Blaine slides one of the folders toward himself and opens it. “As you can see we started a file, one for each of the SEAL Team 3 members who had gone to Cuba. Through our investigation and with the help of the cell phone, we’ve uncovered a high powered cover-up.”
“High powered?” I ask.
Blaine chuckles and shows me a picture. “Do you know who this man is?” I nod, knowing full well that it’s Commander Ingram. “What about this man?” I shake my head, but Cara speaks up.
“That’s Lawson. I’ve been following him for about a year. He’s involved in child pedophilia, but I haven’t been able to nail him on it yet. When he showed up here I dug a little more, but everything was cold until Evan told me Ingram is Lawson’s father.”
“But what do they have to do with the Blackberry?” I ask as I become more confused.
“I know this is a sensitive matter and that your family has been through a lot. I wish we had this case years ago, but we understand why we didn’t. This is a folder of all the emails that we retrieved from the phone. I’m going to give you both a few minutes to look them over. We’ll be making an arrest in the morning. Carole has asked that you inform your brother of what’s going on so he knows about the parties involved.” Blaine pushes the manila folder to the middle of the table and stands. Before he leaves the room he says, “Hughes, you were right to suspect Lawson. He admits to kidnapping Abigail Chesley, the same child SEAL Team 3 went to Cuba for.”
I jump when the door slams, but Cara doesn’t as she digs right into the folder. I’m either in shock or completely stunned at what Blaine said before he left. My brother’s life was ruined because a Senator had a child kidnapped, but why?
“Why what?” Cara asks as she flips through the mound of emails.
“Huh?”
“You asked why?” Apparently I was speaking out loud and didn’t realize it.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I think it was just a reaction to what I heard.”
“Hmm… look at this. Lawson was having an affair with Vice President Charlotte, but why would he kidnap her daughter?” Her brows furrow as she reads over the emails. I take a stack and start looking through them. None of the names I see mean anything to me and the email addresses are just gibberish.
“Oh god,” Cara slumps back in her chair. “Blaine must’ve told Carole what he found and that’s why she wants you to tell Evan.” Cara hands me a piece of paper, it’s written correspondence that tells us exactly who’s involved. I read and then reread the names, words and actions of people we trusted and can hardly believe the words I’m seeing on the page. Names I recognize... of people I know…of people I trusted. My stomach turns at the thought of everything my brother has lost at the hands of a friend.
“I need to go see him.”
I HAVE NEVER SEEN someone so independent, especially with only one arm, as Ryley is. I thought I could help out by being here, but I was sorely mistaken. Everything that it takes me two hands to do, she can do with one and do it ten times better. All that she’s done is reaffirm what I’ve always said about her; she’s a warrior.
My warrior.
Being at Ryley’s… in our home that we bought together… is exactly where I want to be, except I want to be with her. I’m at the point where I don’t know if I’m moving a step forward with her or three steps back. This morning she met Nate for breakfast and I’m trying not to act jealous, but I am. He has a hold on her that I can’t break through. I know the honorable thing to do is to step away. To let them be together and build a life even if it’s not what I want or deserve. I would understand if I had broken up with her, but I didn’t. I never wanted to leave her in the first place. I just wanted to do my job and protect our country so Americans don’t have to lock their doors at night.
EJ and I have been spending some quality time together. We do everything from watching cartoons in the morning, playing outside, walking Deefur, helping Ryley make dinner, and then me tucking him in at night. Right now th
at’s about my favorite thing to do and it usually takes Ryley waking me to get me out of his bed. He’s the best of Ryley and me and I hate that I wasn’t here when he was born.
The house is quiet when I return from dropping EJ off at Carole and Jensen’s. I remember when I was his age that going to my grandparents’ house was the highlight of my life. No rules, tons of junk food and my grandfather had the best train collection. Just thinking about those trains brings a smile to my face and reminds me that I need to ask my mom about them. I know we had them after he passed away and maybe she kept them. I think setting them up with EJ would be good father and son bonding.
Bonding that could lead to him calling me “Daddy”. I still hold out hope.
I follow the sound of soft music coming from upstairs. If this were any other time I’d hope she was in the shower and I could join her but even if she is, at best I’ll sit on her bed and wait for her to come out. It’s hard to accept that the one person you’re in love with loves you, but can’t be with you. It’s even worse knowing it’s your own brother standing in the way.
I find her in her bedroom dressed in one of those skimpy tank tops and boxer shorts and surrounded by papers. She’s really not leaving much to the imagination and lord knows mine is flying at mock speed to the danger zone. I listen to the music, recognizing the songs I haven’t heard in a long time but know just the same. It’s our playlist. She’s playing songs I put on cd’s for times when we had to drown out certain noises, and music that I gave her to listen to before I left.
“What’s going on in here?” I ask, pointing to the box and papers all over the floor. She looks up at me with tears streaming down her face. I immediately go to her, dropping to my knees and cupping her face. My thumbs do their best job at wiping away the tears, but the sadness in her eyes is still there.
“Babe, talk to me,” I plead. When she shakes her head I sit down next to her and pick up one of the sheets of paper.
Hey Babe,
It sucks here. I’m going to tell you the truth because I know you’ll listen. But first I’m going to tell you how much I love you and how much I miss you. Okay, back to the suck. It’s gross, brown and dirty all the time. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if I never go to the beach again it’ll be too soon. Will you still love me if we become people who only go to the Country Club?
Love, Archer
I pick up one after another, reading the words that I wrote her from basic training, deployments and when I was just miles away from her while she was in college. Letter after letter of my life in detail, written just for her, are spread out on the bedroom floor. I remember everything that I wrote to her, like when my dad died and even though I came home and saw her, I still put it into words because she would listen and I needed to get it off my chest.
Dear Ryley,