Page 95 of Fish in a Barrel

Brentwood rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing can help,” he whispered. But then he stepped back and gestured them in.

Ellery remembered when Brentwood had told them about his wife and how she’d sewn his costume—how proud he’d been. The study showed touches of that talent when the rest of the house was obviously professionally decorated. Curtains in a print Ellery would put money had never been in a catalogue, for one. A homemade fleece throw and a beautiful, intricate quilt in a wedding-ring pattern on the small couch for another. Both blankets were draped over a sleeping woman, whose shoulders rose and fell every so often in a trembling motion, as though she’d only now fallen asleep, sobbing.

A part of him wondered what had happened there, but a part of him thought he might already know.

That damning plaque of the young man whose promise had not been fulfilled would haunt him.

“Would you like to speak somewhere else?” Jackson asked softly. “So she can sleep?”

He shook his head. “I… she took a sedative. Sometimes it makes her sleepwalk. I don’t want to leave her alone.”

Joey spoke up, and Ellery startled because he’d forgotten the man had followed them in.

“I’ll sit with her, Judge. It’s no worries. I’ve got my assistant lined up to take my next house.” He gave a game smile, one that probably put the judge at ease as someone who didn’t know anything but was simply being kind, when the truth was none of Jackson’s friends were stupid, ever. “Rivers here shows up, and I know shit’s bound to get complicated, you know?”

Brentwood gave a weak smile, and they left Joey to sprawl on the guest chair, playing a game on his phone.

Brentwood walked them back down the hall to a small sitting room off the foyer. It looked like it had started as a place to take off boots and jackets and had grown to a meeting place, with a coffee table and a couple of chairs, and he gestured for them to sit down.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked on automatic, and they both shook their heads no. Ellery wondered what he would have done if Jackson had asked for water or a soda. Would he have gone to fetch it, his eyes as vacant as he moved about the kitchen as they were now?

“What can I do for you?” he asked, sounding exhausted, as though the two of them showing up on his doorstep was the least surprising thing in his life.

“You know who the sniper is,” Jackson said softly, “and we need a name.”

Brentwood’s face crumpled, his carefully even expression shattered by Jackson’s brutal honesty.

“You can’t kill him,” he begged. “You… you can’t kill him. I know… I-I… it’s basest hypocrisy. Do you think I don’t know that? But he’s all I have left of my son….”

Jackson was sitting closest. He was the one who put his hand on Brentwood’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” he said softly. “We know part of it. We know that Cartman put pressure on Boehner to clean up the streets, so Boehner came up with the scheme to bus the homeless population to the middle of nowhere. No amenities, no legal help, no communication. You didn’t know about this when you were trying the case. We know that was a surprise to you Friday. How am I doing so far?”

“Frighteningly well,” Judge Brentwood said shakily.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Jackson met Ellery’s eyes, and Ellery nodded. Jackson had broken through the judge’s reserves; it was time for Ellery to pick up the thread.

“We’re pretty sure,” he said slowly, “you were being pressured on another front. You were supposed to put Ezekiel Halliday back in prison, regardless of the prosecution’s case, am I right?”

Brentwood nodded, looking ill. “My whole life,” he whispered, “I prided myself on being fair. Hard-line? Sure. But fair. I listened to both sides. Wasn’t that my job? But you’re correct. Cartman was putting pressure on me the whole time. He… he never said anything outright, mind you. Just told me he could make things very difficult for my family.” He shuddered. “My… my wife, she’s been through so much. You… she couldn’t go through any more. She’s…. I took all the guns to a storage locker. I hid all the medications, including Tylenol. I-I make sure there’s always a housekeeper or Joey or our daughter here with her. I don’t want to leave her alone. And Cartman knew that. But… but Friday I just couldn’t. Part of it was you,” he said, looking frankly at Jackson. “You were in pain, but you were there. You showed up to do the right thing.” He met Ellery’s eyes. “And part of it was you. What you were willing to risk to do the right thing. Part of it was Halliday himself and all of the people who showed up to speak for him, including Cody Gabriel, who risked everything to come out of the cold.” He let out a little sob. “But what mattered most was that I just, I couldn’t do it. I just, I couldn’t. I called Cartman and told him to deal with you or I’d go to the press, and you know what happened that day.”

“What happened that night?” Ellery prodded.

“Well, that night is when he called Boehner in to make sure that next time I’d heel.”

Brentwood’s shudder was so deep, so visceral, it knotted Ellery’s stomach.

“What did Boehner have on you?” he asked, steeling himself for the answer.

But Brentwood’s eyes were anything but clinical. “My son,” he said hoarsely. “He… he was such a good kid. So sweet. And we were so excited when he started dating Lance Corporal Adler. Myron was… he was steady and kind, and you worry so much about your children. The world can be so cruel to queer folks. You worry a little more. You want kindness in their lives, and Myron…. God. He was so kind.”

“What happened?” Jackson urged.

Ellery’s stomach was so tight he couldn’t breathe. Jackson had to feel it: the urgency, the need to haul ass out of the house and find a killer. But Ellery forced his chest in and out and made himself wait. Brentwoodwasa decent man, and his story was so painful.

“Nathan got into a car accident,” Brentwood rasped. “About three years ago. He suffered nerve damage, and God—he was in so much pain. And the hospital kept prescribing morphine, and by the time we realized he was an addict, it was… he was already buying fixes on the street.” Brentwood’s voice broke. “By the time Myron’s deployment was over, Nathan had OD’d in his bedroom in our home. Elaine was the one to find him, and… and we were the only family Myron had. His own parents had kicked him out, and we were his birthdays and his Christmases, and we kept trying to be there for him. He and our daughter, Lindsey, were the only people holding Elaine to the planet, you understand?”

“Yes,” Jackson said. He took the man’s hand, and Ellerydidhold his breath until Brentwood relaxed and squeezed it.