Page 10 of The Criminal

Her dog tracked my movement. His golden-brown gaze was unnerving.

“I’m not lying. I kept my promise.” She looked through me, her eyes unseeing as she answered. The faraway look on her face reminded me of Ray’s funeral. Lee’s stare had focused on the middle distance past the cemetery’s edge. Her mother was leaning on her and crying. I remembered fixating on her chipped black nail polish as she patted her mother’s quivering shoulders.

I was numb that day. The Navy had sent me home with Ray’s body and a story for his family about a training accident. It felt like the whole town came to the graveside service for the former high school football star who died serving his country. I told and retold the official version of Ray’s death so many times that day that a part of me accepted it as truth. Ray Vance died in a tragic training accident—an unfair ending to a promising life.

The truth of Ray’s death was another military secret I carried.

After the funeral and wake, Mrs. Vance took to her bed with a headache and a glass of whiskey. Lee and I cleaned up and packed away all the food people had brought while listening to a Steve Miller CD on repeat—Ray’s favorite band. The walls of the trailer felt claustrophobic. I offered to drive us in my rental car to grab a drink. She’d had to remind me she was only nineteen.

At twenty-seven, I’d felt ancient.It’s not the age. It’s the mileage.

Instead of a bar, we sat on a picnic table in a nearby park, watching the sun set over a rusty swing set. We each sipped a mason jar full of sweet tea. The syrupy sweetness of the tea did nothing to wipe away the pain of the day. I buried my best friend and lied to his family and a whole town about the circumstances. I craved a bottle of Jack Daniels.

I’d put an arm over Lee’s narrow shoulders, let her lean into my chest and cry. My shit could be dealt with later.

A few fireflies dotted the sad little park when she finally pulled herself away and thanked me for coming and for being there for her mother. Even at nineteen, Lee didn’t want help from me.

Looking at her straight spine and defiant expression, I knew then she had to take a different path or I’d be at her funeral next. And so I extracted a promise from her using the memory of her dead brother to seal the deal between us.

“No more stealing. It’s not what Ray hoped for you,” I’d said.

She froze, her red-rimmed eyes wide. “He told you?”

“He was worried. You’re too old for that shit now. You’ll go to jail and your mom will have no one.”

She crossed her arms and hunched into the oversized black sweater she wore. Her face was neutral while she considered my words before she agreed. “For you and Ray, I’ll stop.”

The rest of that night was lost to me. I left her at the trailer with her mom and bought the bottle of Jack I’d longed for and drank it dry. I passed out on top of the blanket in my cheap hotel room. My hangover lingered all the way back to base.

“I’m not lying.” Her sharp tone cut through my somber memories.

“Explain the burner cell phone?” I looked pointedly at the latest model smartphone on her desk. It was nothing like the hunk of junk she had at the gala. “And your perfectly timed exit. You left moments before the shooting started.”

“I left because you pissed me off. I didn’t set up the heist. And I’m not involved…at this point.” Her tone was all business.

“What doesat this pointmean?“ I made stupid air quotes as I said the phrase.

“I declined to move the items.” She gritted out her answer through tight lips. “The goods were too unique, too hot even for me to handle. And now that the robbery has made the news, I have even less of a reason to risk it.” She pushed theMiami Heraldacross the desk. The gala robbery was splashed across the front page.

“Who invited you to, ah, check out the merchandise?”

“It’s not that simple. I work through channels. I’m not directly connected with whoever pulled the heist. There is a web of connections.” She spoke carefully.

I wasn’t sure if she was weighing every word because she thought I was stupid or because she was worried about saying the wrong thing and ending up in trouble. The ache in my chest returned as I envisioned her as a bug caught in a web of criminals—the tasty morsel the spider would devour at its leisure.

“Who sits in the center of the web?” The mastermind needed to be taken out. When the SEALs went after a terrorist network, it was the head that had to be cut off. The other players were only pawns.

She shook her head as a regretful smile twisted her mouth.

“I think we’re done.” She pointed at the door.

“Give me a name. I can help.”

Her bitter bark of laughter ended with a sound more like a sob.

The desperate sound ripped into me. My gut instinct was to haul her out of the chair and hold her to my chest. A million promises to help were bubbling up.

I angled toward her, ready to sweep her up and hold her until she told me everything.

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