Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  The driver’s door opened. Jason knew better than to look over; he wasn’t turning his back to this asshole, and he wasn’t going to let DeeAnn out of his line of sight, either.

  She was wrestling with the bags.

  Look up, Jason thought.

  She was looking up, but it was brighter inside the store than outside, and she probably couldn’t see past the windows.

  “My brother gave you an order.” The voice came from closer than Jason would have liked.

  His instinct was to flash his gun, get these jackasses to back off. But he couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

  “My wife is walking out now,” Jason said. “As soon as she gets into the car, we’ll be on our way.”

  It was a small sound, the rasping of a shoe against concrete, but Jason reacted instinctively. In one fluid movement, he raised the gun and pivoted toward the driver. “Stay where you are,” he warned.

  The second man was slight and wore all black. A bushy beard obscured his mouth.

  Jason expected one or both of the men to pull guns on him, but to his surprise and relief, they backpedaled, scrambling into their truck and reversing in a cloud of dust, then accelerating away.

  “What’s going on?” DeeAnn’s voice trembled. “They recognized you?”

  “Get in.” He stowed his gun.

  DeeAnn didn’t ask more questions, didn’t argue. She jumped into the car, shut and locked the door.

  The pickup truck was long gone, and the guy working inside the convenience store wasn’t paying them any attention. Figuring the gas station’s cameras had probably already captured him from a dozen different angles, Jason decided to deal with the bumper sticker.

  Bracing himself for the worst, he walked behind the car. There was only one sticker, the same shade of black as the car’s paint. Jason picked at the edges and it peeled off—a thin magnet, not a sticker.

  When the light caught the design, it reflected silver.

  “How screwed are we?” an ashen-faced DeeAnn asked as they sped into the night.

  “We’re fine.” Jason handed her the magnet. “They didn’t approve of this.”

  “Humans suck,” DeeAnn read. “Wow. Really?”

  “Either there’s a human-alien war happening that I’m unaware of, or those guys were high.” He’d seen meth-induced paranoia before, though not quite like that.

  DeeAnn traced a finger over the little green man giving two thumbs-down to a crude drawing of Earth. “The alien is adorable.”

  “Don’t you mean offensive?” He laughed at how surreal the encounter had been.

  “How can anything this cute be offensive?” she cooed. “You’re safe now, little guy. You can fill in for Anita and Wabash. Our new co-pilot. What’s your name? Fred?”

  “Fred doesn’t like humans much.”

  DeeAnn shrugged. “Fred probably just had some bad experiences. By the time I’m done, the magnet is going to say ‘humans rule.’”

  Jason kept to the speed limit, kept his eyes open. It took a full hour before he could relax enough to listen to the UFO podcast that DeeAnn was playing.

  Even then, he was distracted.

  Thinking about what he would say to Cindy.

  Dinner that night was fast food. Jason stayed in the car while DeeAnn went inside, a dark wig over her blonde hair and dollar store non-prescription glasses perched on her nose.

  She returned carrying three paper bags. “I can’t pull off this look,” she said, removing the glasses. “I thought I’d be cool and edgy, but I look gross. The guy behind the counter ma’am-ed me. If my vision ever deteriorates, I’m getting surgery.”

  “They’re the wrong shape for your face. The yellow tint doesn’t help.” Jason grabbed a handful of piping hot fries and shoved them into his mouth. They weren’t any more nutritious than powdered donuts, but at least they were hot.

  It was his first meal of the day.

  They ate in silence. DeeAnn finished her shake—chocolate, of course—and wiped her mouth with a thin napkin.

  “Those men from the gas station,” she said. “I was convinced we’d been caught. It feels like nowhere is safe.”

  “I’m turning myself in.”

  Because DeeAnn was right. Nowhere was safe.

  Chapter 54

  I’m turning myself in.

  I wait for Jason to crack a smile. He doesn’t.

  “You can’t—”

  “I have to.” He opens the second large container of macaroni and cheese and holds it out to me. “This one is yours.”

  The thought of stuffing more soggy pasta and cheese sauce into my mouth makes me want to throw up.

  I shake my head angrily. “Are we not going to address what you just said?”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “You promised we would stay together.”

  “And I’m going to do my best to honor that. But I also promised to keep you safe.”

  “Don’t you dare—”

  “Being upset is your right. I’m not going to tell you how to feel. But I think I can get a pretty good deal.”

  A glimmer of hope wiggles through my fear and anger. “How?”

  “I know a lot about how the Jack Rebels operate. Well, how they move items up and down the East Coast. And I also have details on one, maybe two, dirty FBI agents. That’s valuable. It gives us options we didn’t have before.”

  “The FBI,” I sputter. “Are you trying to get murdered? Who knows how far up the ladder the corruption goes!”

  Jason stabs his plastic fork at a clump of macaroni. “You’re right. And I’ll admit this might be a huge mistake. But DeeAnn, we can’t keep running.”

  “We can! If we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

  “I want a family with you. I want neighbors and friends. With everything I know, I bet I can get a really good deal. No jail time.”

  The glimmer of hope begins to spread. “You think they would do that?”

  “Someone is trying to frame me for multiple murders. I don’t know why it’s suddenly so important that I disappear, but it means I’m valuable.”

  “Maybe it’s not the FBI. Maybe the Jack Rebels are framing you because they’re angry. It might not be a huge conspiracy, and then you’ll have turned yourself in for nothing.”

  “I’m not going to waltz into a police station and take my chances. Cindy. She’s trustworthy. And she’s connected. She can help me find an honest agent. And I’ll have her film a confession, do it legal, in case something goes wrong.”

  That makes me start freaking out again. The air in the car is thin and stale. I was already lightheaded, and this isn’t helping.

  Jason puts his open pasta on the dashboard and catches my hand in his.

  “Nothing is going to go wrong,” he says.

  He always was a good liar. I would tell him that, but I can’t talk right now. Between the lack of oxygen and the tears, I can barely breathe.

  “DeeAnn, I’m not only doing this for you and for our future. Even if we could stay ahead of our enemies forever, I can’t outrun the things I’ve done. You believe I’ve changed? Then you understand why I have to make amends. I can’t apologize to all the people I’ve hurt, but at least I can do the right thing with the law.”

  “Yeah? What’s the breakdown on that? Ninety-five percent for me and five percent because it’s the right thing? Do you realize how dangerous this is?”

  He cradles me against him, and even though I’m as frightened as ever, my heart slows from ten times the speed of light to a panicked gallop.

  “Before I turn myself in, I’ll work out the details on the phone. Cindy is the most competent person I’ve ever met. If I didn’t have absolute faith in her ability to put me in contact with someone who has clout and who is also trustworthy, I wouldn’t be considering this.”

  “If it’s such a good idea, why didn’t you mention it sooner?” I demand. “Why did we run from Vegas? Because it’s not a good id
ea.”

  Jason’s breathing remains slow and steady. “Because I need it to happen on my terms. I need you to stand by me, DeeAnn. Your support matters.”

  “I hate everything about this.” Seconds tick by while I muster the courage to speak the words Jason needs to hear. “You know I support you. Always.”

  “Thank you.” He exhales, and I realize he’d prepared for a longer fight. Did I give in too easily? Could I have changed his mind? It’s not too late—

  “Before we saw Parauda in the club,” Jason says, interrupting my frantic thoughts, “I wasn’t being framed for murder. Everything is different now. If we get stopped by an inexperienced cop, or a trigger-happy cop, or a vigilante group…” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t blame anyone for shooting first.”

  “They want you dead,” I whisper.

  He nods.

  “Jason. Fuck.” He’s right. He can’t not turn himself in. “Unless you get extreme plastic surgery,” I say, sitting up to look at him.

  He laughs. “If the FBI doesn’t offer me a good deal, that’ll be our backup plan. We should go. Do you want to use the restroom?”

  I nod. Jason is content to stop on the side of the road whenever nature calls, but I prefer toilets and running water.

  “I’m going to call her now,” Jason says.

  Her. Cindy. This woman I’ve never met who will soon hold the power to destroy our lives.

  “Now?”

  “Gotta get the ball rolling.” He pauses. “Also, we’ll be gone from here.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “In case her phone is being tapped. There’s no reason it would be, but I’m not taking chances by sitting in one place. I’m gonna get this deal, and we’re going to be ironclad, DeeAnn. I’m going to get us out of this, and we’re going to live happily ever after.”

  “Promise?”

  He nods. “Believe it or not, I don’t actually want to go to prison. Even if I wasn’t worried about you divorcing me.”

  “But I would never—”

  Jason pulls me in for a kiss, then releases me. “Hurry,” he says.

  I numbly stumble out of the car. I hate walking away from him, especially now.

  The entire time I’m in the bathroom, I keep expecting to hear sirens. And as I rush back outside, I fully expect to see Jason surrounded by law enforcement.

  He hangs up the phone just as I reach the car. “Well?” I ask. Part of me is hoping Cindy told him there’s nothing she can do, or that it’s a spectacularly awful idea.

  “I’ll call her back in an hour,” he says.

  “Does she know what you want?”

  He smiles. “She said she was hoping I’d call. So yeah, I’d say she knows.”

  Jason and I debate how to handle the next call.

  He doesn’t think Cindy’s phones are being monitored. But he can’t be sure.

  So we prepare for the worst.

  We continue north, but not far, only twenty minutes. Jason is going to tell Cindy that we’re driving to San Diego. In reality, we’re preparing to go to Canada instead if we don’t like the deal offered.

  “In the morning, when stores are open again,” Jason says, “I’ll buy a laptop. We’ll use a VPN and I’ll make all the calls over video.”

  “I don’t think VPNs are necessarily reliable,” I say.

  “Probably no one is paying attention,” Jason says. “It’s just another layer. Another precaution. My goal is to have all this sorted within twenty-four hours.”

  Twenty-four hours. My heart quickens. What Jason is doing—what we’re doing—feels foolhardy and risky as hell.

  Will it all be over in a day? Or maybe this time tomorrow we’ll both be filled with the deepest regret imaginable. My heart, which hasn’t once returned to normal since Jason said he was going to turn himself in, speeds up yet again.

  Chapter 55

  Jason couldn’t sleep.

  He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Headlights from the nearby road swept periodically over the motel, striping the room in light and shadow.

  DeeAnn was asleep thanks to the two bottles of wine they’d split while dissecting all the ways Jason’s plan could collapse. Still, he wasn’t surprised when she exhaled and said, “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  The thin, scratchy blanket and sheets rustled as she turned toward him. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “A bit,” he said. If jerking awake a few seconds after dozing off counted as sleep.

  “This time tomorrow, we could be in witness protection,” DeeAnn said.

  DeeAnn had insisted he put Cindy on speakerphone for the second call. She’d assaulted the woman with questions. Cindy had sounded amused. Mostly.

  “Cindy said most people in WITSEC are criminals,” DeeAnn said. “Had you known that?”

  “I suspected as much.” Jason reached out. DeeAnn seemed to be waiting for his touch and eagerly snuggled into his arms.

  Even if he didn’t get a deal, the FBI would know he’d once planned to talk. It would only be a matter of time before that information reached Parauda. And the Jack Rebels.

  Jason’s situation had never been as precarious as it was now, when he didn’t yet have protection.

  They lay together for hours. Just being close. Sometimes talking about tomorrow. Sometimes planning a future where they weren’t running.

  Jason was afraid.

  In the morning, they showered and dressed, but neither made a move to leave the motel. They both sensed that it might be a long time before they were alone in a room again.

  “You can still back out,” DeeAnn said without conviction. She was wearing cropped blue leggings, low-cut white sneakers, and a baggy plaid T-shirt. Jason wore his standard uniform of jeans and a shirt. Except this one covered the tattoos on his biceps.

  “I can’t.” And they both knew it.

  “Do you know what you want to say?” DeeAnn was referring to the detailed information he was going to give Cindy. Cindy would use the recording to ensure DeeAnn’s protection if the worst happened.

  Jason had allowed DeeAnn to assume that it would serve as a deterrent if anyone wanted to come after him. More likely, its existence would galvanize whoever wanted him dead. A recorded confession was damaging, but Jason alive and in court, giving testimony and answering questions, was far worse.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  DeeAnn’s face looked green, but she nodded almost convincingly.

  “Everything will be fine,” he assured her.

  He purchased a cheap laptop and a power bank at a big-box store. They drove around, looking for a café where Jason could sit in the car and still get a wifi signal.

  “This is the one,” Jason said, looking at his phone. “Buy a big meal. Eat it slowly. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  DeeAnn’s brow furrowed. “Why can’t I hear?”

  “The less you know, the better.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s going to take me some time to set up the VPN and everything.”

  DeeAnn nodded. “I’ll bring you a coffee. That way you won’t look like you’re loitering.”

  “Great idea. What would I do without you?”

  “You’re laying it on thick,” DeeAnn said. “If you feel that guilty, you should let me stay.”

  “DeeAnn…”

  “Fine. I’m going.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, Jason called Cindy through the computer. The VPN was active according to the reassuring green dot at the top of the screen.

  Cindy’s face filled the window, the unnatural camera angle transforming her long, elegant face into a horselike caricature.

  “Jason,” she purred. “How delightful to see you. I presume you’re euphoric at this chance to serve your country.”

  “Sure.” He’d forgotten how pompous Cindy could be when she was in lawyer mode. “You know, I feel relaxed, actually. This has been a long time coming.”

  “Well, I’m jubilant,” Cindy sai
d, and now that Jason paid closer attention, he noticed how her eyes sparkled with excitement. “You’re going to make my career. I’m going to spin it: I convinced the legendary Jason Traugher to turn himself in. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Spin it to the FBI?”

  “No, no, of course not. To the press, I mean. I’m planning to run for mayor.”

  “Politics will suit you.” He wondered how she planned to spin her two-year relationship with AJ. Probably “poor me, unaware that the man I loved was living a double life.”

  “Before I begin recording,” Cindy said, “do you have any questions?”

  Jason’s gaze shifted from the laptop to the café, where DeeAnn was sitting in the window. Even though she had a newspaper open in front of her, he knew she was watching. He smiled, and she smiled back.

  “No questions,” he said to Cindy. “We record my statement, you send an excerpt to your contact at the FBI, and we’ll connect after lunch.”

  “Lunch my time.”

  “Right.”

  “At which point you’ll be advised of where the Marshals will pick you up.” Cindy had explained the procedure for entering WITSEC last night. Jason wasn’t thrilled about giving himself up without the full deal in place, but this was what he was being offered. If Cindy trusted her contacts at the FBI, then Jason did, too. “Where’s your feisty little wife? I’m curious to see what she looks like.”

  “She’s watering the lawn,” Jason said.

  Cindy rolled her eyes. “You’ve gotten paranoid. I didn’t want to say this in front of DeeAnn, but you do realize you might have to serve time?”

  “Your job is to make sure I don’t,” Jason said.

  “Naturally, I’ll do my utmost, but even I can’t perform miracles. You’ve been quite the naughty boy. Anyway, let’s proceed.”

  Jason inhaled, taking a moment to compose himself. He wanted to project confidence, not desperation.

  Then he began talking.

  He painted the background of how he’d come to work for AJ—a natural consequence of outgrowing his own little operation. Which he referred to as his “entrepreneurial endeavor,” as Cindy had coached yesterday.