“I heard Ant. He was yelling for me. Followed his voice. Some chunk of something—maybe the car—landed on his leg. It was hot, so I had to lean onto it to get it to move. Melted the pens onto me.” Simon rubbed his arm where the scars remained.
“I—I got it moved. Ant tried to get up, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t looking so good. He was so pale.”
Simon wiped his face, not registering that there were tears streaming down his face.
“I grabbed him. Tugged and his leg came off. He saw it happen. Passed the fuck out. I tied a tourniquet around Ant’s leg. Looked around. Oh god. Johnson’s head. Half of his shoulder. His eyes are open. Staring at me.”
Simon was sitting straight up in the chair, rigid. The doctor watched. His breathing was fast, but steady. He was gripping the wooden armrests, his knuckles white, veins on his forearms popped out through the muscle.
“Couldn’t see either Smith. Saw her hand, though. Jenna. Her wedding ring—fuck, I never called her husband. There were bits of them. Boots. Parts. I must have passed out. Woke up in the field hospital. They got Ant out before me.”
“Simon.” Dr. K. reached out and touched his arm, while moving her head in his line of sight.
Simon flinched and jerked his arm. He was in awful shape. The taste of bile was at the back of his dry throat. He found the bottle of water he’d brought with him and tried to spin the cap off. His hand was shaking so hard, the cap fell off the bottle and rolled under the doctor’s chair. Dr. K. moved to retrieve it and silently handed it back to him.
He gulped it down in long swallows. So, this is what Ant was talking about. He was fully present the entire time, but detached. The images were vivid in his mind. Hell, he hadn’t remembered seeing Smith’s hand until just now, but there it was. He idly wondered if the ring had been cleaned and given back to her husband. He thought to find him to call when he got back to the office.
“—into meditation,” the doctor was saying.
Simon shook his head, “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
She smiled at him. “I was just suggesting that you look into some form of meditation. Mindfulness training, with this type of therapy, can be helpful. Let me get you some literature.” She stood and grabbed some pamphlets off of a shelf. She also grabbed the box of tissues off her desk and handed everything to Simon.
He realized he was still crying.
“You’re going to feel pretty bad for a few days,” she said. “You need to be kind to yourself. Even when you think you don’t deserve it.”
Simon nodded. “I’ve meditated before,” he said. “It’s been awhile, but I remember it being good. I’ll try again.” He stood. “Anything else?”
“Simon, this might get worse before it gets better. Keep your notebook by your bed. If you wake from a night terror, write it down. But don’t give up. If things go really poorly, call me. Better yet, text. I check those more often.”
Simon drove around the installation a few times before he went back to the office. Ant took one look at his face when he walked in and nodded. “I’m here, man.”
Randall came out. He looked at Simon and said, “You look like shit, Carwell. Go take the morning off. See you at 1300.”
Simon didn’t argue. Once he got back to his place, he collapsed on the couch and sent a text to Audrey. Hope you’re okay. I’m not. Call me?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Audrey walked into the courtroom and made her way to the right side. She sat in an aisle seat about midway. The room was mostly empty, save for the court reporter and a tall man behind the prosecution’s desk.
He was older, with salt and pepper hair that leaned more toward the salt end of the spectrum.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a message from Simon. Seemed his therapy appointment didn’t go so well that morning. Not surprising. Her own experiences with mental health had been challenging, and what he was going through was going to suck. It was harsh.
A few more people came in. Randall tapped her lightly on the shoulder and sat behind her. “All good, Linser?” he asked.
She turned and gave him a weak smile. “All good, Top. Just want to see this through.”
Two more people came in, a man and a woman, and they also went to the prosecution’s table. They sat and began unloading documents from a small box one of them had carried in.
Audrey looked back down at her phone. He’d been so distant for the last few days. It set her off balance, and she didn’t care for the feeling. Since they’d started seeing each other, it had been rare that they’d not spent the night together. It had been a week since the last time they’d had a conversation, and she’d missed him.
She typed out a message, Sorry you had a shit time. I’ll talk to you later. It wasn’t much, but she was at a loss what to say. Maybe they could settle this tonight, and she’d find out what was bothering him so much. As long as he didn’t confess his undying love. That was the one thing she wasn’t sure she could handle.
***
Chad Gross pulled open the door to the courtroom and stepped inside. The Prosecution had three people and a lot of papers. His lip curled slightly. Predictable. They probably had everything from the last trial in there as well. Not that they needed it. His dumbass client ensured that he’d be behind bars for the rest of his natural life. As long as Brewer was around, he had to deal with him. Small price to pay to maintain his standard of living. At least with him in prison for good, he didn’t have to worry about losing track of him.
He took a step down the aisle and saw Audrey sitting on the side of the prosecution. An older man was sitting behind her, leaning forward and whispering to her. Well. This was interesting. He didn’t expect her to show up after the crap at the prison. She was clear that she didn’t give a damn about Brewer. He’d been so disappointed to find out that their conversation hadn’t been recorded. It really wasn’t an interrogation. Shame. He’d have loved to file a formal complaint against her and CID and stir that nest a little. He smiled. He had other ways to get what he wanted out of that situation.
***
Suddenly, the doors to the right and left opened simultaneously. Through the right came the judge, an older woman in black robes. A guard brought Maxwell through from the left. He paused, jerking his ward by the chain around his waist, which was attached to the shackles around his wrists and ankles. Maxwell stumbled for a moment, then corrected himself.
The judge looked at the guard with a raised eyebrow. The guard stammered, “S-sorry, boss. This was the time I was given.”
She waved her hand and continued walking to her seat. “No matter, just get the inmate to his attorney.”
Audrey kept her eyes forward, locked on the judge. The moment Maxwell saw her, heard him whisper-shout “Daughter!” Still a possession. No thanks. She refused to make eye contact. The guard jerked Maxwell’s waist chain to force him to face the judge.
“If there are no further interruptions,” she began, dryly, “You may all be seated. Except for the Defendant.”
She looked down at Maxwell. The courtroom clerk read the latest charges against him. When he finished, she said, “How does the Defendant plead to these charges?”
Before his attorney could do anything, Maxwell spoke, “Innocent. And I insist that the prosecution recuse himself because of the relationship between my daughter and his son.”
“What the hell?” she muttered. From behind her, she heard Top mutter a few choice words.
The hush fell over the room in a wave, followed by murmurs from the few people gathered in groups. The judge began banging her gavel against the desk. Maxwell’s attorney was yelling something. It all sounded muffled, as though it was half-speed and under water. Maxwell was in her peripheral, trying to get her attention. She could see that he was smiling, and his eyes were gleaming. Her skin crawled and burned at the same time.
Audrey looked forward. It was like one of those slow-motion scenes in the movies. The tall man, the one who was there when she first came in,
turned toward her. She gasped and realized she now knew exactly what Simon would look like in 30 years.
***
The judge ordered yet another psych eval for Maxwell, noting that it was “a waste of taxpayer money, but part of the process nonetheless.” She also allowed his not guilty plea to stand, and admonished Mr. Gross to get him handled sooner rather than later.
Audrey sat there. Randall was leaning over her, rapid fire whispering in her ear, but it sounded like buzzing. Simon’s father was the prosecutor. They hadn’t talked about his parents much. Sure, he said his dad worked in legal, but she never once made the connection. She alternated between feeling like shit that she’d never asked and being furious that he didn’t come clean with the information.
She was shaken out of her reverie by Randall lightly punching her in the shoulder. Simon’s father was standing there, smiling kindly at her. She stood.
“I wish we were meeting under different circumstances,” he said, holding out his hand.
She took it. “You have the advantage on me, sir. I only just found out about you.” It was clear by her look that she was not pleased about this.
“I’m Erik Carwell. May I call you Audrey?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course,” she said.
“Can we talk? The two of us?”
Audrey looked at Randall, who nodded at her and stepped away. She was going to have to explain things to him when she got back to the office. Relationships between agents were common enough, but keeping them quiet was paramount.
“I’m heading back to my office, will you meet with me there?” he had asked, and was waiting patiently.
“Yes. I think we’re about to leave.”
Erik Carwell handed her one of his cards. “Just come on in. I’ll tell the receptionist to expect you.”
Audrey looked at the card. Standard Army issue business card. Nothing distinctive about it, except for the MG before his name. Major General. Two damned stars. “I’ll meet you back there, Sir,” she said.
Randall was waiting by her car when she came out. “You okay?” he asked.
“Delightful,” she said. “Sorry. This wasn’t such a good idea.”
“In hindsight, no. But who fucking knew he was going to pull that shit?” he said. “One thing bothers me, though—”
“Yeah, Carwell and I shouldn’t be a thing,” she interrupted.
“I give a shit about that. You keep it out of the office.” He looked at her and shook his head. “What bothers me is that Brewer knows about it.”
“Huh. That is a good question. Maybe I’ll mention it to Major General Carwell.”
Randall raised an eyebrow. “Oh. You didn’t know.”
“I sure as fuck didn’t.” She was going to kick Simon’s ass later.
“Don’t sweat it, Linser. He’s a decent guy. And don’t kill Simon, either,” Top said. “He and his father keep a pretty tight handle on things not crossing over. I doubt Carwell even knows his dad is doing this. Hell, I figured that the civilians would handle this by now. Anyway, go meet the general. Take all the time you need. If you don’t want to show back up today, that’s fine. Just let me know.”
***
The receptionist smiled warmly at Audrey and pointed toward the General’s door. Audrey knocked lightly on the doorjamb, and Erik looked up. “Come in, Audrey.” He stood up and moved around his desk to a set of comfortable leather seats in front of a corner window bank. The building was one of the original ones built when the installation first opened, and the floors were hardwood, stained with age and gleaming. What looked like an antique oriental rug covered the area where the leather seats were located.
She went to the seat opposite him. “Thank you, General,” she said.
“Ah, yes. Randall must have filled you in since my wayward son has apparently kept me a secret.” He smiled. “Call me Erik. I insist. Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.
“Coffee, if there’s any available,” Audrey said.
“Of course. Just made a fresh pot. What do you take?” Erik moved to a small bar area in the corner and flipped over a mug to join the large stoneware that was already sitting there.
“Black, please.” She looked around the room. There wasn’t a bit of wall space to be seen for all the bookshelves, which were packed with books and files. There were no tchotchkes in creative spaces or randomly displayed art work. These were shelves that were used and used a lot. Most of the books were leather bound, and most of them looked well worn.
His desk was gigantic and tidy. A traditional blotter rested in the middle. Off to his left were dual monitors, the keyboard neatly tucked beneath them. The backs of two picture frames faced outward. She assumed one was Simon and the other, his wife.
He handed her the cup and sat across from her. “I’m sorry you had to find out about me this way, Audrey,” he said.
“I am, too. I wish I’d have known weeks ago,” she replied.
She looked frustrated. Her brow was furrowed, and she had blue circles under her eyes. He’d read her file soon after his son had mentioned her name. He’d gotten a copy of the police report when she was run off the road as well. Hell of a career so far, and then she comes back to garrison and all hell breaks loose. Why they sent her here, where her father was locked up, was beyond him. Didn’t matter if they were shorthanded, they could have worked it out somehow.
“If it makes things any better, Simon didn’t know about my involvement, either,” he said, gently.
She looked right into his eyes. “When did he find out?”
“Last Thursday, when he came to dinner.”
She took a measured breath. “And what do you mean, ‘your involvement’?”
“Audrey, I was the original lead prosecutor when Inmate Brewer was convicted in the ‘90’s,” he said.
The tension left her in a wave. Curious. “Does that not bother you?” he asked.
“Why would it?” she said. “That man has done nothing more than give me some genetic code. He’s as much a stranger to me than whoever it was who tried to run me over.” She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes for a second. “This is good stuff. Anyway,” she said, looking at him, “it would bother me more that Simon knew about all of this and didn’t tell me. We work together.”
Erik nodded. “Of course. Trust, in any relationship, is necessary. But like I said, Simon knew nothing about this until last week.” He fell silent, considering.
Audrey took another drink. And waited. Finally, after a lengthy debate with himself, he said, “He has a copy of the original case file.” Fury rolled off of her, surprising him. He held up both of his hands. “No. I told him not to share the whole thing unless he thought it was necessary. Don’t blame him.”
“I asked for a copy of that when I came of age and never heard anything. That was supposed to be available to me,” she said. The edge in her voice was sharp.
“There’s a lot more in there than was ever made public, Audrey. I’ve had the only full copy of that file since it happened, and when your request came through, I wasn’t in a position to sanitize it.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“I was doing a lot of traveling. Around that time, there were a lot of issues with fraternization, and some of them had turned to physical abuse. We were short on prosecutors, so we were racking up the miles. Honestly, by the time everything settled down, I’d forgotten about your request,” he said.
“I remember all of that,” she said. “I guess I can understand you forgetting. I never put in another request anyway, so that’s my fault.”
“No. It’s mine, and I apologize for it. I should have said something instead of leaving you hanging. Anyway, when you leave, I’ll call Simon and tell him to share all the information with you. Truth is, I wanted to meet with you to see if you could handle the whole story. And if there was some relationship with Inmate Brewer that we’d missed. I see now that my concerns were unfounded,” he said.
She looked unimpresse
d at his confession. “Sir, if I may speak freely?” she asked.
To her surprise, Erik laughed. “Of course. You can tell me off. I’ve been a jerk.”
“I would never think to disagree with a General,” she said, dryly, and he laughed louder. She paused for a moment before asking, “If you’ve known about me for this long, why did you wait until now to contact me?”
“I never thought you’d show up to the arraignment,” he said. “Your first sergeant reported what happened during your meeting with him, and I thought that would be the end. And yet, there you were, in court this morning. Do you plan on showing up for the trial?”
“No. If I need to testify, I will, of course.”
“I’d rather avoid it, if possible, but his lawyer will probably pull you in there.”
“I’m expecting him to.” A thought popped into her head. “Sir, did Top know your role in the first case?”
Erik shook his head. “No. He just reported the incident to the office because he had to. You and Simon are the only two people around here who know anything.”
“That doesn’t explain how Brewer’s lawyer found out about Simon and me,” she said.
“I hadn’t thought about that.” Erik tapped his fingers lightly on his desk and swept some imaginary dust off of a couple folders. “I’ll see if he’ll tell me, but Gross is notorious for giving us the runaround. I’ll keep in touch.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Audrey drove back to her place on autopilot. It was all too much, too fast, and she shut down. Simon’s car wasn’t in the parking lot and relief flooded through her. She parked and jogged upstairs, fumbling with her key tag.
Ten minutes later, she was out the door with her go bag and her daypack full of files. Ten minutes after that, she was taking a right turn off post and heading toward the downtown area.
She finally pulled up in front of one of the better looking hotels and parked under the large awning in front of the doors. One benefit of always moving around was having no time to spend money. Another was having an excess of travel points to spend. When shit got too heavy, and she could swing it, Audrey often checked into hotels to get away from everyone. Like now. She needed to think.
Wayward (A Soldier's Heart Book 1) Page 12
