Chapter Twenty-Two
The observation area had a single rickety chair behind the oneway mirror. Riley chose to stand. On the other side of the glass, the interview room had a fiberboard table and two sturdy metal chairs. One chair trapped Thomas Cole in the corner, facing the mirror with a faraway look in his eyes. He hadn’t shaved for a few days and several flecks of food or lint stuck to his blond scruff. Bags of dark skin under his bloodshot eyes indicated he hadn’t slept for a while, either. A thick layer of grime covered his teeth. Riley would have pegged him as ‘off the wagon’, but meth was not known for its calming effects. And Cole hadn’t moved in ten minutes.
Kelly strode in then sat on the remaining folding chair, as if this was her office in her police department. She took several minutes tucking her purse under her chair, sorting the files in her lap, and then setting a stack of them on the table.
Riley clicked the speaker button to hear inside the room.
“My name is Kelly Marks. I’m a special agent with the FBI.” After paging through a folder, Kelly took a sheet out and slid it across the fiberboard table. “This is a waiver of your right to an attorney. If you choose to sign it, understand that anything you say, we will and can use against you in a court of law. You have the right—”
Cole picked up the pen and signed the paper.
Kelly’s mouth parted slightly, and she glanced at the mirror before turning back to Cole. “You have a right to an attorney at any time before, during, and after this interview. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed at no cost to you. Knowing your rights as I have explained them to you, Mr. Cole, are you waiving your right to have an attorney present during this interview?”
“Yes.”
As if she didn’t quite believe her luck, she asked him again, “And you understand that waiving your right to an attorney means that—”
“Could you live with what I did?”
Was Cole confessing? Riley stepped closer to the mirror. His heart felt like it stopped and then every beat came back at once.
Kelly reached around her chair to find her phone in her purse and set the camera up facing Cole. The interview was being recorded but she apparently wanted to cover her bases. “Before you speak, your father has been notified that your current attorney is unable to be present. Do you wish to wait for another attorney or waive your rights?” She really wanted this on the record. No judge would throw out a confession now.
“I can’t go to jail for rape.” Cole finally looked at her. “Not for rape. I have a son, Agent Marks.” Visibly holding back his emotions, he used two shaking fingers to slide the paper over to her. Without knowing him better, it was difficult to tell why his voice broke. “What I did…I was high.”
“I understand,” Kelly said.
“You don’t. How could you?” Cole lost focus, staring past her with a glazed expression. “Do you know what I did? Did… God, I forgot his name. Did he tell you?”
Don’t you fucking say his name. Don’t you even fucking think his name. Riley’s fingers curled into fists. He nearly smashed through the glass. After purposefully flexing his hands, he sat in the rickety chair and leaned forward.
“Yes. He’s made a statement,” Kelly said. “Would you like to tell your side?”
“What possible side could I have?” Cole’s eyes went dead again.
“No one with a soul could live with that, Mr. Cole.” Kelly empathizing as she was taught, as all agents were taught, was the best way to elicit a confession. Riley thanked God that she was the one in there.
“I have been clean and sober for nearly three years,” Cole said. His voice carried defeat and resignation. “I have nightmares. Every night. My wife sleeps with our son because my cries wake him up. My son…He’s innocent. I have to do right by him. He can’t grow up with his father being a rapist. Get me a deal but not as a sex crime. No registry. No rape charges. Whatever time.”
“You have to give me something for a deal like that. Are you willing to do that?”
“I’ll do the time.”
“I need the names of the men your father sent after Julian Thompson. And all the men involved in James Thorpe and Patrick Lemelin’s deaths. Names. Where we can find them. What kind of weapons they have. Then we can discuss your deal.”
That’s when she finally brokered a real look. “My father? But my father’s not in charge of FSI, Agent Marks.”
She deliberately went stone faced and picked up the folder. “Rapists have it pretty easy where you’re going, but no one is a fan of a child rapist.” She leaned in close to his ear. “Especially when the victim is a boy.”
“My father hasn’t been in charge for years. He can’t be while running for office.”
“I want names. Dates. Proof that these three men”— she laid mugshots of the men who had been at the church on top of his waiver—“worked for, and were paid by, your father, or any of his subsidiaries. I want information on bank accounts and—”
“My father is a name. A face they send out to people like you who ask questions. My father is not in charge. Please believe me.” When she got up, he grabbed her wrist. “Please. I’m telling you the truth. It’s not my father you want, it’s his business partner, Xander Rocha.”
“Xander Rocha is dead. One of the casualties found on the MV Lion Star when pirates attacked the weapons freighter. He was identified by several of his crew. Did you think we wouldn’t investigate that, Mr. Cole?”
How much of the investigation had come in without him. A selfish part of Riley thought about what this case could have done for his career. Then he remembered what he got instead. The selfish thoughts disappeared.
“My father and Xander were the founders of the firm. When dad got into politics, Xander ran the blind trust. After he died, that trust transferred to a subsidiary LLC run by a board.”
Kelly rearranged the stack of folders until she found the one she was looking for. From it, she laid several papers in front of him. “Do you recognize any of these company names?”
After a glance through several pages, he said. “Yes. All of them.”
“Who is running these! Who is paying these men?”
Cole just shook his head.
“You feel bad, Mr. Cole?” Kelly took out a different folder and slammed it down onto the table. Several pictures scattered in front of Cole. “For this?” She slapped more pictures in front of him. Even from an angle, with all the bruising, Riley recognized the scars on Cai’s arms. “And this?” Kelly shoved over a handwritten paper directly under Cole’s gaze. “Thomas Cole used a” —she leaned over to read— “hot meth pipe against my neck. When I screamed—”
“A deal! Get me my deal!” Cole gritted his teeth and shoved the array of pictures away.
It wasn’t until Riley felt cramps in his hands that he realized they were still clenched into fists.
Kelly continued unabated, “‘When I screamed he stuffed his socks in my mouth. I tried push him off and kick him. Thomas Cole got angry when I wouldn’t stop, so he punched my face while holding the meth pipe. He’ll have a half-moon scar on his right palm where the pieces of glass went in.’” She turned Cole’s hand over and held it into the light. “Looks like broken bulb from a meth pipe to me. What about you?”
Cole yanked away from her grasp. “Stop!”
“A name!” Kelly demanded.
“Get me my deal. Or I’ll revoke my waiver.”
Kelly nearly ripped the door handle off on her way out.
* * *
Riley spotted Cai leaning against the wall near the waiting room. His eyes were closed, and a pair of earbuds were stuffed in his ears. Peter sat next to him, absorbed in whatever was on his screen. When he noticed Riley, he slid the phone away and stood up. Cai must have felt the movement because he opened his eyes. The quick rise and fall of his chest revealed his anxiety. Keeping his eyes on Riley, he pulled an earbud out and then began to pick at his fingers. Crusted blood flaked off onto the floor, but he kept ripping until a fresh drop trickled into the cuticles.
Riley needed to handle this carefully, to phrase Thomas Cole’s plea as a good thing. It was a good thing, but he had no way of knowing Cai’s reaction. One of many precarious conversations they’d had over the past week. And more to come. He would be navigating this path of eggshells and minefields every day of his life with Cai. That scared the shit out of him. His pace slowed as fear sparked an all-out war with his heart.
“What’s going on? It’s been hours,” Peter said, blocking Cai like a wolf protecting a cub.
“Stop it, Peter.” Cai huffed through his teeth and pushed his brother’s hip until he moved aside. He read something in Riley’s face that made him fall into the seat behind him. His body sagged in defeat. “Just stop it,” he murmured.
Along with everything else that needed to be fixed, Cai and Peter apparently hadn’t used any of the past few hours to work anything out. Riley had that to contend with, as well.
Pardon my language, God, but anytime you want to step in and scrape some of the shit off my shoulders, I’d really appreciate it.
Riley sat next to Cai and waited for Peter to take the other seat. “Cole is ready to accept a plea. He’s not asking for any sentence reduction.”
“He’s gonna do time?” Cai asked.
“It appears so. They’re waiting on his new lawyer to draw up a deal. This is good news. You won’t have to testify.”
“How much time will he do,” Peter asked, doubt sewn into every syllable.
“Until a deal has been drafted, we don’t know.” Riley decided to lay out the facts in as neutral a manner as possible. “His new attorney might convince him to reject a deal that includes time.”
“Can they still offer him immunity?” Peter wrapped his hand around Cai’s wrist. It wasn’t right away, but seconds later, Cai shook free of the grasp. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by either Riley or Peter. Neither of them said anything.
In light of Cai’s hair trigger, Riley thought about phrasing or giving him hope, but everything in his heart told him that the truth now would be better than a surprise later. “They can. And he might accept. He’s been clean for three years and guilt is driving the deal, but a new attorney will do their best to convince him to negotiate a better one.” Riley wanted to let that sink in before adding that even if Cole did serve time, it wouldn’t be for rape.
“Guilt,” Cai said quietly, drawing his brows in. “About what he did to me?”
“Yes.”
“Am I supposed to have pity on him?” Cai asked, bitterness and anger lacing each word. “Is it supposed to make up for what he did?” He glanced out the window behind him and then winced and covered his ears.
“It isn’t real.” Peter wrapped an arm around him.
“I know.” Cai pushed Peter’s chest but didn’t escape the embrace. “Don’t manage me!” He dropped his arms. “I’m sorry.” He let out a laugh that was half sobbed. “I’m always sorry, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, pulling him closer. “But it’s okay. Nothing you do or say will change how I feel about you.”
Somehow, that infuriated Cai. His eyes turned into pure granite. “I would have never gone with Iss if I knew,” he said. “This is your fault.”
Before this day, the one thing Riley was absolutely certain of was that Cai could never be intentionally cruel to the people he loved. But there it was, the breadth and depth of his rage laid out in four words.
Peter backed off, wiped his slack mouth with the back of his hand, and then he just stood there, staring at nothing.
Cai went from fury to shame in the next heartbeat. His cold stare shattered into tears. “No,” he choked out. “No. I’m sorry, Rabbit. I’m sorry. Damn it. Damn it! I keep saying it and now it doesn’t mean anything.”
“What did I just say?” Peter grabbed Cai’s face and tried to catch his gaze.
Through sobs, Cai babbled while reaching up his sleeve and tearing into the skin on his arm. The sound alarmed Riley but he didn’t get between the two brothers. “I thought I meant it. I’ve been blinded with this rage. I thought I felt that way. But when I heard myself... I’m so ashamed. I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” Peter said, stilling Cai’s hand. “We’re good. This is just one more thing we gotta get over. Okay?”
Feeling intrusive, Riley left them alone to, hopefully, finish this discussion.
* * *
It took an hour and a half for Cai to join him on the bench at the entrance. He put down his e-reader and looked around for Peter. “Work things out?”
“Yeah. Mostly? We got to where we can talk, anyway.” His eyes were puffy and his nose stuffed, but he looked calmer and more clear-eyed than he had in days. “It’s hard to judge things right now because I’m angry. The way he acts with me? It makes me act like a kid. And I can’t really deal with him until he learns to treat me like an adult.” He gave Riley a wry smile. “Or until I start acting like one. You know, I see my immaturity, the same immaturity that makes you uncomfortable, but I feel helpless to stop it. It’s second nature, especially around Peter. One day. I’ll figure it out. Right now, I’d like to go home. With you. Your home, I meant.”
“What about Peter?”
“Austin is picking him up after Darryl’s arraignment. In case they need to post bail.”
The fear interred around Riley’s heart opened just enough to allow a smile through. “Let’s go home, then.” He wrapped his arm around Cai and pulled him close as they walked to the car.
* * *
The Crazy had climbed into Cai’s brain, bringing with it an incoherent pit of angry snakes. It was there, but not quite, waiting to slither into his prefrontal cortex. Peter had seen the warning signs and had set up playlists accordingly. Cai was to listen to it until his meds pushed out The Crazy. If they could. He turned the volume in his earbuds higher, receiving a warning message that it could damage his hearing. He bypassed the warning and the rough growl of death metal blared, drowning out the hiss of unwelcome passengers. Cai didn’t like it, but it was the ‘music’ that worked best. It didn’t help his other issues, though.
The Crazy was unpredictable. It had no direction. No reasoning. It just was whatever it felt like. Angry. Funny. Excited. Aroused.
So aroused.
He eyed the bulge in Riley’s pants and licked his lips.
This tiny car was filled with amazing scents. Lemon from the cheap cologne, which was suddenly kinda sexy. That musky, foresty smell from laying down the hardwood floors. It clung to his clothes and skin. Cai inhaled, glancing at Riley’s thick thighs and squirmed in his seat. Still nothing below. He smashed his feet on the dashboard, bringing his knees to his chest, and glared out the window, tears flowing down his cheeks.
He was really sick of crying, too. The other fun side effect of the new meds. Or his bipolar. Who knew which one caused what.
Riley tapped his knee. Cai wiped his eyes and stemmed the tears before taking an earbud out.
“I told you that it’s okay to cry. I won’t think less of you. It might help to talk about it, though.” Riley scratched the back of his own head, something he did when uncomfortable or nervous. “Do you need to yell at me, too?”
They were nearly home, and the stop signs were plentiful. Shadows passed over the car and took frightening shapes. Cai tried to ignore them. “You think I’m angry at you?” he asked.
“And the justice system and probably everyone in the world. Cole may get time, Cai, it just won’t be for rape.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“He’s got information we need to keep you safe. You didn’t want to testify, remember?”
“No. That’s fine. I meant I don’t understand why you think I’d be angry at you about that? I knew this is what would happen the moment I let you have him.”
Glancing over, Riley exhaled sharply out of his nose as he laughed. “Osmosis?”
One of the greatest things about Riley was his ability to get obscure things. Cai looked at his knees, grinned, and bit his bottom lip. Should being happy at a time like this concern him? Never mind. He was sick of thinking about it. Worrying about it.
Maybe it was as simple as The Dark hadn’t won. The Crazy wasn’t winning. He could just be happy for a while. He could let himself be happy. “Osmosis is how Julian thinks my mind works. Logic is the reality. It wasn’t difficult to deduce what you would do with my confession. Nor was it difficult to figure out what the FBI would do. I was surprised about Tommy confessing, though. That wasn’t even on my radar.”
“Did you just call me predictable?” Riley’s tone was both playful and injured.
“Yes. I suppose that’s a negative to you, which is strange because you seem to aim specifically for predictable in every situation. But predictability is one of the things I love about you.”
A flash of something unreadable passed over Riley’s face. It was replaced by a smirk. “Noted.” At the next stop sign, he leaned over and kissed Cai’s forehead. “I love you too.”
Cai sat up in his seat as the car pulled away from the sign. In the whirlwind of his thoughts, anger devoured them all. He lashed out. “Stop doing stuff like that!”
Riley pulled the car over, and the backup car screeched to a stop behind them. “Stop being so prickly about how I show affection. Accept some damn comfort.”
“This is a serious conversation.”
“I am taking it seriously,” Riley said. “You said you weren’t angry.”
“I said I wasn’t angry at you!” The calm response only made Cai more furious. And the fact that he couldn’t control that fury exacerbated it. “Kissing the top of my head?” he spat, not quite a yell but close. Why couldn’t he yell though? It was Riley’s fault that he couldn’t slit Tommy’s throat. Riley’s fault he wouldn’t hear him beg for his life. Riley’s fault he wouldn’t ever have justice. “Take me seriously!” Oh. His mouth snapped shut. He frowned and tilted his head, suddenly aware that he was angry at Riley. A second later he tried to apologize, but was cut off before he could get a word out.
“No laughing. No hugging. No comfort. Got it,” Riley said. “What do you want me to do when you’re sad or upset? Tell me the protocol! Is there a set place to put my hand? A set place to kiss you? Your forehead is off limits, what about your cheek? Maybe you want me to kiss your ass!”
Cai’s mouth dropped open, and then he bit his bottom lip to stifle the urge to laugh.
“Are you laughing?”
“Yes. And yes, I’m mad at you. I’m mad at the FB-fucking-I. I’m mad at Tommy Cole. I’m mad at Peter. I’m mad that the voices are here and that my medication isn’t working as well. I’m mad that I just wrote a statement detailing seven hours of rape and that, after writing something so disgusting, I’d like nothing more than to be lost in your skin and your mouth and your touch, but that’s impossible because I’m apparently impotent right now, which is the one area my meds are working. I’m mad that I love you. And I’m especially mad at the super crappy way you decided to tell me you love me back! For the first time.”
“Okay!”
“Okay back!”
Riley threw up his hands and peeled out just as Johanson walked up to the window. Cai watched the agent sprint back to his SUV. He looked at Riley and pressed his lips together and then demanded, “I want a real ‘I love you’. Not some half-assed thrown-in-there-to-make-me-feel-better I love you.”
From behind his seat, Riley felt for something and then grabbed his long coat. He threw it on Cai’s lap. “Right pocket.”
“Huh?” Cai lifted the coat and then searched but only found Riley’s e-reader. He held it up. “What—”
“Take it out of the case,” Riley bit out.
Cai did and a letter fell to the floor. He picked it up and stared at the writing. His letter. Worn and smeared with finger oil. Cai sniffed as tears threatened him again. “I’m really sick of crying. Really, really sick of it.” He clutched the letter to his chest. “This is better.”
“ Other pocket.”
There was more? Cai excitedly dug back in and felt plastic. From the left pocket, he pulled out his yellow cap, sealed in an evidence bag. He stared at the ugly chullo for a good long minute, unable to speak. “You broke the law for me?” Another sniffle. “This is really romantic.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Riley rolled his eyes.
“It doesn’t count as the I love you.”