Jacob
“One thing I’m still not clear on; why go to so much trouble hiding your identity?”
It’s a question I’ve been asked more than once in the past week and although it’s getting a little tedious, everyone deserves an answer. If anything, for the sake of full disclosure.
Lee does too.
“I didn’t want past feelings, resentments, or disappointments to impact our investigations, or distract from the objective, which was to bring our collective tormentors to justice.”
“Justice or revenge?” Lee wants clarified.
I shrug. “It’s a fine line, and sometimes they’re one and the same.”
I keep my eyes on the road, even though I can feel him staring at me.
“Guess it is,” he finally concedes.
We’re on our way to the FBI’s main Kentucky office in Louisville, where David Wheeler is still being held. It had taken a few favors from my contacts within the Bureau, but we’ve been granted access to the man. Officially, this is supposed to be an interview for a publication.
The real objective for Lee is to see his mother’s killer behind bars. As for me, I simply want the man to know he may have kept me prisoner and subjected me to almost daily sexual assault and torture for three-and-a-half long years, but I’m also the one who will make sure he gets the punishment he deserves. I came out a victor, not a victim.
Agent O’Neill is waiting for us, along with Matt Driver. We’re shown into a small meeting room, where O’Neill goes down a list of rules, mainly aimed at Lee.
“I mean it,” he enforces with a glare for Remington. “This is an ongoing investigation and if you publish even a single word before we wrap this case up, I won’t hesitate to throw the book at you with the full weight of this office behind me.”
I get the impression O’Neill was not in favor of giving us access to Wheeler, but that’s okay. He has nothing to worry about, we’re not about to mess with his case.
“So noted,” Lee acknowledges.
I give the agent a nod.
“All right then. Follow me.”
O’Neill leads us into the hallway and downstairs to a secure area with holding cells and visitation rooms. He shows us into one of the rooms. The room is square, with doors on opposite walls. A steel table in the center is bolted down to the floor, as are the stools on either side. Not exactly an inviting environment.
“You have five minutes,” the agent reminds us.
All I need is ten seconds.
The moment the door we came through closes behind us, the one on the other side of the room opens, and Wheeler is brought in. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit with ankles and wrists shackled, he looks like nothing more than a pathetic old man, but I know better.
He barely acknowledges Lee, but does a double take when he recognizes me. His eyes narrow on me as he’s led to a stool on the opposite side of the table, chained to a ring welded to the surface, and told to sit his ass down.
He stares and I stare right back, until Lee finally speaks.
“My name is Remington.”
Wheeler’s eyes slide casually to Lee.
“You’re the journalist. I know.”
“I am,” Lee responds. “But I’m also Kalisa Brown’s son.”
“Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?”
I can feel anger radiating off Lee, but to his credit, he keeps his voice calm and even.
“My mother was a housekeeper at Transition House.”
I can tell the moment Wheeler realizes who the journalist is talking about by the brief clench of his jaw. Lee notices it as well and smiles as he gets to his feet.
He has what he was looking for.
I stand up as well, but put my hands on the table, leaning into Wheeler’s space.
“Took me many years to find you. It won’t take me nearly as long to make sure you get exactly what you deserve.” I force a smile. “I promise the punishment will fit the crime.”
Watching the color leach from his face is my reward.
Ten minutes later we stand outside in the parking lot with Matt Driver.
“I need a drink,” Lee announces.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
I feel weird; the sudden sense of being adrift is not what I expected. With Wheeler behind bars, I guess I’ve come to the end of my quest, but it leaves me in this strange vacuum. I’m not sure where to direct my focus next.
So yeah, I could use some liquid inspiration.
“Follow me,” Matt suggests. “I know a place. I’ll buy you guys a drink.”
“Nice place,” Lee comments.
We’re in the basement of the historic Grady Hotel, downtown Louisville. The bar/restaurant down here looks like a cross between a library and a wine cellar, with exposed brick, arched nooks and crannies, soft light, and burgundy leather seating. We got here just as the bar opened at four, so had our pick of tables. Matt chose one in a private alcove at the back.
I called Rajani from the road to let her know I might be a bit later than expected. When she asked how the meeting went, I mentioned I’d rather talk about it later. She didn’t push.
She had entertained the idea of coming along to see Wheeler, but only for a moment before she decided she’d already gotten her pound of flesh by inadvertently taking his son’s life.
“So, got what you needed?” Matt asks after the server takes our drink orders.
“I did,” Lee claims. “Not sure if it’s gonna impact my future, but it sure as hell puts a period behind the past.”
I guess that’s another way to look at it. I’m not quite to the point where I can put a period behind my past but that’ll come soon enough, when I know Wheeler got what he has coming.
“I got what I wanted out of it,” I contribute.
“Good. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to see the light of day again,” Matt shares. “This case is too high profile, given the others we arrested. A few of the ones we have in custody are spilling their guts, hoping for a deal. This is turning into a public scandal no one will be able to escape.”
“What about the kids?” I inquire.
“That was a mess,” the agent admits. “Four of them are addicted to opioids and not by choice. It’s how they were controlled. A couple of them had been there for over a year, and two were just brought in a couple of days before we raided the place. Every single one of those kids is going to have a long road ahead.”
Don’t I know it. I think it’s safe to say that road never really ends, it just gets a bit easier to travel.
Onyx
It’s close to ten when I see headlights shining in through the front window.
Bernie retreated to her room half an hour ago, and I’ve been killing time watching some home improvement shows on TV.
I’ve been spending way too much time fantasizing about all the changes I would make if this were my place. For one thing, I would segregate the guest wing, where Bernie is staying, from the rest of the house with a door. Then I would add a separate outside entrance so she could come and go as she pleases. She’d also need some kind of kitchenette. We could turn it into a full guest suite, using the extra bedroom as a sitting room.
I’d also get a dog. This farm screams for at least one puppy, if not more. Maybe some rescue animals. Chickens for fresh eggs. I could probably keep going, I’d turn this into a proper farm.
That is, if I were actually living here.
For now, I’ve agreed to stay here until the doctor tells me I’m cleared for work. That appointment is two weeks from now. I’m looking forward to getting back to work, but I’m not sure how I feel about going back to my small apartment after staying in a place like this.
The subject hasn’t come up between Jacob and me yet, but I don’t want to run the risk of making assumptions, or leaving things to the last minute, so I’d hoped to bring it up tonight, right after I give him a proper welcome home that is long overdue.
Except it’s already almost ten and I’ve been struggling to keep my eyes open, waiting for him to get home.
As soon as I hear footsteps approaching on the stone pavers outside, I get up and bolt for the front door. The moment it opens and Jacob steps inside, I launch myself at him.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he cautions, catching me in his arms.
He moved his things out of the cottage they rented in Falmouth and back in here the night I confronted him in the stables. Or maybe I should call it the night I fainted.
That was embarrassing. The man I have serious feelings for tells me he loves me and instead of returning the sentiment, I blacked out. If not for Jacob holding me up, I would’ve hit the floor hard.
In my defense, I’d just walked down to the stables for the second time that day, and then had what remained of my breath stolen by that kiss. I was out for only a moment, but I guess it was enough for Jacob to decide he should stick around.
I’ve been sleeping in his arms every night this past week. Sleeping being the operative word. He hasn’t properly kissed me since either, just a brief brush of the lips every now and then. Any attempts I’ve made for anything more were foiled instantly.
“I’m done being careful,” I announce, adding with a bit of drama, “Kissing you has become a matter of life or death.”
“Life or death?” he echoes with an eyebrow raised, as I pull him into the living room by the hand.
“My life, your death,” I clarify. “Seriously, this abstinence is getting old.”
I move him in front of the couch and give him a little push. The moment his ass hits the seat, I climb on his lap, and his hands automatically come up to rest on my hips.
“Two weeks isn’t that long,” he tries to placate me, but I’m not having it.
“I’m talking about kissing, Jacob. Maybe a little petting.” I roll my eyes. “Hell, at this point I might just pass out from frustration.”
He throws his head back and laughs. I know he’s laughing at me but I love hearing that sound. He doesn’t do enough of it, which I hope to change. When his eyes find mine again those golden flecks sparkle.
I reach out to cup his face in my hands.
“I love hearing you laugh, Jacob. I love you.” Leaning forward I press my lips against his. “Come on, Jacob,” I mutter against his mouth. “You’re not going to leave me hanging after that, are you?”
He pulls back a little, looking up at me.
“Dammit, Raj, you make it impossible for me to resist.”
Before I finish forming the word, “Good,” his hand is cupping the back of my head, his tongue is in my mouth, and his groan is vibrating through my body.
I give myself up to the kiss, reveling in the familiar taste of him, the feeling of safety in his strong arms. I don’t care if I pass out again, there’s no halfway when it comes to kissing Jacob.
“Damn, sweetheart,” he declares when he lets me up for air. “No matter how careful I try to be, the moment I touch you, I ignite like a grease fire.”
“Grease fire?” I scoff. “Is that the sexiest comparison you could come up with?”
His face splits into a grin.
“I’m a guy, grease is about as sexy as it gets.”
I roll my eyes, then I slide off his lap and snuggle into his side. If anything, I’m wide awake now.
“Tell me about your visit,” I ask him gently, putting a hand on his chest as I tilt my head to look up at him.
“I guess it was okay. Not quite the sense of relief or release I might have hoped for, but perhaps that’s a good thing. Maybe that would’ve been giving him too much power again.”
“That’s actually not a bad way to look at it,” I consider. “It kinda puts things in a better perspective.”
“Hmm. Remington said something that got me thinking about what we choose to hold on to. The baggage we carry with us everywhere we go. It was poignant, even for Lee.” He chuckles and gives his head a shake. “Sure had my mind going all the way home.”
“What was it? What did Lee say?”
He shifts slightly, angling his body toward me. Then he lifts his hand and brushes my hair out of my face.
“Matt asked if we got what we needed from the visit. Lee told him he did, and that although he wasn’t sure if it was going to change anything in the future, he felt it put a period behind the past. That resonated with me.”
“It does with me too. We can’t control what happened in the past, and sometimes we can’t even help what impacts our present, but we can make a decision on what we choose to bring with us into the future.”
He leans down and brushes my lips.
“Exactly,” he whispers. “There is only one bright light from my past I happily welcome to the present, and choose to hold close for my future. That’s you.”
His face blurs a bit as my eyes well up, and my voice is a little hoarse.
“Does that mean you don’t want me to move out?”
His eyes flash.
“Try, and see how far you’ll get.”
I guess I have my answer.