Page 22 of Special Agent Isabella

“I do? I think I like that.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head. I’ll still be the boss, got it.”

“Got it. Can I brush your hair? I brought a new brush down from the guest bathroom in case you’d let me.”

“Fine. But be gentle. No pulling or I’ll whine… a lot. Maybe even snivel or cry.”

Giggling, Abbie moved behind Bella and before she knew it would happen, little arms went around her neck from the back and Abbie gave her a lovely hug. “I love you, Bella. I’ll be good.”

Totally choked up, all she could do was nod.

When the silence lasted and Abbie didn’t move, she forced words out through her dry lips. “You’re a good kid. Now brush, or I’ll change my mind.”

Abbie laughed and started brushing.

ChapterEighteen

Later in the day, going on instinct that the shooter might have more to tell them about the group he’d been involved with online, Tanner stood behind the door where he’d begin his interrogation.

Intending to start off as if he already had pertinent information, he’d be digging to discover more. Like maybe the head of the online group, the piece of shit that targeted people in distress. Truth being that so far they’d learned very little after they got the warrant to investigate the shooter, Richard Brunner’s, apartment. Now he hoped to get more from the culprit himself.

Living in one of the many slum districts, Brunner’s place would be a depressing home for anyone stuck with a disability, which they now know he had. The post office where he worked had discharged him two years previously because of a back injury. He’d gone to social services, but their follow-up had been dismal to say the least, and the man had slipped through the cracks in the system.

Stuck in the small three-room hovel that boasted yard-sale furniture, Richard had been surrounded by depression, both inside his head and his surroundings. A bed, a small TV, a huge monitor on a crappy kitchen table with a PC that had seen better days, and the two other broken-down pieces that held his belongings only added to the sense of despair.

The moment they’d stepped through the door, the stench of a place closed to the fresh air hit them hard. Heading to the grimy window to open it and get some circulation, Tanner and two of the other agents with him did a search that took a short time.

The garbage they found online basically took up their entire investigation. Seeing as how the computer wasn’t even password protected, they were able to get into his files within a matter of minutes. Easy to see that the man had little actual skills, he’d been like millions of others, sadly sucked in by the ongoing rhetoric.

Easily found on his computer’s desktop, he had a folder with various links that took them to the groups where Richard must have spent most of his time. Massive amounts of conspiracy theories made up the bulk of the material.

The chat rooms he’d inhabited were basically filled with sad folks who had too much time on their hands. They needed something to fill the void in their otherwise empty, crappy lives and so they paired up with each other, encouraging malcontent and hatred for anything that didn’t fit in with their own philosophies. Beliefs that were flawed and based on lies and opinions rather than facts and the truth.

Tanner had seen so much of this type of bullshit that the bile in his stomach began to flare. What a fucking waste of good people… a good man. He’d read Richard’s file the FBI had put together and knew the dude to be only twenty-eight years old. He’d given two years to the army and had been praised as a good soldier. A mixer who got on well with his fellow GIs. Maybe not the smartest apple in the tree but a hard worker nonetheless.

Then he’d worked for the post office for another four years and never missed a day. They were sorry to see him leave.

His family lived across the country and were low-income folks who had raised six kids. In their retirement, both his mom and dad lived on a small pension and fought the daily health battles many older people faced in their later years. Though he was loved, they were no support in his time of need.

So, here he was broken-down and discarded. And unlike many of his compatriots who’d turned to alcohol or drugs to lift them from the hell where they now found themselves, he’d turned to the online presence of weirdos happy to add him to their ranks.

Returning to the present, Tanner took a deep breath and walked into the room. Though Brunner’s expression appeared cold, even proud, Tanner saw the naked despair in the other man’s eyes.

“Jesus, Brunner, what the hell possessed you, man? To try and kill the Governor? And where did you get that fancy AK15?”

Brunner’s stoic demeanor disintegrated instantly. Maybe it was the tone in Tanner’s voice or possibly the familiar way he approached the man as if they were friends, whatever pushed the magic button, it worked.

He dropped his head into his hands and asked in a shaky voice, “Is everyone okay? I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No. But not because you didn’t try. Christ Almighty, man, you attacked an elected official with the intent to assassinate her. Do you understand the ramifications of this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Man, I was so hopped up with indignation for how she stole the election and how our democracy was under attack, I wasn’t thinking straight. When the bigshot online told me he’d supply the weapon if I’d just put an end to the problem, I got stoked… you know? They depended on me. It went to my head. Jesus, I’m sick about what I almost done. I’m a good person. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. In the army, they trained me to fight for my country, for freedom.”

“Look, you’ve gotten a shit deal from this big ole US of A. I can see that, especially after hearing your side. The DA’s willing to talk a deal. I think I can make this happen for you, get you into the Tucson VA center so they can finally operate on your back, get your head straight, set you up in rehabilitation. But you need to help me.”

Brunner’s face turned to Tanner. His eyes held hope and desperation. “I’ll do anything man. I can’t live like that anymore, sick in my head and my body. Most days, I can barely get out of bed. I’ve taken so much over-the-counter medication; I feel like a walking pill factory. I might as well give up. Only thing in my life that gives me any consolation are the friends I’ve made online.”

“Right. So where are they now? How’s that working out for you… being the stupid prick to take the fall? They keep their hands clean and let you go down for what they’re too weak to do themselves. It’s sick.”

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