein.”
I regarded them both. “So what’s going on, then?”
“We finally matched that key your Daddy gave you when he died to a safe deposit box,” Mo said. “Turns out it was with a bank called Pacific Mutual that went outta business ‘bout twenty years ago.”
“Too bad. I’m sure whatever was in the box is long gone.”
Natalie shook her head. “It went to one of them dead letter places.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Baby sis means the state controller’s office. They’ve got a place where they keep stuff that goes unclaimed when someone dies, or a bank goes belly up.”
“And Jimmy’s got a friend who works there,” Natalie said, clapping her hands with excitement.
My brow tightened. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“The box had this in it,” Mo said, handing over a single sheet of paper.
I unfolded the paper and saw that it contained a series of numbers that I read aloud. “1-740-6354-4922.” I looked at my friends. “I have no idea what this means.”
“We think it could be a bank account number, maybe for one of them offshore accounts.”
“You’re rich!” Natalie yelled. “Y
our drug dealin’ daddy left you a shitload of quid!”
SIXTY-SEVEN
I had my doubts that the series of numbers my friends had found were for a bank account, especially an offshore account with drug money in it, something that I wanted no part of. Even so, I felt compelled to check into it further and decided to call Joe Dawson the next day.
After giving him some background information, I said, “I don’t know if the feds have any resources for this sort of thing, but Natalie and Mo think it might be an offshore account, maybe even in the Cayman Islands.”
“The agency has more numbers crunchers than a dog has fleas. Why don’t you give me the numbers, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
I did as he asked, then asked the other question I was dreading. “Anything new with the Rylands and the Swarm?”
“Our best guess is they’re still out of the country, planning their next move.” After a beat, he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Pearl?”
“Nothing. I’ll be sure to let you know if we do.”
He paused again, then said, “How are things with you?”
I knew he was asking about my relationship status, but didn’t want to go there. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been so busy working cases that I’m not really sure. I guess you heard about Charlie.”
“Yeah. Damn shame. He was one of the good guys.” I heard some voices in the background, probably his coworkers. “That offer to get away still stands. I’ve even got a guest house you could stay in—strictly platonic.”
“I appreciate that. Let me see how things go, and I’ll let you know.”
After ending the call, I drove to Hawthorne, where Melissa Irving had a satellite office. It had been less than a week since my partner had saved my life by stepping between me and Jessie Martin, taking a bullet. Martin had been pronounced dead at the scene. The department shrink had called me after Charlie’s death and offered her services. I accepted the offer, feeling like it was exactly what I needed.
I spent the first part of our session talking about the depression I felt, then said, “Losing Charlie was, in some ways, like losing my father all over again,” I said. “I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut and I’m not sure if I’ll ever recover.”
“Your partner,” Melissa Irving said, “he had a lot of years on the job.”
Bernie was resting beside me. I ran a hand through his fur. “Yes, over thirty.”
“I remember him saying that the death of the Bratton family was as bad as anything he’d seen.” The psychologist tucked a strand of her long dark hair behind an ear. “How did Charlie seem in the last few days you worked together?”
“I think...there was something revitalized about him. He wanted to make a difference, the work was important to him again, maybe everything.”
“I’m not trying to minimize anything that happened, but that’s not a bad way to leave this life—making a difference and giving something you care about all you’ve got.”
I hugged my sides. “I suppose...”
“And, what he did saved your life.” She took a moment, seeing there were tears on my cheeks. “I think you were probably the most important person in his life. I’d say he went out knowing that and acted accordingly.” She smiled. “Maybe it sounds trivial, but someone once said that a life that touches others goes on forever.”
I sobbed, unable to gain control for a couple minutes. I finally said, “It’s just more...”
“More what?”
“Loss. My life is filled with loss. Everyone I ever care about goes away.”
There were more tears. We took a break as Irving let me cry myself out. After getting me some tissues, she took a seat again and said, “Someone once said life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
I wiped my tears and chuckled. “That sounds like one of those silly Facebook posts, or maybe something that should be on a bumper sticker.”
“Maybe.” She stood again, walked across the room, and picked up something. When she returned, I saw that she was holding a framed photograph. She handed me what I realized was the photo of a beautiful little girl. “My niece, Amelia,” she said. “She had something called AML.”
My gaze drifted up to her after taking in the photo of the beautiful child as I questioned what she meant.
“Amelia had Acute Myeloid Leukemia. She died last year.”
I realized my tears were coming again. “Oh, God. She was so beautiful.”
After a moment, Irving took the photograph back from me. “She still is.” She put the photograph on the table next to her. “Amelia makes me realize that every day is important—that I need to live a life that matters.”
What she’d said struck a familiar cord with me. I brushed my tears. “I want to, it’s just that...”
“What?”
“My life is filled with questions without answers.”
“Tell me about that.”
I regained some composure and took a half hour, telling her the story of my adoptive father dying in front of me when I was a child, my search for those behind his murder, and for my biological father. I finished by telling her the latest developments, that my adoptive father may have been involved in importing drugs with Harlan Ryland and the others.
“It might even be that Harlan Ryland is my bio-dad,” I said. “I think my mother knows a lot more about what happened and has kept things from me.”
“Why don’t you confront her?”
I chuckled. “You don’t know my mother. Talking to her...it’s always been an exercise in futility.” I glanced at Bernie. “A little like my dog chasing his tail.”
“I don’t think you’re ever going to have peace until you find a way to talk to her, find out everything she knows.”
I exhaled. “You’re right. I guess it’s just a matter of finding the strength to do that.”
Irving glanced at the photograph of her niece. “Maybe you just need to keep your partner in mind, and maybe Amelia. To live a life that matters, it’s important to honor the voices of those who have left us.”
SIXTY-EIGHT
After my meeting with Melissa Irving, I stopped by Hollywood Station to pick up a few belongings. I planned to take some time off and try to sort through my feelings.
My meeting with Melissa Irving had helped me put some things into perspective. While my life had been consumed with loss, what she’d said about honoring the voices of those who were gone struck home with me. I was determined to pay tribute to all that had been good in Charlie’s life, and to move forward again. If there was a light that could be shined into the darkness of his death, I intended to find it.
After packing up my things, I walked by Olivia’s office and saw that she was at her desk, rummaging through a pile of paperwork.
I knocked on her open door and said, “Looks like you’ve got a few things to keep you busy.”
She turned, smiled, and said, “Come in. I was just thinking about you.” After I settled in and Bernie took his customary stroll to his favorite corner of the office, she said, “How are you dealing with everything?”
I told her about my meeting with Irving. “I think what she had to say was helpful. I’m still grieving, but...” I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “I think Charlie would want me to go on and do the work I was cut out for.”
Olivia cupped her steaming coffee mug in her hands. “I have no doubt that’s the right choice.”
Being back at the station brought something to mind that I’d been thinking about for the past few days. “Have you had any further conversations with Laura Bratton?”
“Actually, she called me yesterday. She had some questions about the research documents that Diane Ruskin sent to the media outlets.”
“That’s what I’ve also been wondering about. I haven’t seen anything further in the press about Agrasom and what was actually in their research.”
She nodded. “I made some inquiries, and it seems t
he Z-91 documents that Ruskin sent never made it to the intended recipients.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The documents were somehow intercepted and the files corrupted. What the press got was several pages of unreadable code.”
I didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to sift through what she’d said. Then, all at once I knew what happened. “It was the government, wasn’t it?”
Olivia let out a breath and met my eyes. “Probably. We’ll never know for sure. What happened was very sophisticated. It was the equivalent of a cyberattack on the media outlets that received the documents.”
“But the children...the damage that’s been done in all those countries...how...”
When I didn’t go on, Olivia told me what I’d already begun piecing together. “I think the cover-up, the complicity in keeping the research secret, goes to the highest levels of the corporation and the government. Agrasom is one of the most powerful companies in existence. There were probably a lot of payoffs and political promises made to keep everything quiet.”
“It’s just so wrong, Olivia.”
She smiled. “I want you to call me Liv, from now on. It’s what my mama and my sister call me.” I nodded and she went on. “I’m afraid what happened...” She took a breath. “...it’s becoming all too common. Corporate greed and government corruption seem to go hand in hand. It’s a sad commentary on today’s world.”
“Where do we go from here?”
She took a long time before responding. “I’m not sure. All I do know is that we continue the work. We do the right thing, even when someone else does the wrong thing.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “We do what Charlie would have expected of us.”
I spent the better part of the next hour with Liv, processing what happened. When I left her office, I knew what I had to do. I would honor what my former partner would expect of me. I would find a way to shine the light into the darkness.
SIXTY-NINE
After leaving Liv’s office, I stopped by Molly Wingate’s workspace. We chatted about her kids and boyfriend for a few minutes before she asked me about Ross Adams.
