Page 72 of Shadows of Justice

“You finished with this one? If not, you should be.” He jabs Trismo in the side with his elbow playfully.

Trismo waves a hand at her dismissively. “More than done. Puta was spent before she even got here.”

They share a laugh again as Jennings fluidly removes his gun from its holster, points it at Sugar, and pulls the trigger.

Chapter Twenty-Three - Fresh Starts and Red Spray

Saturday, July 25th

Leo

Iwatch the brown swirls of my coffee lazily twirl in the Styrofoam cup as I hold my throbbing head in my hands. The sight of it reminds me of having coffee with Viv after the first night she fell asleep at my place. We had talked long into the night, and the whole time I’d had to keep checking myself for staring at her as she spoke.

She’s such a beautiful person, but she doesn’t know that. Viv is the thing in the room that shines the brightest, but she’s been led to believe the opposite. I hate her father for that, for not nurturing the light inside of her. But despite his neglect, his abuse, she’s prevailed. A fellow fighter.

After Special Agent Montgomery and I mapped out my deal and what the next few months of steps would look like for me as a consultant, he left me in the interrogation room to await the paperwork to be drawn up. I have to hand over all illegally obtained materials and sign my official statement on the four top dog individuals that they were concerned about, providing every shred of information that I know about them and every communication we’ve had in the past ten years. I had to agree to set up false meetings with them if it comes to that—which I’m not happy about—but I suppose it’s a small price to pay for not looking over my shoulder anymore. I also have to pay my fines, which I don’t mind. They don’t exactly make a dent in what I’ve accumulated.

When I make good on all of those aspects, I will be a free man. My name will be eliminated from all open cases, and I will be labeled as a consultant on all government records. They also agreed to scrub my record clean from CalTech, removing the investigation from my student record.

Montgomery even agreed to include my final request, which was to make anonymous wire transfers from my personal account to the family of Jacquelyn O’Hare every year on her birthday in the amount of ten thousand dollars.

I know it doesn’t change what happened to her, but maybe it’ll help me start sleeping at night.

Of course, all of this is the deal of a lifetime, but I’d be lying if there wasn’t a voice in my head telling me that this is a mistake. I always promised myself I wouldn’t succumb to this, to being used by corrupt agencies that have a backwards sense of what’s right and wrong. But, so far, what the FBI has asked for has seemed to all be with admirable intention, so even I can get behind that.

Maybe Viv was right. Maybe I am a coward.

The biggest positive in this whole shitstorm of a situation is that I will get to be with Alejandro again. I allow myself to see him a few times a year, and he calls me whenever he wants on a untraceable phone I keep in his home for us to communicate with, but it’s still nothing near to how much I want to see him.

The fresh start for Alé and I is incredible. It’s what I’ve always stopped myself from dreaming of, because I never expected it to be possible, and it hurt too much to think about what I was missing. Viv didn’t know it, but when she pointed out how shackled I was to my solitude, without even knowing just how deep that ran for me, I couldn’t stop the feelings of parental neglect that have been tightening in my chest ever since.

I know I stayed away for his safety, and one day, when he’s older, he’ll understand why I had to do it, but her words still cut me to the bone.

A painful stab goes through my stomach at the thought of Viv’s green eyes. I hate myself for what I’ve involved her in. This is why I always steer clear of relationships with anyone. Every person I allow myself to get close to gets hurt, and this time is no different.

I miss her. Every cell in my fucking body misses her, but I don’t deserve to feel that way.

The door to the room opens, and I lift my head to see not who I expect—but Chief Alfred Schaeffer.

He looks like shit.

He’s wearing tactical gear, armed to the teeth, but the man under the armor is broken and suffering. His hardened exterior has chipped away, revealing the terrified being beneath. Part of me is glad to see him so visibly shaken, because that’s what Viv fucking deserves from her shit-head father, but I also sympathize with him. No parent should feel what he’s feeling right now.

“What time is it?” I ask, unable to restrain myself. The chief checks his watch.

“Quarter ’til seven,” he says. “The call to Judge Pennington took some doing. We called in the mayor to speed things along. It’s all bureaucratic bullshit, trying to stay inside the fucking lines so none of these guys get off if they go to trial. Meanwhile, my beautiful baby girl is withstanding—”

His voice cuts off, his words coming out choked and quivering. His misery drops like a stone into the pit of my stomach. I can’t say I know what he’s going through, but I know how much it feels like my heart is being ripped out with every passing second, so at least he’s not alone.

“I tried to leave on my own thirty minutes ago,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. “Fernandez is watching me like a hawk. Says I’ve got a death wish. What does he expect?” He slams his hand into the table, sloshing my coffee.

“I’ll back you up. We could take on Fernandez together and go get her right now. Fuck the bureaucratic bullshit.”

Chief Schaeffer looks at me like he’s gauging if I’m serious or not, and I absolutely am. If he got me a gun, I’d drive us both to The Roost right now. This is what I get for trying to do things “the right” way. My fear for Viv’s well-being is making me second guess my logical choice to come here. They’re taking too damn long.

Another example of the system I’m now enslaved to showing its limitations.

Maybe I was born in the wrong time. I think the rules of the Wild West were more my style.

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