by Rick Murcer
“Hey, don’t promise shit you can’t deliver.”
He started to answer, but just then, the door at the back porch opened, and three men and a woman stepped into the yard, followed by his wife, Chloe. The redheaded, Irish bombshell, who had captured his heart and helped him heal, was carrying his young son, Ian.
Alex Downs, the balding, paunchy forensics expert who doubled as his good friend dating back to their days at the Lansing Police Department, was leading the other two men, his arm still in a sling for another few days. He’d undergone an intricate operation to attach a highly developed hand prosthesis and was still in the throes of healing. But he was already using it a little.
Josh Corner, his former boss at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, was right behind Alex, his blue eyes visible even from twenty feet.
Manny frowned. He understood Alex and Josh showing up—they both had something to say to Sophie—but why . . . him?
There was no mistaking the third man in the group. Mountains rarely moved with that much grace.
Braxton Smythe was the very definition of a musclebound, ebony giant, right down to his shaved head and Caribbean shirt. He was smiling that wide grin that was always so engaging . . . and hid his not-always-pure intent, like trying to have Manny killed a couple of years prior.
Manny had understood why and trusted Josh when he said it had been a misunderstanding orchestrated by Smythe’s boss, but that did little to invoke a steady trust regarding the big man.
“I sort of heard that last remark,” said Alex, making as quick a beeline for Sophie as his situation would allow.
“You got rabbit ears?” said Sophie, her voice cracking slightly.
Alex grabbed her with his right arm and hugged her the way people do when they mean it.
“I wasn’t married to him, but I’m missing the heck out him too. He was a great friend, the most awesome geek, and a hell of a CSI. If you’ll help me get through this, I’ll do my best to do the same for you,” said Alex quietly.
Sophie fought the next wave of tears, choosing to nod rather than answer Alex.
“I’m sorry I missed the funeral because of this damned surgery,” said Alex, still hanging on tightly.
“I know,” whispered Sophie. “I got all forty texts even after we talked. It’s okay. I understand, Dough Boy.”
Alex grinned through his own tears and held her away from him. “Glad to hear that, and you can call me Dough Boy for another few days; then it’s on. Got it?”
Sophie nodded, her own smile on display.
Josh stepped in and embraced Sophie next. “I’ll be here if you need me, okay?”
“Yeah, just remember that. I might need a man soon.”
Josh laughed.
Sophie’s grin grew.
Manny knew that sometimes healing started when the one who needed to heal gave permission. Sophie had. The road would be long, but she’d given at least partial permission.
It was a damn good start.
In turn, Barb, Alex’s model-like wife, Chloe, and even Ian, who seemed to sense the gravity of the moment, gave Sophie hugs. The big man came last. She hadn’t been keen on Braxton after he’d tried to have Manny killed. Nevertheless, Braxton moved toward her and engulfed her in a true bear hug. He whispered something to her, she whispered back, then he stepped away.
Manny turned toward Josh, his instincts on full alert.
“Why is he here? In fact, why are all of you here?”
Josh raised his eyebrows, releasing a sigh. “Because we wanted to see Sophie. And bad shit never stops coming.”
“What does that mean?” asked Manny.
“I’d like to hear what that means too,” said Sophie, crossing her arms. “How can we have any more bad crap than we’ve just had?”
Looking from Manny to Sophie, then back to Manny, his bright eyes never wavering, Josh answered them.
“It means I need your help.”
“We’re done. We quit after Miami,” said Manny.
“I know. I know. Just hear me out.”
“No,” said Manny, feeling his anger rise. Not just at the idea of Josh being here and asking for help, but also because it seemed disrespectful to Dean, one of Josh’s own.
“I’m out. I told you. Sophie will do what she wants, but I’m done. No more psycho bastards for me.”
“I’m with him,” said Sophie. “I love you, Josh. But kiss my ass on that request.”
Josh shifted his feet, his voice rising higher. “Even if that psycho bastard wants to destroy your family and your way of life?”
CHAPTER-3
“What does that mean?” asked Manny, trying to smack down the dread that wouldn’t quite take the beating and rose again.
“Come inside. Let’s talk, okay? This situation needs to be discussed around a table,” answered Josh.
“This is fine. It won’t take long to tell you ‘no’ again,” Manny said, slowly shaking his head. “I’m not doing this anymore. I have higher priorities than chasing down serial killers, watching the body count rise, and then having those dead people talk to me in my sleep. Let someone else do it.”
“I get that, but what I said is true. This situation affects all of us, everywhere. Besides, who understands insane minds like you?”
Manny glanced at Sophie, who was watching him closely, then to Alex, who was holding his new arm with the other hand, staring at his black loafers.
“True? Damn, Josh. We’ve been friends for a while, and we’ve seen junk as a team that most people shouldn’t. But I don’t feel a lot of trust right now, no matter how dramatic your statements are. You didn’t tell Sophie why you didn’t make Dean’s funeral until it was almost over. You wouldn’t say where Alex was after we contacted the hospital to find out he’d been moved.”
The more he spoke, the more the heat rose from his gut to his neck. He fought and got control of his emotion, if only to stay civil.
Josh rubbed his face with both hands. “Manny. I-I couldn’t tell you everything. Not at that time. But—”
“That’s not what I want to hear. If you couldn’t tell me everything then, why should I believe you will in the future?”
“Because it’s me, Josh Corner, your friend. And teammate. I’ve never lied to you. Never,” answered Josh, getting pissy in his own right.
Good, now we’re getting somewhere.
“How do I know that? The thing about lies is that you don’t always find out about them. Isn’t that right?”
“You know what your problem is, Williams? You think the world revolves around you. You think you’re the only one with issues or pain or friends who hurt. I’ve got a few of my own. You think Connie and the boys are in love with what I do?
“Hell, you even think you’ve got the damned answers for everything. But you don’t. You’re smart but pretty damned self-centered sometimes, especially now, and that clouds your judgment.”
“My judgment? You’re the one who didn’t tell us everything, did you?” Manny moved closer to Josh. “There’s only one reason to keep secrets. You didn’t trust us. You’re just another freaking bureaucrat.”
Josh’s face evolved into a nice shade of red as he clenched his fists.
“Really? That’s what you think of me? Fine. This has been coming for a long time. This bureaucrat is going to kick your ass.”
With that, Josh began his rush toward Manny, fist drawn and spitting fire.
Manny felt Sophie move close and then waited, hoping he’d guessed right.
He had.
His former boss never made it to him.
Braxton had moved away from Chloe and Barb, reached out a long arm that looked more like a telephone pole, and grasped the neck of Josh’s shirt.
“That’s enough, mon. Do ya not see what’s goin’ on here?”
“Yeah, but I’m still going to kick his ass.”
Josh’s body rose, his feet dangling just above the ground.
“Naw, you ain’t. You just might get hurt.
Take it easy. Be happy.”
It took a few seconds, but Josh regained his composure and then motioned for Braxton to set him down, his eyes still fixed on Manny.
After Braxton released him, Josh settled his feet on the grass, but the tense silence swirled around the yard like a cold Michigan breeze for minutes before anyone spoke.
“Are you two done? Or are you going to take out your weenies and compare them too?” asked Chloe, still holding a drowsy Ian.
“He’d get his ass kicked there too,” said Josh.
The booming, infectious laugh of Braxton Smythe chased away the last bit of stress and made it impossible not to join him. Manny, and the rest of his extended family, laughed out loud. Even Sophie let loose some.
“Okay. Okay. Now come and sit down on the deck and talk with us. I’ll explain everything, like I said I would,” said Josh, taking charge and using that gift to its utmost.
“Fair enough. But no guarantees,” said Manny, exhaling.
“I’m putting Ian to bed. So don’t start without me,” said Chloe.
“I won’t let them,” said Barb.
“Wait a second,” Manny said before Chloe headed inside. He looked at Barb then Chloe. “Do you two know what this is about?”
“Let’s just say I have a clue. Profiler here, remember?” said Chloe.
She was right. Sometimes he forgot where his wife had come from in her professional life and how good at profiling she’d been.
“I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“As usual. But it makes me hot when you apologize.”
Then she disappeared into the house.
“She’s got you down pat, Williams,” said Sophie.
Barb nodded. “I’d say that’s right.”
“Yeah, well, it seems everyone does these days,” Manny answered.
“Transparency is good,” said Alex.
“Sometimes.” Manny walked to the deck, trying to keep what was coming next at bay. Only that was like stopping waves from rushing to a Carolina shore. Especially for men like him.
He reached the deck and began to put chairs around the large glass table.
The part of him who was the Guardian of the Universe, as his daughter Jen had put it those years ago, wanted to know what Josh was about to say. It had been so ingrained in him to serve and help others that there was no denying the part of him that wanted to help.
Yet another part of him didn’t want to know and couldn’t care less about what people were doing to one another. People could be good to one another, but mostly, they weren’t.
He ran his hand through his hair.
Yet, who could ignore something that could affect one’s family as drastically as Josh had implied? There was also another factor, the one that caused him the most unease. He’d never known Josh to be a drama queen. That fact alone meant he had little choice but to at least listen to his former boss.
Five minutes after Chloe had returned, the seven of them sat around the deck table, each with a tall, frosty glass of iced tea.
Josh exhaled. “Here we go.”
“Wait,” said Sophie.
She got up, pulled an eighth chair up to the table, between Manny and her, and placed her cell phone gently on the seat. Dean’s picture, smiling through his thick beard while wearing a red paisley cap, pointed in her direction.
Chloe’s hand closed on top of Manny’s. Like the rest of them, she was fighting hard to keep her eyes dry.
Sophie’s steady gaze moved around the table, finally resting with Manny.
“I don’t care much what you think of this, and I’m not nuts. I’m just not ready to give him up. If you can’t handle Dean Mikus being at the table, now’s the time to move your ass. Any questions?”
“Just one,” said Josh softly.
Sophie tilted her head. “And?”
“Can we finally get him to dress so that his clothes don’t hurt my eyes?”
She snickered, regained her composure, and then sighed. “That train has left the station, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Alex, sitting on her right, reached out his hand. Sophie took it. Manny reached across Dean’s chair and took her other, squeezed it, and pulled away, turning toward Josh and Braxton.
“Let’s hear what you have to say before I say no. I need to get on with my throwing-star lessons.”
“Fair enough,” said Josh, glancing in Braxton’s direction, then over to Alex and Barb before focusing on Manny.
Manny noticed the interaction between the three of them, again.
“Why do you keep looking at Alex and Barb? And Alex, why do you keep looking like a puppy who just got his butt chewed for eating a pair of slippers?”
“I’ll answer both questions. Alex knows what’s going on and still can’t quite believe it,” said Josh.
“Thanks, Josh,” said Alex. “But neither I nor Barb need anyone to speak for us. I’m already involved in this situation almost by proxy, you might say. And I’m feeling a little weird that I couldn’t say anything until now.”
“What situation?”
“Let Josh finish, Manny. You need to hear him out,” said Barb, brushing her platinum-blond hair from her face.
Manny gazed at Barb. On the surface, and to most people, her body language gave away nothing more than a concerned wife. But there was more going on with her. Much more.
She’d always been sharp and had been in and around their cases more and more over the years. This time she seemed to almost, well, be involved, and she carried herself as if she were.
“All right, Barb. I’ll hear him out. Then I have a couple of questions for you.”
Her white smile didn’t reflect humor as much as expectancy. “Of course you do. And I’ll answer them.”
“Deal.”
He leaned in Josh’s direction. “Okay, Josh, let’s hear it.”
Josh nodded. “Manny, I know why you left the BAU. I know you’ve hit the wall with psychos who do what they do for some godforsaken motivation that makes no sense to anyone but them, and maybe people like you. I get that. Profilers like you see them for what they are. People like me don’t always. We just help fix it.”
Several faces of serial killers they’d caught, and some of their victims, passed though Manny’s mind’s eye. He wondered if the silent, internal shivers might have given him away. Just in case, he blocked any more trips down memory lane and answered Josh. “True so far. And have I mentioned that I’m done with that?”
Josh folded his hands on the table. “You have. But what if I told you we could have an impact on saving lives that makes the BAU look like a session of Romper Room?”
“You know what Romper Room is?” asked Sophie.
Manny noticed that she’d leaned forward, elbows on the table. He’d subconsciously done the same.
“I do. My boys like it, or did,” said Josh. “We liked being called good doobies.”
“We can talk about sixties kids’ shows later. Explain yourself,” said Manny.
“I, we, want you both to join us—Braxton, myself, Alex, and two others—to form a very special unit. We’ve finally got the money we needed from a Congressional subcommittee that’s bent on stopping some very bad people from doing what they live to do. Terrorists, to be exact. We need you to help get that done. Both of you.”
We need your help.
Were there words that carried more of a dichotomy for him? Especially after Dean’s death.
His thoughts moved a mile a second as the full intent of Josh’s plea came into vivid focus.
Josh, his good friend, wanted Manny and Sophie to go from the frying pan into the fire then all of the way into hell itself. Doing what he’d swore not to do again and breaking the self-imposed vow he’d tattooed on his heart.
He reached for his hair, but Sophie caught his hand. “You have to answer this without the hand-through-the-hair crutch.”
“Do I now?” he said, taking in the sparkle in her eyes.
“Yep.”
“Okay then.”
He pointed toward Josh then dropped his hand. “For the record, and just to get this right, you want Sophie and me to help profile terrorists?”
“This unit is and will be much more than that, but that’s a good start. We’ll be information gatherers and sifters too. We’ll have access to assets and resources you only read about. You can impact thousands more lives than ever working as a cop or FBI special agent in the BAU. This will have deep meaning on a whole different scale.”
Manny frowned, the conflict rising in him. “Oh, that’s better. Not just the everyday, run-of-the-mill nutcase with a self-appointed agenda. But you want us to profile and catch the psychos with a delusional mission to destroy the United States and commit high-profile crimes against whomever they choose?”
“That’s oversimplifying, but yes.”
Manny laughed. Then shook his head in disbelief. “Are you out of your damned mind? Why would I want to do that?”
Braxton shifted in his chair; the joints and hinges groaned.
“Manny. Do you remember da first time you and me met?” asked Braxton.
“Of course. I should have listened to my instincts and shot your ass then.”
The big man laughed loudly. “I taut you were gonna try, even wit dat Desert Eagle staring you in da face. But ya saw something on dis pretty face that stopped any shooting. Ya told me it was about da micro expressions dat I couldn’t control so well. Ya knew me and what I was in a few seconds. No one does dat stuff better den you, Williams. Ya have da gift and dis new unit needs dat. Sophie’s instincts makes us just dat much better. Dat’s why you want to do dis.”
“Great speech, but I have a family that needs the old man to stay alive and sane, I might add. No thanks.”
Sophie stood, picking up her phone. She held it tightly in her hand, searching the others before she spoke.
“I totally get why he wants to stay out. Hell, he’s got more to lose than most of us. And I don’t have any death wish or some shit like that. But what else am I going to do? Sit around Lansing or go back to San Francisco and pretend what I’ve seen over the years doesn’t exist? Particularly knowing that the ramifications of terrorism is far worse? I can’t do that. So, I’m in.”
