Chapter 9

“Alright, Mr. White, why don’t you talk me through it one more time,” said the detective as he sat in the chair he had vacated almost two hours prior when he left me alone in the interrogation room.

The annoyed tone in his voice didn’t seem to be just a consequence of him working at this hour. It was just past midnight by now and I, too, started to feel the exhaustion of the day take its toll on me. But it still sounded like he was unhappy with my story for some reason. The sole saving grace for this whole situation was that this interrogation room was, by far, the safest place for me to be at that moment if those guys were still trying to find out how I managed to make my escape.

“Why? I already told you, in great detail. Twice!” My own voice was clearly showing my exhaustion. “If you check the gas station’s surveillance, it’ll give you a better picture of the girl than I could by describing her!”

“Well, there lies the problem, Mr. White. We did check their surveillance feed. But all it shows is you walking out of frame with a person smaller than you. At least the way that person was dressed suggests that she was female. But we have no idea where you went with her, and it doesn’t show the alleged ‘big Russian guy’ you claim made you get in their car at gunpoint.”

Despite my weary mind, I slowly started to understand where this was going. And I didn’t like it at all.

“And ... the cabin?” I asked carefully.

“Yes. The fire department did find a huge amount of broken tiles in the rubble after they put the fire out, confirming that it must have been covered in them on the inside, just like you said. But, sadly, ... or luckily ... they couldn’t find any human remains. So, right now, we have you running from a potential forest fire, while basically nothing you told us about how you got there checks out.”

Yeah. I felt a sudden rush of relief flood through my body after he told me that they hadn’t found any signs of human remains in the rubble. It told me that the girl I thought they shot just might have survived, as I couldn’t see any reason for them to take the body with them if they had planned to light the place on fire. Still, this wasn’t entirely good news. They thought I had caused the fire, no question about that. But did they seriously think I’d make up a story about abduction and murder, of all things, as a cover-up for accidentally lighting a cabin on fire!?

“What’s with the license plate number of the Escalade I told you about?”

“Mr. White,” the detective sighed again. “There is no such license plate registered in any state, so either you memorized it wrong, or you made it up. That’s the question I’m tasked to answer tonight.” I refrained from pointing out the third possibility. That the guy simply had a fake license plate on his car.

“Well ... Check out the girl’s phone!” I said with slight annoyance in my voice, causing him to sigh.

“We have. Prepaid plan without registration. No contacts, photos, or videos on the phone. Nothing to go by.”

“What about ... tire marks ... or wildlife cameras?” I knew I sounded desperate by now, but the possibility of them being unable to find any proof of my story being true was ... unnerving. It didn’t exactly surprise me when the guy shook his head with a pitying look on his face.

“Even if there had been tire marks ... after firefighting operations turned the ground into mud, state park police drove around searching for clues, and all the gawkers ran around trying to get a good shot with their phones for their Instagram accounts, there’s nothing left to investigate. And let’s be honest here ... We won’t seize the memory cards in all the wildlife cameras, and pull the feeds of all the ATMs and home surveillance installations across the route you claim to have been taken, to then spend hours examining all that material. Of course, if there was a body, like you claimed, it would be a different story. But there isn’t one.” He had delivered this little speech with audible amusement in his voice. Not only did it tell me that he didn’t take me seriously, but it also told me that any more desperate pleas on my part would probably make me sound like even more of a lunatic. “Why don’t you start by explaining to me why anyone would even have an interest in abducting you in the first place?”

I probably should have handled this situation with a lot more caution, but the advanced evening, in combination with everything that had happened to me over the past few hours, took quite a toll on my ability to compose myself. So, when I answered him, I might have sounded a little more sarcastic than I would have liked under different circumstances.

“Well, you see, I’m currently working a case involving a U.S. senator, multiple hacked banking institutions in multiple countries, witnesses turning up dead under questionable circumstances, and, oh, did I mention that, just a few days ago, they broke into my apartment and tried to plant fucking child porn on my computer!?”

Luckily, and despite my fears, he did not look at me like I had completely lost my mind. The sneer had vanished from his face, and he seemed to take the whole situation a little more serious now. Sadly, though, telling him all of this was still a mistake. His expression told me that he didn’t take me more seriously because he believed what I just said about investigating a conspiracy of that scale. I think he just heard me say ‘child porn on my computer’ and was now contemplating whether or not I feared they would search my apartment and wanted to proactively give an excuse for what they might find.

He had just taken a deep breath as he unfolded his arms when we heard a knock on the door and he got up to leave the room. Before he had a chance to reach the door, though, it opened by itself, and I saw Breston and Bill step through it. For a moment, all exhaustion left my body and was replaced by a curious mixture of relief and shame. Relief, because this proved once more how Bill continuously had my back. Shame, because I saw the look in Bill’s eyes as he looked at me in clear disappointment.

“Who are you?” the detective asked in an alarmed and yet confused tone.

“His legal team,” Breston replied with amusement before the two of them sat down to either side of me.

Suddenly, I felt the back of my head being slapped, strong enough to cause my head to fly forward a little, and, when I turned towards Bill, he returned my look with nothing but anger in his eyes.

“Do I need to fucking explain why I’m pissed, or do you think you could figure it out by yourself?” Bill asked in a growl.

Now the relief I felt earlier was gone, and only the shame was left. To my surprise, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t embarrassed about getting caught by those people. I wasn’t even embarrassed about my realization of my shortcomings from earlier that day, which also led to me being caught. I was embarrassed about upsetting the man! And, to make this even worse, he didn’t sound threatening in any way. It was more like his disappointment in me had reached previously unthinkable heights.

“I know. I screwed up,” I proclaimed with slumped shoulders. “I realized it even before this whole thing went sideways.”

“No shit! Not only did you disregard EVERYTHING I painstakingly drilled into you about proper procedure and self-protection, but you risked the entire case! If you hadn’t managed to get away, you’d be dead now! And what then!? You think the others wouldn’t be pissed at you when I had to tell them how you got yourself killed!? And what do you think would happen to your mother if you left her alone now!? Did you even consider what the senator would do after getting you out of his way!?”

While I kept shrinking into my seat as Bill continuously dressed me down, the detective who had been questioning me until now maintained a stern look as if to join in the scolding I was receiving. Every once in a while, though, I could see him throw a side glance at Bill that looked as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether he could actually believe what he was hearing.

“What the hell were you even thinking pulling that stunt with the plant?” Bill continued, now in a disbelieving tone.

After everything that had happened, it took me a while to understand what he was talking about.

“The ... you mean the camera I planted in the hallway of that consulting firm?” I asked.

“Yes, I do!” And he was back to being angry. “If they were the ones who killed Carver, they were also the ones who broke into your apartment and tried to plant that kiddie porn on your computer. They know you! They know your face! And your great idea is to walk right into their base!? Are you completely insane!? What in the world came ov...”

“Just a moment!” the detective called out loudly to make himself heard over Bill’s ever-increasing volume, finally injecting himself into the conversation. “Are you seriously claiming that whole conspiracy story he gave us is true?”

Now Bill and Breston blinked at the guy like he was a total idiot.

“Yes, we are,” Breston said slowly. “If you cared to call the DA’s office and mention Mr. White’s name, which I would have thought you had done by now, given how long he has been in here, they will surely confirm it as well. So will the FBI, if the DA’s office isn’t enough for you. If not in detail, they will at least tell you that he is a rather important accessory to an ongoing high-profile investigation.”

Now the detective looked from one face to the other in skepticism, seemingly hoping for someone to give away how this was just a joke. I didn’t feel the need to help him out, so I addressed Bill’s question instead.

“Well ... I just thought...” I started, but, honestly, I couldn’t rightly give an answer to this. I was just so elated about the rapid progress our investigation had made and was caught up in that false sense of superiority after we caught them red-handed, that I simply never considered how this could go wrong. That is until it did go wrong. Bill, however, quickly picked up on my inability to explain my actions.

“You didn’t think. That’s the problem!” he proclaimed angrily, though his voice was now calming down. “Do you even realize that you never told any of us about visiting that consulting firm?”

“What?” My head jumped up to look at Bill in a confused manner. He held my gaze while nodding.

“Yeah, Dipshit! As far as we knew, you wanted to tail the senator to find evidence for his cheating, so you could prove he lied in court and filed the papers fraudulently. But you never told us about stopping at that damn consulting firm first! If you hadn’t told us about the car registration, we wouldn’t even know about that consulting firm at all!” He took a deep breath before letting it out as a drawn-out sigh and continuing. “But ... at least one good thing came from this crap.”

I looked at him curiously as I had thought he would comment on the video recording of Dick at the restaurant I uploaded to the server. Instead, he reached down for his bag, pulled out his laptop, and placed it on the table. Quickly, the detective walked around the table and positioned himself behind us so he could see what was shown.

Instead of the video of Dick and his mistress at the restaurant, what I now saw on the laptop screen was a video showing the entrance of the building where the consulting firm had its offices. And, after a few seconds, it even showed me walking into that entrance while carrying the big-ass Benjamin’s plant.

“How...?” I asked perplexed.

“We stopped at your car before coming here and copied your dash cam’s SD card,” he explained before we heard the detective starting to protest, causing Bill to turn around and address him directly. “Sorry, detective, but after they broke into his apartment, we had one of the responding HPD officers try to destroy the hard drives containing the surveillance feeds. Don’t take it as an accusation, but we can’t be careful enough.”

The detective’s eyebrows arched in a mixture of surprise and disbelief as he just stared at Bill, before turning his gaze towards Breston and seeing him nod in confirmation.

“There we go,” Bill said in a half whisper as if to not overshadow the video’s sound, and we all focused on the laptop screen again. Apparently, about two minutes after I entered the building, which was around the time I was trying to convince the lady at the front desk to let me enter the elevator, someone had exited the building without me noticing. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, wore an expensive-looking suit, and held a phone to his ear. He was in the middle of a conversation when he came close enough to my car for the dash cam to pick up his voice.

“Yes, Dad ... I’m afraid the constant setbacks are leading Fairfield to take yet another drastic approach. He’s calling some Russian interrogation specialist to take care of the main target’s son ... Yes ... I’m afraid so. Especially after the disaster with Carver ... Are you sure we can pin it on him completely? I have no desire to go to jail for murder, just because you put someone with a short fuse in charge ... Yes, of course I have!”

That was as much as we could hear before the guy walked out of hearing range. But this was certainly enough!

“We ... we have him admitting to being involved in Carver’s murder!” I said, still half-stunned by how lucky I was.

“I wouldn’t call it a confession,” Breston threw in before looking at the detective and continuing in an amused tone. “But it’s certainly enough to warrant a warrant, wouldn’t you say so, detective?”

The detective looked indecisive for a moment before gathering his thoughts.

“That’s not my decision,” he finally said. “I admit, it sounds like this man is planning to frame someone for a murder he committed, or as if he needed to frame someone for murder and is worried about it backfiring in a different way. I will have to bring this to the chief and discuss how to proceed.”

“I suggest you bring it to your chief and he calls the DA’s office instead,” Breston said in a remarkably cold tone as Bill handed the SD card to the detective. “I already told you that even the FBI is involved in this, and I can’t imagine the DA’s office would be happy about you messing with their investigation either. I also suggest you and your colleagues will handle my client’s account about today’s events with less doubt, and instead start simply investigating what he reported. Speaking of ... is my client still needed here, or can we leave?”

“We have his statement in writing and his particulars have been recorded,” the detective nodded reluctantly. “I guess you already know the procedure, but ... please make sure not to leave the state, at least.”

“Of course,” I confirmed while getting out of my chair.

We wordlessly walked out of the police station until we came to a halt in front of one of our armored SUVs that Bill must have used for the drive here.

“Well, that worked a lot better than I feared,” Breston said in an exhausted voice, and I could see how he had practically deflated after we passed through the door. “Now, Paul, your boss shared the video you sent him. I must say, you deliver remarkable results.”

Suddenly, I heard Bill release a grumpy “Hmpf!” as he simply walked past us. He moved so fast that I had no chance to look at his face before his head vanished into the car. However, instead of starting the engine and driving off, he just sat in it, seemingly waiting for me.

“Yeah ... well ... I had a damn good teacher,” I replied in a penitent tone that caused Breston to chuckle. “So, you say it’s gonna be usable?”

“Oh, you bet your ass it is! With that video, your mother is going to be a very wealthy woman very soon!” he smiled brightly before noticing the change in my expression, which caused him to look at me confused. “Something wrong with that?”

“No, not necessarily,” I lied. “It’s just ... I still stand by what I said at our first meeting. I really don’t give a damn about his money. But ... an amount like that will come with a whole new stack of problems.”

Breston nodded sagely at that. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. After everything that happened so far, just consider it compensation. Now, as you know, I don’t do divorce law. I only represent your mother in the criminal case against her. I would suggest you put everything you found into a report and find yourself a proper divorce lawyer. I can give you a few names but can’t recommend anyone.”

“That’s gonna be okay. I have a whole stack of business cards in my office. About half the cases I work on are about finding proof of cheating spouses, and I had to work quite closely with the clients’ lawyers. So ... I’ll talk with Mom about it, but I think, since she didn’t even have the chance to look for one the last time, we’ll just call the one that gave me the best feeling when working together.”

“Just a word of advice: Insist on the retainer fee. I know, it’ll be quite a hefty upfront sum, but the alternative would be them taking a percentage of the settlement. I imagine, as soon as they learn about who they’re going up against, they will want that percentage!” he chuckled. “And, considering how you effectively did all the work for them already, and all they now need to do is take over communication with Senator Anderson’s lawyers, possibly while he’s in jail for his involvement in Mr. Carver’s death, that retainer fee shouldn’t be too high. Giving away ten percent of a nine-digit sum would be a little excessive under these circumstances.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said while extending my hand to him. “And, uh ... thank you for coming so fast.”

He smiled at me as he shook my hand and then walked off, presumably to his own car, leaving me by myself. Suddenly, I realized how I really didn’t want to get into a car with Bill at that moment, as he surely wasn’t done with me yet, but I also realized that this was a lecture I wouldn’t be able to avoid. So, I took a deep breath, sighed, and opened the passenger door to take my seat.

Contrary to my expectations, Bill started the car and drove off without saying a word. He hadn’t even looked at me when I sat next to him. Somehow, this was even worse than if he had launched into another tirade. Every few minutes, I heard him scoff before he shook his head as if he was debating with himself whether it was even worth the effort to try and set me straight. I think, the last time I felt anything similar to the emotions dominating my mind at that moment, was when my dad was angry with me when I was seven years old and had ... borrowed ... a friend’s skateboard.

Several times, I took a deep breath in preparation for giving him some kind of explanation and apologizing for my blunder. But he was absolutely spot-on with his earlier accusations. I had endangered the whole case with my need to do this by myself and endangered not only my own life but indirectly my mother’s as well. So, utterly unable to come up with anything worth saying, I stayed silent for the entire ride until we reached the gas station where I had parked my car.

After we arrived, Bill parked next to my car, turned off the engine, and then just looked at the steering wheel in front of him for a long moment.

“I know how you feel, Paul. Trust me, I actually, really do know exactly how you feel. I’m sure everyone in the firm noticed all the scars I carry, considering we share a locker room after our training sessions. Those aren’t exactly battle scars,” he finally said before letting out a sigh.

It was true, Bill had an extraordinary amount of scarring on his body. And he had all of them. The thick, bulging ones that looked like his skin had rolled in on itself, the little dots that looked like something was stuck just under his skin, and the white indented ones that looked like someone carved a line into his skin. He also had a gap in his right eyebrow that looked like a cut that was never properly tended to, and a rather ugly scar in his upper lip. But because his scars were mostly concentrated on his back and the backside of his upper thighs, my theory had always been that he fell backwards through a window and then landed on the shards.

The man was anything but forthcoming when it came to his private life, let alone his past. But he also wasn’t exhibiting any of the usual signs you would expect from torture victims. He always made fun of those scars and our wild speculations regarding their origin. So, in the end, we all just joked that he had spent his youth as a member of some S&M biker gang or something. But now, as he told me he knew “exactly” how I felt when it came to my stepfather ... this was a rather disturbing revelation.

“I found people willing to help me through this,” he continued, still refusing to look at me, keeping his eyes focused on the tree in front of the car. “When I met you four years ago in that gym and told you to get lost after you asked to join our training, there was ... something in your eyes. Something in the way you carried yourself. It was familiar. So, I looked you up. Didn’t take long to find out why you ran from that house. When I was ... young ... I found out that there’s more than revenge in life. That there are people I can trust. And that there are people who do care about me. Though, it took me a long time to believe them. I ... hoped I could be that person to you and help that process along.”

What followed was a minute of silence as I processed his words before I finally decided on how to reply.

“You helped me more than I could ever have hoped for, Bill. It’s just ... when I saw him...”

“Let me guess. You wanted to murder him,” he said lightheartedly. “Preferably in the most brutal way possible.”

“Yes,” I admitted in a rueful voice. “I can’t explain it. I was so damn sure I was over all this shit. But when I saw him, in the flesh, in my reach, and ... All I could think about was...”

“Hm.” He slowly nodded. “I can tell you that this won’t go away on its own, Paul. No matter how much time you spend away from him, no matter how much you work on buffing up and training in defensive martial arts techniques to ensure that you’ll never let it happen again. The memory of being so utterly helpless and powerless will forever be ingrained in your mind. You can’t defend yourself against that, no matter how much you train.”

I didn’t like the way he phrased that, nonchalantly pointing out how I was too weak to stand up to the guy, but I knew he didn’t say this to mock me. After what he just revealed about his past, chances are, he didn’t comment on me feeling utterly powerless and helpless. He remembered feeling that way himself. And he was right. That was the core issue I had to deal with.

“So ... what the hell am I supposed to do then?”

“You need to deal with the trauma itself, so it stops haunting you,” she replied in an exhausted tone. “Either by eliminating the cause, or by talking with someone who knows how to deal with this crap in a civilized manner.”

“Okay. So, either I kill the guy or find a therapist,” I nodded with pursed lips as I went over my options. “I honestly can’t say which I’d prefer.”

This made him chuckle.

“Yeah, I bet. But, if I can give you some word of advice...?” He saw me eagerly nod. “It’s not just you who needs this. Your mother is probably suffering just as much as you are. If not more. And I kind of doubt killing the guy is a viable option for the woman.”

Yeah, that was the other problem I had to deal with. After what Breston told me about Mom soon being a very wealthy woman, I kinda realized I’d need to find a therapist either way. Mom getting that kind of money would be a real problem for me, and it would be a permanent reason for doubt. There would be no way for us to truly fix our relationship if I didn’t address it. Ever.

I let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll take care of it,” I nodded. “Thank you for showing up, Bill. I owe you. Again.”

“Yes, you do,” he grinned. “But, right now, the first thing you owe me is a proper case report.”

“Mhm. Breston asked for one too, so he can start court proceedings.”

“Then get to it. There’s shit we need to take care of that’s more important than your mother’s divorce.”

“Like what?” I asked in audible confusion.

“Like moving your stupid ass out of that apartment,” he started before continuing in a louder voice to drown out my protest. “That little stunt you pulled today sure as hell showed them that you need to be dealt with. And I’m not even talking about you trying to plant a camera in their hallway. They tried to mislead you, then they broke into your apartment trying to discredit you, and now they tried to abduct and probably kill you. All of that failed. What do you think will happen next!?”

Now I let out an annoyed groan. He was right, of course, but I still didn’t like it. Especially since that is a conclusion I should have reached by myself.

“Off to the shelter it is, I guess.”

“You’re damn right about that. Luckily, you already packed all of your essentials when you moved into Tim’s abode, and your mother barely has anything to her name. So, I’ll send the crew to the safehouse and have it stocked. Go home, get some proper sleep, and then get on the report. By the time you’re done with that, the shelter should be ready for you two.”

I heard in his tone that the conversation was over, and I had been dismissed. So, I nodded, got out of the car, and watched him drive off as soon as I closed the passenger door. I got into my own car and made the drive back to Houston while continuing the mental discussions I had started on my drive to Austin.

During my drive west, I honestly couldn’t decide how much Mom even meant to me by now. I couldn’t decide whether I actually cared about her or if I just enjoyed fucking her. And the moment Breston mentioned her future wealth, my one and only thought was that this could only end badly. I couldn’t even imagine what kind of sleazy, fucked-up con man would come knocking on her door once the court overturned the divorce decree and awarded her half of the hundreds of millions of dollars Dick was worth. And Mom was desperate to have someone take possession of her. If one of those guys succeeded...

I shook my head. Did the fact that I worried so much about my mother mean that I cared about her in an appropriate manner? Or was it just a dark corner of my mind, silently knowing that I could easily take those hundreds of millions of dollars from her, and all I had to do for it was fuck her some more?

No. Just a few days ago, I vowed to protect the woman. This time, I could protect her! And, if I was being honest with myself, this could also serve as confirmation of her claims. She had assured me, multiple times, that all she wanted now was to be my mom again. To actually care for me the way a mother was supposed to care for her child and make me happy in any way possible, since she wasn’t able to do that under Dick’s watch.

I had to reluctantly admit, even though I had dealt with my issues to the point where I could acknowledge her feeble attempts to stop Dick from hurting us, ... I chose to believe her explanation of why she let it happen, as well as her assurances about how she wants our relationship to develop from now on. I couldn’t be sure of anything she told me. Too much time has passed for me to really know the woman anymore, especially since I learned something new about Dick’s treatment of her every day. Who knows how deeply ingrained his conditioning really was? Who knows what’s really going on in her head?

What if, once our tormentor is behind bars and she is free of his looming presence, she would realize that she no longer needs protection and ditch me again? What if, once she got a hold of all that money, she would change her mind about wanting to “make me happy any way she can”, and instead simply takes off to finally pursue her own happiness? I wouldn’t even be able to blame her for that, if I was honest with myself, given how much longer than me she suffered under the asshole. Or, worst case scenario, what if that claim was just a ruse from the very start, and she just did all of those things with me in an attempt to ensure I would keep her around until she could stand on her own feet again?

Yes, I fully realized that me still being unable to let go of my doubts, despite being shown how deep her submissiveness and need went, made it damn clear how damaged my relationship with my mother truly was. But, sadly, ... that didn’t help me trust her. I had spent years suffering in her care, before spending years telling myself how she was responsible for the hardships that came after I escaped from Dick.

If her story of taking that punishment after helping me make that escape was true, however, it was even more depressing that I was still unable to trust her. But what the hell was I supposed to do about it? It wasn’t like I could just decide to take the plunge and see what happens. If she told the truth and genuinely wanted to be with me, opening up to her and indulging her needs would surely help repair our relationship. But if I told myself those things, just for her to then up and leave as soon as she no longer needed my help, ... I would be devastated.