Page 30

Story: Debt of My Soul

Chapter 30

Liam

3.5 Years Ago

T here’s no absolution for someone like me. Not after what I’ve witnessed—had to stand by and watch.

My truck halts to a stop on the road and I scramble to open the door fast enough before the bile in my throat turns to vomit. I upheave the entire day’s worth of food into the ditch on the side of the road. Leaves stick to my sleeves as I push myself up from my buckled position on the ground.

Dragging my sleeve across my mouth, I clamber back in my truck and continue on my path to the bed-and-breakfast. If there’s anyone who can help me it’s my grandfather.

His history as a state trooper was part of the reason I had decided on the police academy over a year ago. When I was a young boy, he often sat us all down recounting stories of his time and the opportunities he had to be a light for people, serve people. While Adam and my sister may have viewed them as only stories, I took it as a calling. I longed to serve as my grandfather did. Protect innocent life, those who can’t protect themselves.

I snort.

This is the exact opposite of that. The charred corpse rotting in the secluded clearing near a field assures me I’ve failed in my mission.

In search of guidance, I pull into my grandparents’ driveway littered with fallen leaves from the oak trees out front. I yank the door open and climb out, careful to slink close to the house and let myself in through the back. The last thing I need is for Darrin to know it was me who ratted them out.

I find my grandfather flipping through a seed catalog at the kitchen table, a hot mug of cider in his hand. I’d been so distracted with leaving my place in a rush, I forgot a coat, and I’m immediately aware of how chilled I am approaching my grandfather.

“Hey, Son. What are you doing here?” Noting my ashen face, he adds, “A-are you all right?”

Worry flickers in his eyes at my disheveled state. I manipulate a chair closer, swinging a leg over it and leaning my forearms on the back while facing him.

“I need your help.”

“You were at the police academy when you were called home to help with your brother?” Agent Wilson asks.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been taking his place working for Darrin to save his ass?”

“Yes.”

“Some brother you are, man.”

I grunt, worried that I made a mistake having my grandfather reach out to his former trooper buddies and get me in touch with the DEA. Agent Wilson comes across as the washed-up surfer dude who dropped out of college in favor of catching the next best wave. His long blond hair, almost white, is epically glaring, and I itch to push my sunglasses down over my face to shield myself.

Although what he says next makes me take every thought back. “I could just arrest you. Make you tell me where this compound is.”

“I don’t know where it is. Have only heard about it. Only his trusted circle and some warehouse workers reside there. I couldn’t tell you,” I say, my mouth dry with the lingering taste of bile on my tongue. “But I could find out.”

Agent Wilson’s eyebrows lift slightly. “We need someone in there. Darrin’s group is one we’ve been watching for a while. We’ve picked up a few of his dealers but more keep taking their place. He’s part of a much more extensive network across the nation. His shipments feed into others.”

“Why don’t you arrest him? Take down the operation in Ruin?” I’m growing frustrated the more I sit here. I came here to escape this life, not learn more about it.

“It’s not about cutting off an arm. It’s about killing the whole thing. Taking out Darrin would leave room for another kingpin to take his place. We need information. We need someone deep cover for the long haul.”

I hate the way he’s staring at me.

“With your law enforcement training and your”—he pauses, sizing me up—“your personal investment in ensuring your brother’s safety, I think you know what our position is going to be.”

That was my original plan. To follow in my grandfather’s footsteps. Becoming a cop was going to be the way I honored him. Instead, I’ve become the very person I vowed to take down.

“We’ll set up protocols and procedures for dead drops. This is dangerous work. They treat undercover cops and agents worse than any other nark in their own group. My partner was killed three years ago. They removed his head and sent it back to the agency in a box.”

I flinch at the pit forming in my stomach, and I want to wretch all over again. I’m going to die doing this.

“I tell you this to make sure it’s clear. Deep cover means you are on your own. There’s no Hail Mary. No cavalry called in. Nothing. Don’t have a wife and kids, do you?”

I shake my head.

“Good. Don’t get involved.”

This assignment, this mission, it could be my redemption. I just don’t want to lose my soul before I get there.