Well, there weren’t secrets now. And now that it was open, Audrey had some choices to make. After she got through the meeting.
The meeting. Simon had talked her through a lot of scenarios. Listened to her rant. His questions had given her a lot of insight. She was way too close to see everything. Still was, but she had a plan. Hopefully it worked.
The unknown of it all bothered her. Too many unanswered questions, no connection between him and the attempted drive by. The timing was awfully convenient, so much so that she couldn’t wave it off.
And then there was the biggest question: how did he find her?
She put the last pin in her braid, gathered her things, and headed over to the office. Simon was already at his desk and Randall was sitting in Antony’s chair. From the way they were laughing, it had to be one of Top’s old field stories.
“There you are,” Randall said, when she came around the corner. “Visiting hours start at 0800, but we’ll wait a little while. Maybe catch him right before lunch. What do you think?”
“If you want, but I’d really rather just get this shit over with, Top.”
The First Sergeant looked down at his watch. “You’re right. It’ll take us about an hour to get there. The prison is outside of the city, so we will miss the worst of the traffic.” He took a swig of coffee. “You come up with anything over the weekend?”
“Nothing.” She nodded toward Simon. “Carwell had a look, too.”
Antony came in, carrying a large bag that smelled like breakfast. “Even got one for you, Linser,” he said, scooting by her. He sat down at the table in the middle of the room and started tossing biscuits to everyone. “Didn’t mean to kill the convo,” he said, looking around, puzzled. “What’s the convo?”
“We were talking about Inmate Brewer,” Audrey said. She set down the biscuit he’d tossed her way, grabbed the thick folder and handed it to him. “Everyone else knows, so bring yourself up to speed.”
He flipped it open with one hand, while the other was moving his bacon and egg sandwich toward his mouth. On the left side of the folder was the mugshot of Maxwell. The top sheet on the right listed his vital statistics.
She saw the exact moment that he registered her name on that sheet. He froze, mouth open. The hand holding the sandwich went slack, and a piece of bacon fell out, narrowly missing the smirking face of Maxwell. He picked it up and wiped a spot of grease off the image.
Antony looked up at her, eyebrows raised high. “Huh. Well, I’m an asshole,” he said.
“Yeah. You are. But not about this,” she said. He snorted. “Anyway, there’s the big, dreadful secret I’ve been hiding since last week. Enjoy.”
Randall looked between the two and raised an eyebrow. “Linser, is there anything else you need to do to prepare?”
She placed her hand on her chest. “No, but I might need some antacid.”
He nodded in sympathy. “I get it. We’ll stop on the way and pick some up for you. In fact, let’s get going. They’re expecting us, but it’ll still take us a bit of time to sign in.”
“Just the two of us, yes?” she asked. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
“Yep. The Sergeant Major will meet us there. More eyes watching and all that,” he said. “Give me a minute.”
Antony whistled low and closed the folder. “So, how’d he orchestrate a hit and run from prison?”
“I don’t think he did. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence, but for the life of me, I can’t think of any connection. That’s why I’m stuck going. I’d rather do anything else but go see him.”
Randall walked back into the room, and Audrey followed him out the door. As she walked by Simon’s desk, he gave her a wink and smile. An odd flutter passed through her, and she filed the sensation away for later.
***
The ride to the federal correctional complex was mostly silent. Randall knew to give her space to think about the visit, and she was thankful for that. A slow-burn anger had replaced the sick feeling she’d had earlier. As they drove, she watched those distant, white towers grow as they got closer to the prison compound. She focused on her breathing and considered how to best approach the meeting. The only thing she wanted to know from him is how he’d learned of her arrival, but she’d have to be careful on how to approach that.
Randall pulled through the gate, wound around a few streets, and up to the sally port and slid his ID in the reader. The light flashed green, and the door opened. The area was huge, and off to the right was a parking area for guards and certain visitors, mostly lawyers and law enforcement. Randall slid the car into a slot marked for visiting agencies and turned off the ignition.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” she said. “The faster I do this, the faster things can get back to normal.”
He looked at her. “Normal?” he asked.
She nodded. “Well, whatever normal is around here. For however long I’m here.”
“Don’t get your hopes up here, Linser. Most agents don’t spend nearly as long as you have out there.”
She’d half expected to hear that. He wasn’t wrong, but she was feeling caged. Going into a prison, especially this one which housed her father, made her antsy. She opened her door. “I know, Top. Let’s just settle this business first, and then we can talk about getting me gone later.”
***
“Daughter.”
“Inmate Brewer,” she replied. His nostrils flared slightly.
“Father,” he spat back. “I am your father, and you will call me that.” Eyes the same shade of deep brown as hers stared her down, daring her.
She stood. “Very well. This visit is over.” She walked to the door and hit the buzzer next to it.
“Okay, okay. Agent Linser,” he said, emphasizing each syllable. “If this is how you want to treat your dad.”
Audrey smiled at the guard who had opened the door and shook her head. “While you contributed to my genetic code, your contributions as a father figure have been,” she paused and tilted her head slightly. “Lacking.” She gestured toward the table. “Sit.”
He stood for a few seconds, staring hard. Finally, he pulled back his chair and sat down. He was furious. She wanted him off kilter. The psych evals in his file discussed his overwhelming need for control, and the disciplinary write-ups he had revolved around that control, and situations where he was made inadequate. His persona was carefully crafted, and she’d just poked holes in it. Were they not in a prison visiting room being monitored, he’d attack.
She looked at him. He was still quite handsome and in good shape for a man his age. His eyes, though. His eyes told another story, one that matched his file.
People like him didn’t do well in prison. People who sold others, especially children, into slavery like he had were lucky if they didn’t end up on the underside of the ground in their first year. Or maybe not so lucky. His medical record was almost as long as his trial notes, and just as gory. To say that he’d had a hard time in prison was like saying it was breezy in a hurricane. The only reason he was still alive was because he was in a sequestered unit. Not untouchable, but surrounded by people who were in the same category of shitbag. Were he in general pop, he’d have been dead years ago.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Only to see my daughter,” he said.
“Oh, cut the doting father act, Brewer, it’s degrading to both of us.” Audrey said sharply.
He placed both hands flat on the table, fingers splayed. “You haven’t come to see me, daughter. Not once in over 20 years. I haven’t seen a picture, not read a word. I’m very disappointed in you.”
“One more time with the daughter shit and I’m out,” she said. “Now, what do you want?”
“You’re an ungrateful bitch, you know that?” he spat at her. “Everything I did, I did for your future.”
Audrey cocked her head to the side, incredulous. “Seriously? That’s what yo
u’re coming at me with? You did it all for me? You kidnapped and sold women and children into slavery for me?”
“Those women were better—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “You didn’t give two fucks what happened to those people, as long as you got the money for them.” She leaned forward and stared at him. “You sold toddlers to pedophiles, you sick fuck. You don’t get to claim me as family and say that it was all to help me. The only person you were ever interested in helping was yourself. Now, Inmate Brewer, what the fuck do you want?”
She heard a low rumble coming from him. The idiot was growling at her. His eyes were blazing and wide and he stared, unblinking. She settled back in her chair and watched, curious. Once he realized he wasn’t getting a fear response, he shook his head and smiled at her.
“I want my life back. And I want you to help me get it. My parole hearing is in a few weeks and I want you to be there,” he said. He blinked a few times. “I want a relationship with you. I—I want to try.”
Audrey stood up and looked down at him. “You can have your life when the people you sold get their lives back, Inmate. As far as us playing happy family? Not happening. You’ve seen me. You’ve said your piece. Don’t conta—”
The door flew open and a tall man with jet black hair came strolling in. He was well dressed, grey wool, pinstriped. Double breasted. Even had a pocket square that matched his tie. His briefcase was old, traditional, and the leather was well worn. Audrey felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck and arms bristle as she looked at this stranger.
He looked down at Maxwell and then up to Audrey. “Why was I not informed that my client was being interrogated?” he snapped.
“Because he’s not,” Audrey replied. “Your client? You are?” She waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. He stepped toward her with his hand out and a brilliant smile plastered to his face. His eyes were cold. “Chad Gross.”
Audrey didn’t move to shake his hand. He stood there awkwardly for a few more seconds and dropped his hand, his face still holding a feral smile. “Agent Linser, but you knew that.”
“I did. Again, agent, why wasn’t I called? I will file a formal complaint with the prison for this. This violates—”
She cut him off. “Yeah, again, Mr. Gross, this wasn’t an interrogation.”
“Then why the interrogation room?” he asked.
“Because an agent visiting an inmate in the general visiting quarters is frowned upon, especially if there is a familial relationship,” she said.
“There are plenty of other meeting rooms—” he began.
“No. There aren’t. Not today. Check with the warden if you like. Anyway,” she said, looking at her watch, “I’ve got work to do.” Gross would never find out the orchestration they’d done to ensure she’d be meeting Brewer in an interrogation room. Some lucky families got to have more private meetings with their loved ones because of him.
Maxwell opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand. “Don’t.” Audrey shook her head. “As I was saying before we were interrupted, do not contact me again, Inmate Brewer. And now, it’s on record with your lawyer.”
Once the door clicked closed behind her, she shook out her hands, willing them to stop shaking. She rounded the corner and stopped, taking a few deep breaths. Her heart pounded so hard, she could feel her pulse in her neck and her fingertips. That lawyer threw her for a loop. Where the hell had he come from?
The Sergeant Major came around the corner. “All good, Linser?”
She shook her hands out one more time. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
Range held out his arm, pointing the way, and followed her out of the prison.
***
Audrey found Brewer’s file on the corner of her desk. Simon and Antony had been talking when she walked in, but had fallen silent, waiting.
“Curiosity satisfied?” she asked as she dropped her bag on her desk.
“Oh yeah. Don’t think I’d talk about him much either,” Antony said. “I imagine he’s not on your Christmas card list.”
She chuckled. “Not so much.” She saw the anticipation on their faces and tried to think of where to start when Randall walked in.
“I don’t think he’s done yet,” Randall said.
Audrey asked, “You think his lawyer’s going to file a complaint?”
“Knowing him, probably, but it doesn’t matter. All it’ll be is him whining.”
“You get what you needed out of him?” Simon asked. He was leaning back in his chair, one foot up on the corner of his desk.
Audrey had been staring at him, partly in appreciation, and partly lost in her head, when he spoke, and she came to and met his eyes, flushing a little.
“Eh. It wasn’t him. But he’s coming up on a parole hearing soon,” she replied. “Was his lawyer scheduled to show up today?” she asked, turning toward Randall. “That timing was too convenient, and it’s like he knew I was there.”
Randall nodded in agreement. “Yeah. That shit’s been bugging me, too.”
“Wait, his lawyer?” Simon asked.
“Yeah. Busted in there just as I was getting ready to leave, claiming that I was interrogating Brewer. We don’t know if he knew I was coming, or if he just showed up.”
“I’m not one for coincidences like that. Who’s the lawyer?” Simon asked.
“Chad Gross,” Audrey answered. “Slimy guy. Well dressed. Good looking, but skeezy.”
“Oh, we know him,” Simon said. He shared a look with Antony, who was scowling.
“You do?”
“Oh yeah. He’s made his little empire as a defense lawyer here in town. He takes cases no one with half a conscience will touch.” Simon jerked his head toward Antony. “He’s had some great times with the jerk.”
Ramos breathed in and rolled his eyes. “Great times. Bastard.”
“Do I wanna know?” Audrey asked.
“Probably not. Let’s just say that he likes to defend sexual predators and leave it at that.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Simon looked at his watch and began shuffling papers back into their folders. He’d spent some extra time going through paperwork and making notes based on the information that Audrey had shared about her visit to the prison that day. On first glance, nothing stood out, but making lists and letting them sit overnight often gave him new avenues to research and question. He set his pen down and looked at the legal pad. There was a lot to stew on.
He was also sure that if he didn’t get his ass in gear, he was going to be late for dinner. He double checked the office door before getting into his car. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into his parent’s driveway. Before he could knock, his father opened the door and smiled.
“Busy day, son?” he asked.
Simon smiled. “You have no idea.” He took off his shoes at the door and accepted the beer his father was holding out to him and took a long swallow. “Someone tried to run Linser over last week.”
Erik looked at him in shock. “What? Where?” They entered the den and Simon flopped on the couch, across from his father’s recliner.
“Back forty. She was running out near Sierra.”
“Shit. Any leads yet?”
“No. The car was a rental, and we’re still waiting on records. You know how they move without a warrant. They’d also taken the plate off after coming in the gate. We have the gate records, but that’s a few thousand entries to go through. Only thing we’re trying to see is if there’s a connection between this and her father suddenly calling her.”
Erik opened his mouth to say something, but Simon’s mother came in and announced dinner. It could wait.
It seemed to Simon that someone had thrown a switch with his father. He was exceptionally quiet during dinner and wasn’t making eye contact. The General wasn’t known for being the cuddly sort, but this was on a different level. He was deeply troubled about something.
“Erik, love, what’s gotten into you
?” his mother asked, eyebrows drawn.
Erik shook his head slightly and smiled, grasping her hand and squeezing it. “It’s nothing, Helena. Something I’ve been puzzling over. I’m fine.”
Simon tried to focus on the food. It was, as always, delicious. His mother was a classically trained chef in her youth and still loved to be in the kitchen when she could. He talked with his mother about his therapy. His father had drifted back off into himself, commenting in monosyllabic words when appropriate.
After dinner, Erik took Simon to his office. He closed the door behind him. “Have a seat, Simon. Let’s talk.”
Simon sunk into one of the two deep brown leather chairs placed in front of an ancient mahogany desk that was large enough to sleep on. They never hung out in the office. This was a place for his father to work and, Simon suspected, escape from the rest of the world. Behind the desk was a bank of floor to ceiling windows which overlooked the mountains in the distance. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the sky was red, stretching up into the purples and blues of the night. Floor to ceiling bookcases lined the walls, stuffed with leather-bound tomes, mostly legal texts, except for the collection of classics he read in the evenings to Simon when he was a kid. Erik dug a key out of the pencil drawer on the large wooden desk and walked to his filing cabinet. There, he pulled a thick folder out of the bottom drawer. It appeared to be the only thing in there and it was huge, at least a few inches thick. He was also wrong about it being the only object in the drawer, as Erik pulled out a box next.
Instead of sitting across the desk from him, Erik sat in the seat near him. “What is your relationship with Linser, Simon?”
Simon started. “Uh. Well, we’re seeing each other.”
“Is it serious?” Erik asked.
Wayward (A Soldier's Heart Book 1) Page 10
