Sins of the Father

by Winter Austin

  “Did you learn anything new since … Well, you know.” He slid off the bed and stood.

  “The only update is that we know exactly how Clint Kruger died,” O’Hanlon said.

  Xavier’s gaze bounced between the two, but neither enlightened him with the results. “And that was … ?”

  Hamilton gave a slight shake of his head. “His stab wounds were superficial and postmortem.”

  Which meant Clint Kruger was killed when his neck was broken, pointing more fingers at Xavier. But why in the hell would he have stabbed a dead man? There was no reason for it, even if he was in some sort of fog; his training had never been to subdue an already dead enemy.

  “You’re sure about the knife wounds being after?”

  “That’s what our coroner says, and he’s done plenty of these,” Hamilton said.

  The coroner being the same Dr. Drummond who had treated Xavier.

  “What did you do as a marine, Xavier?” O’Hanlon asked.

  “I started out in infantry and then moved into the MPs.”

  “You look like you’ve kept up a strict training regime,” Hamilton pointed out.

  “I was a fighter. Did a lot of boxing, dabbled in some of the mixed marital arts, but that was it.”

  “So, you have the skills?”

  Sighing, he looked each man in the eyes. “I have the skills.”

  “Deputy Murdoch alerted us to your memory recall last night. I’m thinking a trip over to The Killdeer and the courthouse is in order,” O’Hanlon said. “Perhaps it’ll jog your memory more.”

  Xavier frowned. “Where is Deputy Murdoch? I was under the belief she was to be my shadow.”

  “Murdoch is on another assignment,” Hamilton answered.

  That meant his planned talk with her about his behavior last night would have to wait. Hopefully, that discussion wouldn’t happen with him behind bars.

  Chapter Seven

  It was 9:30 a.m., and the air felt like he’d stepped inside a sauna at 89 degrees. While Xavier was getting acclimated to the wildly changing weather patterns in Iowa, he could use a good dose of Adelaide’s mild summers on the coast. But, hands down, he’d choose Iowa’s heat and humidity over Afghanistan’s nasty desert heat, sand, and filth.

  Book-ended by Hamilton and O’Hanlon as if they didn’t trust him not to make an attempt to run—ha, the joke was on them; Murdoch already tried to give him that option—he stood in the same spot where he and Farran had watched the parade, staring at the place where he remembered seeing the car with Sarah Kruger inside.

  “Can you recall any details about it?” Con asked.

  Xavier closed his eyes and let the memory wash over him, trying not to force it like he had yesterday evening, which resulted in the trip to the hospital. The headaches were gone, and his scans were clear, but TBIs were tricky little bastards, and no amount of scanning was going to clear him for good.

  The moment, like so many of his memories of the war, trickled back to him, coming into focus with the clarity of color, sounds, and smells. The odor of diesel and petrol still hung heavy in the air from all the tractors and vehicles pulling floats. Farran had been laughing about something he’d missed because the glint of the sun on a car roof had distracted him. Old instincts to assess the threat kicked in, and he tensed.

  A beige, maybe tan or gold, two-door sedan made a turn going past the courthouse. That was when he saw Sarah, staring straight ahead, ignoring the trailing parade floats. It was odd, because what kid, even a teenaged girl, could pass up watching a parade?

  His eyes snapped open, and he pointed toward the street the car had driven down. “Let’s head that way. The car turned that direction.”

  With the two men trailing him, he hiked the next two blocks at a speed that surprised himself. There might be something to O’Hanlon’s suggestion that being back here could jog his memory. Reaching the point where the car had turned, another flash of memory came over him; he’d done this same thing yesterday. He had gone this way, on foot—why?

  The trio passed the courthouse, and Xavier kept going, heading for the next building. While the driver had come in this direction, he’d gone right past the courthouse and stopped at … He slowed his gait and gradually turned to face the building where the driver had paused.

  The United Church of Eider’s steeple rose to the heavens. It was one of the oldest churches in Eider and still in use. The brick structure was well maintained; the parishioners were obviously proud of their church and had put a good deal of money into its upkeep, because it looked as new as the day it was built. A white banner announcing the upcoming Vacation Bible School days billowed in the breeze. The members of this church were staunchly conservative yet somewhat lax in certain areas of their faith that other members in similar churches were not. On more than a few occasions, Xavier had served drinks to the people he’d seen pass through those bright-red doors and enter God’s domain.

  “Something you remembered?” Con asked.

  Xavier scratched his nose. “I’m thinking. The car paused on the street right in front of here.”

  “Odd.”

  Indeed. Focusing on the point where the car had been, Xavier could again see that moment. The driver had paused, for what had to have been less than a minute. Almost as if the driver was waiting for something or someone. The brake lights had turned off, and the car rolled forward, heading in the direction of the park. There the memory abruptly ended.

  Bright flashes on the edges of his vision warned Xavier. Pressing a finger and thumb against his closed eyes, he drew in slow, deep breaths, calling up the relaxation techniques he’d learned as a way to hold off the painful impending storm.

  “You okay, Hartmann?” Hamilton asked.

  “We need to stop. I can’t remember any more, and my head is hurting again.”

  “Probably for the best. It’s only going to get hotter, and I’m needed out at the fairgrounds,” Hamilton said. “Con, take him home. Xavier, get some rest. But just remember—”

  “Yeah, don’t leave town or flee the country,” he interrupted.

  Both men glanced at each other, their facial features twitching. Surly they hadn’t forgotten that he was Australian by birth? Without any formal charges brought against him, he could leave the United States, and at this point there wasn’t much they could do to stop him.

  “Hartmann, you don’t cross me as a man who cuts and runs,” Hamilton remarked.

  “But I do cross you as a killer?”

  More awkward silence. A’right, so Xavier knew where he stood with them.

  “We’re doing the job that’s put before us, Xavier, nothing more,” Con said. “We’ll get to the bottom of what happened to Clint and find Sarah.”

  Xavier stared at the two men, his tired brain sloshing through what they were saying and what they weren’t. Compared to how he’d handled killers in the Corps, they were being too nice for a pair of cops who’d dealt with more than their fair share of murders in a small, rural community like Eider. And what happened when he finally remembered the events in the park and it was he who killed Clint Kruger? How would they react then?

  • • •

  Deep breaths. Slow and easy. You can do this. You’ve done it several times; it’s no different than before.

  But it was.

  This time Jolie was visiting her brother in a maximum-security prison. Prior to his transfer here, she’d only seen or been in the same vicinity as him was in the court room, where nothing but shackles and guards kept him away from her. Now a thick pane of bulletproof glass separated them.

  Ian, wearing a dark-blue jumpsuit and cuffs, stared at her. Gone was the swaggering, good-looking youth with a caseload of piss and vinegar. In his place was a shell-shocked, sullen man with sunken cheeks covered in scruff, who had seemingly aged twenty years. He had three strips of butterfly tape above his left eyebrow, large purple welts around both his eyes, and a swollen, split lip. Ian and another inmate had gotten into a fight. Ian was the on
ly one left standing.

  This was why the warden had summoned her. Swallowing, Jolie picked up the phone and gestured for Ian to do the same. When he picked up the handset with his cuffed hands, she saw the battle scars on his knuckles. The warden said the guards had probably saved the now unconscious inmate’s life, because Ian had every intention of killing him.

  Once Ian placed the receiver to his ear, she gave him a pained smile. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m in a damn prison, how do you think I’m doing?”

  Sometimes, she secretly wished she’d shot him instead of his partner. But despite his murderous crime spree eight months earlier, Ian was still her little brother. Right now, she was all he had left in the world. “Okay, forget I asked.”

  She did not want to be here. She could still taste the fear in her mouth from the day Ian and his murdering girlfriend had broken into their parents’ home and nearly killed them all. If not for Jolie’s quick thinking to shoot the girlfriend, which sent the two running, she and her parents would be dead. And who knew where Ian would have ended up?

  There was nothing she could do or say to make his situation any easier. He hadn’t fought the charges brought against him, though his attorney had tried to convince him otherwise. What had been the point? The evidence was damning, especially with Jolie’s testimony.

  “Who started the fight?”

  He sneered at her, wincing when it pulled on his cut lip. “Fucking warden tell you to ask me that?”

  “Ian, when you pled guilty to your charges you were warned that any incidents after could change the sentencing agreement. Now you’ve been caught nearly beating a man to death. There are charges being brought against you for this. If it was self-defense, say so.”

  “They couldn’t get my lawyer to convince me, so they bring you in.” He snorted. “I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m here for life, sis, so get over it.”

  “You don’t have to be such an ass.”

  He smirked.

  Dang it, that cocky tilt of his mouth reminded her of a younger, sweeter Ian. His life had been easy, up until he decided Daddy was a bastard and drugs were Ian’s outlet. Something had changed, and Jolie had never learned what that something was. Come to think of it, all of that started about the time of Grace Maddox’s disappearance.

  Leaning closer to the glass, she met Ian’s hostile stare. “Do you remember your friend who went missing years back? Grace Maddox?”

  There was a slight slip in Ian’s mask, a tiny tick in the corner of his eye. Jolie pounced.

  “You do.”

  “What the fuck does that matter?”

  “Can you talk to me without using the F-word?” She knew it was pointless to ask, but geesh, it got old fast.

  He didn’t say anything, just gave her a droll look that screamed, “Piss off, sister.” She was going to get the phone slammed down on her, so she needed to work quickly.

  “Look, it might have something to do with what’s going on in Eider.”

  “And I care because … ?”

  “Because if Grace’s disappearance has anything to do with current events, we might be able to find out what happened to her.”

  He continued to stare at her, his features melting from anger and contempt to passivity. Slowly, he leaned closer to the glass, cupping the receiver’s mouthpiece. “Know what? I don’t give two shits.” He moved to hang up the phone.

  “Ian, wait!”

  He hesitated.

  “Ian, please.” She hated the begging in her voice.

  A spark of the old Ian, her little brother, flared to life on his face. He brought the phone back to his ear.

  “I know there’s not much left for me to do, but I want to be here for you.”

  Just like that, the new and horrible Ian was back. “Like you were while we were growing up?”

  She braced for the onslaught that statement always brought with it.

  “When Dad would bitch at me day in and day out? Or after you went off to be Daddy’s little pride and joy, following in his footsteps? I didn’t see you there when he’d slap me around for being a ‘damn disappointment.’” Ian glared at her. “Know what? I don’t need your help. Go rot.” He slammed the receiver down on the cradle and stood.

  Jolie bolted to her feet as he gestured for the guard. Pressing her hand to the glass, she watched in defeat as Ian shuffled off, not bothering to look back at her. Like a brutal man had slashed her wide open, reached inside, and ripped her heart out, she gingerly replaced the receiver on the cradle. With a shuddering breath, she scooted out of the little booth and left the room.

  After passing through the guards’ station and retrieving her sidearm and badge, Jolie stepped outside the prison walls. Gazing up at the sun through the wire cage that protected her walk to the parking lot, she fought back tears. Her parents had warned her, demanded that she stay away from him, but she couldn’t kill the desire to reach out to her brother. She believed, deep in her soul, that he could be redeemed. There was a way back for him. But with each encounter with him, the doubts began to invade. Was Daddy right? Was Ian a lost cause?

  • • •

  Jolie arrived back at the station midafternoon. Opening the car door, she was blasted by the heat and humidity. This drinkable air was a promise of a much-needed rain. She was tired of wading through the wet air like she was in a swamp. Cool relief washed over her as she entered the building. How did her great-grandparents—heck, even her grandparents—withstand this type of heat with no air conditioning? And here in the last several decades, police officers were layering up with more and heavier gear to protect themselves as best they could from vicious attacks from criminals. She shuddered to think about doing this job with all that gear and no AC.

  She gave Jennings a pained smile and flopped down at her desk.

  “Don’t get comfortable.” He swiveled his chair, turning his back to her as he clacked away on the computer.

  “Wasn’t planning on it. Is the sheriff here?”

  “No one is here except me. They’re either out patrolling or at the fair.”

  She frowned. “Why is Cassy out in this heat?”

  He shook his head. “That woman grew up on marine bases, probably enduring worse conditions than this. I don’t think a pregnancy is going to slow her down much.”

  Not likely. This wasn’t the first time she wished she was more like the Rivers sisters, strong-willed and badass. It was becoming difficult to follow in their footsteps, as both had made a name for themselves in McIntire County, so people were expecting Jolie to act the same.

  Shaking off her discomforting thoughts, she swung her chair back and forth. “Where am I supposed to be?”

  “Sheriff told me when you get back you’re on babysitting detail.”

  She halted her chair mid-swing and slid into the plastic armrest. “Babysitting? Who?”

  Looking back over his shoulder, Jennings grunted. “Who do you think?”

  “Xavier? Did they arrest him or charge him?”

  “No.” Jennings returned his attention to his screens. “They sent him home to rest. There’s nothing to charge him with at the moment.”

  “And just what am I expected to do as his ‘babysitter’?”

  His shoulders shook, and a deep chuckle made Jolie’s hackles rise. “Joles, I’m pretty sure you can figure that one out.”

  “I didn’t want to be a deputy to sit outside someone’s house and watch the paint peel.”

  Jennings raised a hand and held up his index finger. “Rule number one as a rookie, you get the shit jobs and shit shifts. Be grateful you get to sit in an air-conditioned car. As Nic so delicately pointed out to me in one of her tamer speeches, my pansy ass got off easy compared to her lying in fly-infested sewage with shit crawling all over her ass while she waited for one of her targets to show his ugly face so she could put an end to her mission. So, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  Huffing, Jolie pushed up out of her chair. So much for being
jealous of Nic’s badass ways. Never in her life would she want to spend days lying in the sun or the heat, eating grit, so she could kill someone—yes, Nic’s targets had all been evil and justified acts of war, but she still killed, and that was what ate away at the poor woman’s mind some days.

  “I’m gone. Do I get a time frame, or am I just expected to camp out until we learn something about Clint’s death?”

  “No idea. You could radio the sheriff and ask him.” Jennings turned his chair to look at her. “My suggestion—see if Xavier will let you inside his home. O’Hanlon thinks his memories will come back in stages, and having one of us on hand to report what he remembers will help.”

  “What about Sarah? Her mother has to be frantic at this point.”

  “Joles, we’re doing the best we can with what little we have to go on. Her dad is dead, and we have no idea where to go except with Xavier Hartmann. The key lies with him.”

  Chapter Eight

  A tentative knock on his door roused Xavier from his nap on the couch. It took him a moment to realize Jolie Murdoch was not wrapped up in his arms, talking nonsense to him. He became all too aware of what that dream had done to him physically. Yeah, that part of his anatomy hadn’t suffered any damage from the IED. Yet, in the aftermath of a dream about that firecracker bundled up in a small package, he realized it was wildly disconcerting to have erotic dreams about the very woman who had caught him with a dead man. Xavier’s dreams should fall more into the realm of nightmares about being in prison, not about sex with a woman who was in the off-limits category.

  Rubbing his face, he yawned. Man, he needed to trim his beard. It was getting gnarly. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he waited for his body to simmer down.

  A second, stronger knock sounded on his door.

  “I’m coming.” He grabbed the prosthetic and attached it to his stump, then headed for the door. Lifting the edge of the curtain, he peeked outside. Oh shit. Deputy Murdoch. He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

  “Yeah?”

  The blast of humidity brought with it that orange-jasmine scent of hers, resulting in an instant warming in his veins. He gripped the knob to keep from reaching for her. Showing up on his verandah this soon after his intimate dream about her was dangerous. He should rejoice over the fact that he again found a woman desirable—especially when he knew he couldn’t be the kind of man any woman needed—but not at the cost of the current situation he was in with Jolie Murdoch.