Simon shrugged. “I’m not sure. We haven’t been together long enough for it to come up. She also might not stick around for long.”
“Is this what you want, or do you want more, son?” Erik asked. He’d seen the look on Simon’s face when he said her name. While he was happy that Simon was seeing someone after all this time, he was still concerned, even more so that he was seeing Linser.
“Why do you ask, dad? I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m good with her staying here and I’ll be fine if she leaves.” He wasn’t so sure about the second part. Audrey leaving would hurt more than he cared to dwell on at that moment, and he shoved those feelings down deep.
“Just checking, Simon,” Erik said. “Now, I had to do some checking after you mentioned Linser the other week. I remembered the name, but couldn’t remember why.”
“Okay.” Simon felt his body heat, and a fleeting sensation of nausea passed over him.
“I’m not sure if she needs to know about this conversation yet,” Erik said.
“If this is something I cannot share with the team investigating the incident, wouldn’t it be better if we just ended the conversation right now?” Simon asked, annoyed.
Erik was quiet. Simon had a point, of course. “Some of what I am going to share with you was never released to the public. It’s sensitive. If you think that any of it is vital to the investigation, you can share it, but please take care.”
“What information?”
“Simon, I was the lead prosecutor in Maxwell Brewer’s trial.”
Simon could feel his pulse in his temples, fast and hard. He saw his father open his mouth and held up a hand. “Brewer. Audrey’s father.” He stared at the file in front of him.
Erik took a deep breath. “Yes. This was the case that made my career. It was open and closed, of course. Brewer was guilty beyond all doubt. Hell, they caught him with a dozen women. But it made the news.”
“And that file,” Simon said, “that file is all of your own notes and information?”
“Yes. Full court transcripts, my personal notes, and other items of interest that didn’t make it in the trial.”
“Like what?”
“The names and testimonies of a few dozen more women that were trafficked,” Erik said.
“What? I’m confused. How did that not make it into the trial?”
“Was no need. Like I said, it was open and shut without most of what we found. We didn’t need to drag these women into court.”
“Does Audrey know about this?” Simon asked.
“Probably not. She was so young when this happened. You both were. When did she tell you about this?”
“Last week. He called her at work. Rattled her cage a bit, and Range and Top decided that she should go talk to him.”
Erik frowned. “I’ve kept track off and on over the years. I was certain she hadn’t communicated with him at all. How did he know?”
“We don’t know how he found out. His attorney showed up toward the end of their meeting, though. Came barging in there in a huff.”
“Ah, yes. His lawyer. That man has some skeletons lurking, but I’ll be damned if I could find them.”
“Well, he rolled in and accused Audrey of interrogating Brewer.”
“How did he know—”
“That’s another thing we’re trying to figure out.”
“Were they in an interrogation room?”
“They were, because of her status as an agent. They didn’t have any of the private rooms available.”
“Not an issue,” Erik said. “Just keep your eye on that man.”
Simon slid the file toward him. “Do you have a legal pad I can have?” he asked.
Erik grabbed one out of a cabinet and passed it across the table with a couple of pens. He scooted his chair around to sit next to Simon. “I’m just going to look over your shoulder, if you don’t mind. I want to refresh myself on some of this.”
The first thing Simon saw when he opened the folder was a mugshot of a much younger Maxwell Brewer. His attitude was more pronounced in this image, which had him smirking, even through the cut lip and swelling eye. He flipped the page and saw a picture of Audrey as a child. She was holding on to a person’s hand. Most of the person was out of the picture, but by the fabric and coloring of the clothes he could see, Simon guessed it was a police officer. Her eyes were enormous, and for someone that young, she looked resigned. He recalled her saying that her father was rarely around, so this might have just felt like another trip, save for that she watched him taken out in handcuffs. The ultimate abandonment.
Simon skimmed through the next few dozen pages quickly, after finding that they were repeats of the folder that Audrey had given them.
“That blue tab,” Erik said.
“Sir?”
“The blue tab is where the stuff that never made it into court starts.”
“So, did the defense see any of this?”
Erik looked at his son quizzically. “Of course they did. There was no reason to keep it from them. At that point, their only decision was how much of it to let out into the world.” He reached out and picked at the blue sticky tab. “I wish we’d released more of it. Maybe we’d have found more people.”
“This one really got you, didn’t it?” His father looked weary in that moment, like the weight of the folder was something he couldn’t bear.
Erik nodded. “Make no mistake, son. This man was—is—a monster. Not once did he show any sort of concern for the things he’d done to those women and children.” He pulled his hand away from the folder and grabbed the beer. He stopped just before the bottle touched his lips. “I can’t really prepare you for what’s in those affidavits and accounts. It’s ugly. Especially the children.” He took a long swig. “You’re better off reading them than listening to them,” he said as he tapped a box.
Simon opened the box to find a tape recorder and a dozen tapes. “Old school.”
“Those are the recordings from the women, telling their stories. You’ll hear the translators talking alongside them.”
“Is this the only copy?”
“No. All the originals are in the safe. You can do whatever you need to with these.” He turned and waited for Simon to look at him. “Be careful when you tell Audrey about this stuff. And let me know if you need me to come in and talk to the team.”
“I will, Dad.” Simon fell silent and continued skimming pages, though he wasn’t registering much. He didn’t know how he was going to break this news to Audrey, or how she would take it. She’d hide her feelings, as she always did. That was the one tell she had. When things got intense, she either became more closed off, or she turned to physical outlets. He was going to get through the contents of the file and come up with a plan before telling her. Then, he’d bring it all to the rest of the team. Top would hit the roof, but Simon thought he’d understand his reasons.
***
The moon was high in the sky. Maxwell Brewer stared at it longingly out the tiny window of his cell. Behind him, a man lay on his bunk. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as his mangled lungs tried in vain to draw air in. Each attempt produced a slurping suction sound that gurgled unpleasantly. His eyes were glassy and fixed toward the window, as though he too was staring at the moon. On the floor was a length of pipe that had been cut and sharpened on one end and carefully stored in the bedframe. It was splattered with gore. Everything was spattered with gore.
Maxwell ignored him and tuned out his breathing. That’s what got him killed in the first place. He was breathing too loud. It was his own fault, really. And when they asked, he would tell them that his daughter did it. If she hadn’t made him so mad, he wouldn’t have had any reason to do this. All she had to do was agree to help him with his parole hearing. She owed him that much. Ungrateful little bitch couldn’t understand how much he’d sacrificed for her.
If this didn’t show her, he’d find something that would.
The gurgling stopped. Maxwell stared at the moon for
a few more minutes, waiting for the sound of footsteps to signal the approach of the guard. There it was. The whole cellblock would be awake soon. Maxwell hoped that the solitary cell he’d be thrown into had a window where he could see the moon.
Five minutes later, the guard passed by, paused, and then the Mag-light kicked on, illuminating Maxwell’s former cellmate. The light played over the wall, and the guard bit off a curse and reached for his radio to call for backup.
In blood, smeared carelessly, was one word: Daughter.
Two hours later, Maxwell’s lawyer burst through the door to the private meeting room. “Brewer! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Maxwell smiled serenely. “He deserved it. Horrible human being. Have you called my daughter yet? She’ll want to know.”
Chad Gross looked at Maxwell. Insanity defense? He thought to himself. Fucking moron, more like it. “Maxwell, Agent Linser was clear that she wanted no further contact.”
Maxwell waved his hand casually in the air. “Pfft. She’ll have to come now. Snotty little bitch. Can’t be thankful for a father who loves her.”
“She’ll find out. It won’t be from me. And I’m not sure what you think is going to happen here, but you murdered a man. For no reason. Kiss your parole hearing goodbye, Max.”
Maxwell shifted his eyes to Gross. Those eyes were manic, glimmering with something off-balanced and dead.
“You’ll figure something out, Chad. You always do. You have to.” Revulsion slithered up his spine, followed by an icy dread. Yes, he’d figure something out.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sharp banging on her door brought Audrey straight out of bed in a panic. She held on to the door frame and took several gulping breaths before calling out. “Hold on, damnit!”
She looked back at the nightstand clock. A glowing red 0412 burned into the dark. What the fuck?
She flung open the door to find the Sergeant Major and First Sergeant standing there, fully dressed and looking grim.
“Get dressed, Linser. Meet us at the office,” Randall said.
“What’s—”
Randall held up his hand. “Just get dressed.”
As she closed the door, Simon’s door swung open. She heard mumbling, and finally Range saying, “Might as well join us, Carwell. Since you’re up.”
Audrey threw on jeans and was tugging her t-shirt over her head when she heard Simon’s door close with a soft thud. She stepped out onto the landing, expecting him to be waiting, but he wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen him at all since work the day before. While they didn’t have plans after his dinner, it still surprised her he’d not stopped by when he returned. It had been a tough day, and she had wanted to talk to him. Not his job to console, she reminded herself, and tried to ignore that small ache in the middle of her chest.
“What’s going on?” Audrey asked as she entered the office. The men sat around the table, silent.
Range scrubbed his hand over his face. He looked tired and weary. “Shortly after midnight, Maxwell Brewer murdered his cellmate.”
Audrey opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She felt hot all over and forced herself to take a deep breath.
Randall said, “He’d smeared the word ‘daughter’ on the wall in the victim’s blood.”
“Oh, god.” She got up and grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge. She uncapped it and chugged half of it before she her stomach stopped rolling over.
The senior NCOs looked haggard, troubled. Simon was lost in his own head and hadn’t made eye contact with her.
“What else?” she asked.
“He thinks his parole will still happen and that you’ll have to visit him.”
“The fuck I will!” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Is he gearing up for an insanity plea? That this is going to get him into a mental facility?”
“No one knows what his end game is, Audrey. Insanity is a long shot, and he knows it.” He turned to Simon, “Carwell, check to see what the date of his last psych eval was. They may have given him one recently to prep for the parole board.”
Simon turned on his computer and searched.
“How did they find him?” Audrey asked.
“He was in his cell,” Range said, then stopped. “He was just standing there, looking out the window. Guard said he smiled and was perfectly compliant. You don’t need the rest of the details yet.”
Audrey thought about this and came up empty. “Did he say anything at all?” she asked.
“Not to the guards. His lawyer showed up a bit later, but that was all behind closed doors.”
“This goes against everything in his file,” Audrey said. “I suppose he could have cracked, but I didn’t get that impression at all when I saw him.” She slumped in her chair. “I will not see him again.”
“No one is going to make you,” said Randall. “He made his choice. He can deal with the consequences. Only call he’s allowed to make from here on out is to that lawyer of his, so that shouldn’t be a problem. They have also admitted him to the prison psych ward, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they keep him there throughout the new trial.”
“Not that the trial is going to take long,” added Range.
Audrey muttered to herself. “Coming here was a mistake.”
She missed the look of pain that flashed across Simon’s face at those words.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maxwell Brewer’s formal arraignment was the following Tuesday morning. Audrey had decided over the weekend to attend, to hear what he had to say for his actions. She had no intention of meeting with him or allowing him to work out a conversation with her. But despite her anger, she wanted to know what happened in his head to cause this. And “Daughter” written on the wall? No. Maxwell would deflect all blame for his actions, and even though it was a lost cause, she was compelled to be there.
Simon was the one bright spot in this entire nightmare, even though things had gone a little sideways over the past few days. They hadn’t spent any time together or talked since the night of the murder. He was avoiding her, and while she kept things light in the office, she missed him. Missed his touch and his smile.
She tried to ignore the empty pit in her gut. And failed. Fewer attachments meant fewer hurt feelings when she got the hell out of here. If she got the hell out of here. She made a call to big Army management about getting reassigned back to the field and got blown off. Until now, she had her pick of assignments. The radio silence was unsettling.
She gathered her briefcase and purse and left her room, glancing at Simon’s door as she passed by. He was at his weekly therapy appointment. She’d just have to catch him later.
***
Simon sat in the middle of the room, in a wooden, straight-backed chair. It was rigid, but still comfortable. He was just rigid. Dr. K. had told him when he came in to prepare for exposure therapy.
“We haven’t been doing that already?” he asked.
“No, Simon. That was to see where you were and try to tailor your treatment. I also needed time to analyze your responses with the reports from the car bomb in Afghanistan,” Dr. K. said. She gave him a slight smile. “Some forms of this therapy include virtual reality. I’d like to try verbal, first, for you to talk through the incident. All things considered, you’re pretty grounded. If it doesn’t do what you need, we’ll discuss other options.”
He’d never felt less sure about anything in his life. But he sat in the chair and tried to work on his breathing, which sped up when she dimmed the lights half a step.
Dr. K. sat in the chair across from him. “Okay, Simon. Breathe. Slowly. Inhale. Exhale.” She guided him through a few moments of slow breathing, and his muscles slowly loosened.
“Good, Simon. Now, start at the beginning of the event. Who was there?”
“The MPs on duty. The Smiths. Jenna and Greg. Not related. Jacob Johnson. Ski. Then Ant and me. We were there checking on some stuff. There were some local nationals around, too. We were all out near the
checkpoint. I was in the guard shack, going over some reports. Ant was just outside, yelling something at Ski, who was close up by the road. The Smiths and Johnson were closer to Ski, checking cars and IDs.”
“How far away were they?” she asked, gently.
Simon’s chest seized, and he struggled to maintain his breathing. The sun broke through the clouds outside and a beam shone in, lighting on a clear sphere on a shelf. His gaze fixed it and he continued. “Fifty, sixty yards, maybe? Everything was fine. Normal. We were all doing our thing.” He drifted off.
Dr. K. let him sit for a minute. “Simon, take a breath. In. Out. Once more. You are safe.”
“Everything was fine,” he repeated. “Johnson started yelling. Then the others.” He grasped the arms of the chair and took a deep breath. “All I could hear after that was some high pitched, screaming noise. Turned to look, and saw people trying to run for cover. So fucking stupid.”
“What was?”
“The car. Coming straight for us. Driver didn’t even try to be sneaky about it. Just sped right up.”
“Go on.”
“Ski opened fire. Then others. I don’t know if they hit the driver or what, but shit went right to hell.” He sucked in a deep breath. “It was loud. Even as far away as it was, half the guard shack came down. They hadn’t fixed it from the last bomb. Had to dig my way out of there. Couldn’t hear shit. Couldn’t see shit. Dirt and crap all over.”
Simon’s face grew pale, a sheen of sweat broke out over his forehead. Dr. K. waited him out.
“It was fucking hot. Smelled like death and gas and hot garbage. The noise in my head, like those blast whistles. Constant.” His voice wavered. “Sirens and screaming. Feet pounding everywhere. It was a little windy, and by the time I got free of the debris, I could see some. Not much. It happened so damn fast.”
He was looking into the past. Unblinking. Immobile.
“Everything was fuzzy. I thought it was the smoke and dust. Couldn’t see out of one eye.” He swiped his hand across his face, touching his scar.
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