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27

THE PROTECTOR

N oah dropped Molly at the airport, even though she wanted to stay for the funeral. He said that he had no idea when it would be, and he would prefer to be alone. I was standing next to them when they had this conversation. If I was sensitive then I would have been offended, but I’m no Ruslan and I’m certainly no Molly, so Noah was right, we’ve been living in the house as two roommates that don’t necessarily get along. I haven’t been sleeping in Ruslan’s room. Luckily, the house has three-bedrooms, so I’ve been staying in the guest room. The same room, I intend to put Penelope.

I can’t believe that I used my fake badge , and a semi conscious Penelope to sign her release from the asylum. I don’t do rescues, I only do cases to get results and promotions.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Every time I went to visit Penelope, she was sedated, or just looking out of the window and her therapist, Dr. Julia said that it was normal for Penelope to react like that. I knew from that moment, I didn’t trust Dr. Julia.

"Molly got on her flight safely?" I ask as Noah comes through the door. I barely make small talk with colleagues, yet here I am with Noah, wondering what he and Ruslan would talk about. Every time I come into this house, all I see is photos of the pair of them, and now Ruslan’s dead. I thought that Noah would want to take them down, but it is the complete opposite effect.

I catch him at times just standing and staring at the photos.

He’s probably remembering the times they had together, and I’m so damn tempted to ask him. Where they took the photo, the one with Noah having a glove in his hand?

I’m pretty sure Noah was with his foster parents back then, once Ruslan rescued him from his mom, I’d thought Ruslan had let Noah go. It was only when I pretended to be Ruslan one time, when he confessed that he had a partner, and the partner was Noah.

It was only when I pretended to be Ruslan, I learned that their relationship was a lot deeper than Noah being a hacker and working alongside Ruslan. I learned about Ruslan taking Noah to games when he was young, their bowling challenges they’d had over the years and their love of playing Playstation together. Ruslan had been visiting him on a regular basis, checking up on him, and his foster parents didn’t mind Ruslan popping in and checking up on Noah especially because he filled their pockets heavily when he did.

Ruslan took risks for others, unlike me, he had a heart. One I’m clearly missing. I don’t remember ever solving a case, and trying to find out how the victims were after I solved it.

“I fucking knew the asylum was corrupt!” He says with excitement as I fill him in with why I signed Penelope out of there.

“What is it?” I stand up as Noah signals for us to go to a wall.

He pushes a picture, which leads to what looks like a basement. Clever, no one would suspect that there’s a secret staircase nor the photo of Hunter, smiling and holding a beer, when they had a barbecue in the backyard would lead to it.

He looks happy, his eyes are wide and he’s wearing an apron, “I’m not old. I’m a classic.”

I smirk when I first read what it says on the apron, but then my smirk turns to jealousy at the idea of the apron being bought on his birthday. I haven’t had a present from anyone since Mom died, nor received one from my brother, but here he is celebrating his birthday.

I need to focus on what Noah’s trying to tell me. I see cameras, loads of them at different angles at the asylum.

“When did you get these installed?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t. The nurse that you tossed and his family were being held hostage. Well, I managed to get him to do it.”

“What the fuck?” I shout, not worrying about who can hear me, because I bet it’s soundproof.

“Do you know how hard it is on minimum wage to get any type of medical treatment?”

His question is met with a blank face, and I shrug due to lack of interest and not knowing the answer to the question.

“It’s fucking hard. He has a daughter who has cancer, he needs the money, that's why he agreed to poison Penelope.”

Damn! I’m trying to figure out how long it has been since I brought Penelope here and Molly left for the airport, how did Noah manage to do all this within twenty-four hours. I suppose time waits for no one.

The nurse thought that it was alright for Penelope to die and his daughter to live. I don’t know what the going rate is for medical treatment for cancer patients, but I’m pretty sure that ten thousand wouldn’t be enough to save his daughter.

“So you offered him money?”

I ask, out of curiosity, even though I know the answer to my own question.

“No. I said that I will pay for her treatment. Whatever the bill is, he should send it my way. Isn’t that what we do? Get rid of predators and help those that need our help.”

For a second I can tell that Noah thinks he’s talking to Ruslan. He stares at me, and is met with a blank expression, one that reminds him that I’m not Ruslan.

“Nevermind. I’m the one paying for it.”

I shrug, because this isn’t my concern, nor my worry at the moment. I didn’t think about where the money will come from.

“I never understood how you guys did the finances here. I know that you took money out of the accounts, enough for it not to look like a robbery, but then how do you survive now you’re just killing websites?” I say out of curiosity, because I didn’t think they had enough money to finance all this, but then maybe I’m wrong.

He shifts to the side of the room, where there’s a small fridge, and holds up a beer—his gesture a way of asking if I want one.

A beer.

I think of Ruslan. He always said beer was for jocks, yet he would sit here and no doubt have one with Noah.

I hesitate but nod, indicating that I want one. It’s only just getting to twelve, so it’s not yet afternoon, but between my lack of eating ever since I got here and my desire to jog, I decide there’s nothing wrong with letting myself go for once.

“Well, I’ve threatened some of the sites, by cutting their servers for a ransom. Once they pay, I put the funds in an offshore account, and then I still take down their site anyway.”

I chuckle! Fucking predators, they’ll do anything to get what they want.

“Why don’t they find some other way to entertain themselves?” I ask as I shake my head, knowing that as soon as Noah takes down one site, guaranteed they’ll be another one to replace it.

“Most of them are owned by the same people. The same hackers are hired to build them. I’ve worked with some of them in the past, so I know how their minds work.”

I shrug, thinking that is a positive for Noah, but then by the same token, isn’t it vice-versa too.

“They probably feel that way about you.”

“If they knew it was me, then sure. But they don’t. I’m good at my job. Don’t worry.”

I wasn’t, never have been. It’s as if Noah really believes that I don’t think much of him. As if I’m judging and worried about his every move.

“Besides Hunter was pretty good with finances. So, he invested some of the money in real estate, stocks and even car washes. The best vessel for money laundering.”

“Ruslan?” I question, wondering if he’s talking about the same brother.

“Yeah. He joined the local college and did some investment course. Of course he used my name to do it. But he learned a lot and we make some really good money from it. I mean we made some…”

I rub my brows as I put the beer down, because I need to slow down on not eating and drinking.

Fuck!

“Ruslan. Finances. Studying. I can’t believe it.”

Noah nods his head. “Yeah. He could do anything once he put his mind to it.”

I have no doubt about it. It’s almost as if Ruslan did some self-development after the NY case. He didn’t just spend his time following Penelope.

I remember one time he let it slip that he called her, his butterfly.

I take a deep breath to relieve myself, but it doesn’t do anything. I need sex or rather a fuck . I can’t remember the last time I called one of the ladies in my list, to relieve me. This is why I feel frustrated, because there’s nothing more satisfying than the taste of a sweet pussy. Then again, I’m all the way out in Ohio, and I’m not like Ruslan, so I’m not joining no fucking app to get the same effect.

I’ll find a way, I always do.

I try to dismiss the idea that Penelope is making me think about sex, not just any ordinary sex. But the whole works, oral, BDSM, 69 and just going through every damn position in the Kama Sutra.

Were these the thoughts Ruslan had about her?

Maybe she is a witch, and she has put some kind of curse on us all and this is why we just run after her, like crazy people.

“She’s a witch!” I blurt out. As Noah is shows me what’s on his screens, but the only thing I keep seeing is Penelope’s eyes.

Noah raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “No. They're selling organs on the black market."

I glance over at him, my gut twisting. So this conversation has nothing to do with Penelope. Of course, it didn’t. He didn’t mention her—I did—because now she’s all I fucking think about. Ever since I held her in my arms and walked out of the damn asylum like Tarzan.

I had security running after me, telling me that I couldn’t take her. They were going to call the Sheriff, and then I threatened them with exposing them for sedating patients unnecessarily. It kept them quiet, a little too quiet…hmm and they didn’t say a word, and they let me walk out with her. My heart was beating out of control, not because I was scared of them, but I was worried if she was alive, and it felt like the most important thing in the world at the time.

"What the hell do you mean?" I ask, trying to stay interested, but my only worry is tif Penelope wakes up and thinks that she has been kidnapped, then she may just run out of the door. This is when I see another screen, it looks like a baby monitor, but it is in the room that she’s in, upstairs. She’s in bed, there’s no way she’s running anywhere, and I feel relieved being down here and not having to worry about her.

Jamie, stay focused and just think about whatever Noah is talking to you about.

"They're up to no fucking good," he says, his voice hardening. "I dug deeper into Dr. Julia’s phone. She has burner numbers, transactions linked to untraceable accounts. She’s not just treating patients. She’s... moving parts."

What the hell is wrong with these therapists? Are there any clean ones? Are they all on this planet to use our insanity to make money from us?

My stomach lurches, the words sinking deeper than I care to admit. "Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath, my mind racing to connect the dots.

“So, we need to figure out if they’re all in on it.”

Noah nods his head. “This is what I’m thinking is going on. I think the Sheriff is on it. I think the whole town is.”

My eyes widen, because for a second, I thought he had one of those conspiracy theories, but as I repeat what he said in my mind, I realize he does.

“The whole town. Please!”

I stand up, and then start to think about the way the coroner reacted to Ruslan’s death, and the way the Sheriff seemed to want me out of town quicker than I could pick up a coffin. Maybe he’s right. Maybe some people in town know about this, but we can’t be assuming anything, we need to dig deeper and find out who knows what, and who is really involved.

“You keep digging,” I say, as I head toward the door. “I’m going to pay the sheriff a visit.”

“You do that and I’ll make something to eat, and then dig some more. And see what I can find out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say as I pat Noah on the back as we reach the top of the stairs and out of the basement. He closes the door behind him and shoots me a look I can’t quite read—something between confusion and pity. I’m trying too hard. I just want him to trust me. I want him to believe that even after Ruslan’s gone, he’s not alone.

But the truth is, I’m not Ruslan.

And no matter how hard I try, I never will be.

Ruslan knew how to take care of people—especially Noah. He protected him without hesitation, without question. Me? The only thing I’ve ever tried to look after was a pet hamster when I was eight. Ruslan’s hamster lived three full years. Mine didn’t even make it through the first month.

I’ve never really known how to care for anything—at least, not in a way that matters.

And the worst part?

I think I was too broken by the time I even realized what it meant to try.

This is when I hear movement upstairs, and I know it is my cue to leave. Noah shakes his head and rubs his back as he heads to the kitchen. As if he’s perplexed by my gesture. I want to ask him if it annoyed him, or just because it was out of character, but right now it makes no sense to dwell on little things, when there are more important things to worry about.

So I slip out of the house just before Penelope stirs, my footsteps light against the gravel path leading to my rental car. I slide into the driver’s seat, the leather creaks beneath me. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror, scanning the road behind me before I start the engine.

The drive to the sheriff’s office is quiet, the town’s barely stirring in the early afternoon. I grip the wheel tighter, jaw clenching at the thought of what I might find when I get there. My gut tells me something is off. I can feel it.

As I pull into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department, the place looks as dead as my brother’s case. The building is old, red brick with a chipped sign that reads "Maplewood Sheriff’s Department" in peeling white paint. The lights inside cast a sickly glow against the windows. I kill the engine and step out.

The front desk is manned by Deputy Hicks, the Sheriff’s son. He looks just as old as the Sheriff, if not older, with his thinning hair and beady eyes. He looks up as I approach, his eyes narrowing. "Agent Turner,” he says, dragging out my name like it’s a bad taste in his mouth. "Didn’t think we’d see you back here so soon."

I force a tight smile. He’s kidding, they haven’t found my brother’s murderer and they expected me to leave, or rather wanted me to go. The more I think about it, Noah isn’t paranoid, he could be right about the Sheriff’s department, which means both the sheriff, the therapists and the nurses are all on this.

There are no good people, well not in this town anyway. This is what I would always say to Ruslan and he would tell me,

If the only thing you ever see is darkness, then that’s all you're going to see. Noah is a good kid. He came out good, like so many. There are good people in the world, Jamie, you choose to ignore them.

“Agent Turner? Agent?” I can hear echoing in my ear, but the past draws me there making it impossible for me to respond.

Am I grieving? Is this what happens, when you lose someone but don’t know how to react to their loss? Is this the reason I’m fascinated with Penelope, not because I really want her, but she is some messed up connection to my brother.

I don’t know.

I would go and see a therapist, but they’re too busy organ trafficking or helping pedophiles get their next victims.

I ignore him as I ask, “Hicks. The Sheriff in?"

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, but his beady eyes stay locked on me as I stride past him and down the hallway. The Sheriff’s office door is cracked open, and I catch the sound of papers rustling and the low hum of conversation. I knock once, then push inside.

Sheriff Graves looks up from behind his cluttered desk, his blue eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows. He has salt-and-pepper hair that looks as if it has turned more salter since I came to town and the lines on his face deepens as his eyes meet mine. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to your senses and decided to bring the patient back?”

I keep my voice steady, I didn’t come here to start a fight. I came to get answers. "I’m checking in to see if you’ve made any progress on my cousin’s case."

Sheriff Graves’s lips press into a thin line, and he gestures for me to sit. I don’t. He sighs and flips through a stack of papers before settling his gaze on me. "Funny thing, Agent. The witness we had? Gone. Disappeared into your care. So, why are you here asking me if I have any answers?”

My pulse quickens, but I keep my face impassive. “She is not in my care. She signed out of the hospital.”

Not exactly, I told the nurse to get the paperwork, and an unconscious Penelope did a scribble.

“She checked herself in, and I just happened to be there when she checked herself out, that’s all.”

I say innocently. I’m pretty sure the sheriff doesn’t want me sniffing too much. Dirty cops don’t and Noah has already identified him as one of them.

Sheriff Graves leans forward, his elbows on the desk. "Sure, but you just happened to be there at the same time. If she’s back to normal, then how comes she hasn’t been back to work. Her colleagues miss and worry about her.”

I meet his stare head-on. “The same ones that bullied her.”

Noah gave me a background on Penelope’s working life, and I’m pretty sure the girls she worked with, haven’t even noticed that she hasn’t turned up. Then again, they probably did, when they realized they would be the ones having to clean the bathrooms, and not her.

Sheriff Graves narrows his eyes, the muscles in his jaw working. "Listen, Turner, I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but this is my town, my department. It’s been nearly two weeks, you should be arranging a funeral. The FBI needs to keep its nose out," he says to me.

I lean on his desk, my voice low and firm, annoyed, nearly angry that he thinks he can tell me what to do with my dead brother’s body. "You think I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong? I’m just trying to find out who killed my cousin. Unless you’ve got a problem with that."

He smirks, tapping a pen against his desk. "You’re making enemies, Agent. Trust me, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of things around here."

I don’t back down. "We’ll see about that."

The silence between us is thick, the air heavy with tension. Finally, Graves shakes his head, waving me off. "Get out of my office, Turner. And don’t come back unless you’ve got a damn good reason. Like bringing a witness back.”

It’s a threat. I’m pretty sure of that, not only is the Sheriff wanting Penelope back, but he’s going to look up if he hasn’t already done everything about me. This isn’t good, not good at all.

I turn and head for the exit, my heart pounding in my chest. Hicks watches me leave, his smirk still in place, and I resist the urge to wipe it off his face. Outside, I take a deep breath, letting the hot air fill my lungs and trying to shake off the uneasy feeling settling in my gut.

I slide back into the rental car, and drive out of the car park to give myself enough distance from here. They could have put a device in the car. Shit, I shouldn’t have come here, but this is where the issue of trust comes into play. I should have trusted Noah when he said the sheriff was involved, because the sheriff had guilty as sin written all over his decrepit face.

I pull out my burner phone and type out a quick message to Noah once I’m safely parked up.

Get Penelope out of there. You were right about the Sheriff. This whole thing is going sideways.

I ’m so tempted to make a phone call, but the look in the sheriff’s eye tells me that it wouldn’t be a smart move, so I sit anxiously waiting for a reply.

On it. Meet you at the safe house?

We talked about if things go sideways to go to the cabin and meet up there. He remembers the conversation. Of course he does, none of this is new to Noah, but it is to Penelope. She’s not used to having to go to safe houses and all that. This is our life.

Yes!

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and start the engine. The tires crunch against the gravel as I pull out, I’ll meet them there, but first I need to make a pitstop and pay someone else a little visit.