Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Can I Ask You a Few Questions?
Forest
The next night I’m working a shift, but Beck and I have arranged a call—six o’clock my time—when Beck is on his way to the arena for tonight’s game. So I’m watching the clock like it owes me money.
Luckily, it’s a quiet night in the bar so far. Izzy is behind the bar with me tonight, and I’m letting her mix all the cocktail orders for practice.
At 5:58, a customer takes the barstool right in front of me. He’s wearing a navy-blue suit and glasses that are steamed up from the sudden change in temperature. He removes them as I set a coaster down on the bar. “What can I get you?”
“Just a Coke if you don’t mind. Are you Seth Forrester?”
“Depends who's asking.” I say it with a smile, so he knows I’m only half kidding. Then I grab a glass and fill it with ice.
He opens his wallet and shows me… Is that a badge? “Jay Callahan, FBI. Can I ask you a few questions?”
Wild. I push the Coke button on the soda gun and fill his glass. “Not gonna lie, that sounds serious.”
He smiles. “It is, but not for you. I need to show you a few photographs and ask you if you recognize anyone.”
“Sure thing. Lot of people come through here in a week, though.”
“Just try, okay?”
“Sure.”
He puts a leather folio on the bar and pulls out two glossy printouts with four photos on each one.
He spins them around, and I give them a glance.
All the men on the page are wearing army uniforms, and I don’t know any of them.
Then I turn to the second page and immediately lock eyes with an image of another army dude. The bottom falls out of my stomach.
It’s him. The guy who drugged me in my own home. The guy who emptied my bank account as well as my self-esteem. Instinct causes me to reach out and cover his ugly smirk with my hand.
“Forest?” Izzy says, and her voice sounds like it’s a mile away. “Remind me what’s in a Moscow Mule?”
Vodka, ginger beer, and lime. The words don’t come out of my mouth, because I’m drowning. I lift my hand and look again at the face I’ve been trying to forget.
“Forest.” Izzy lays a hand on my arm.
The FBI agent comes to my rescue. “Miss, it’s vodka, ginger beer, and lime. Can you give us a moment?”
“Of course. But Forest—your phone is ringing.”
I glance down at my phone. Beck’s face lights up the screen, and I answer like I’m grabbing a lifeline. “Beck?” It comes out as a gulp.
“Hi. You okay?”
“Hell no. There’s an FBI agent here. He just showed me a photo of him.”
There’s a brief silence while Beck connects the dots. And then, “Holy shit! Really? That’s fantastic.”
“Is it, though? I might be sick.”
“Aw, big man. Breathe, honey. Right now.”
I exhale slowly.
“There you go. This is good news. They’re going to nail his ass now. He isn’t going to win. He never was.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right.” And it’s so good to hear your voice. Like medicine.
“So now you know his name?”
“Not yet. I’d better go and finish this conversation.”
“Call me after. No matter what time.”
“But you have—”
“Call me anyway. This is an emergency.”
I close my eyes. “I love you. For real.” The words roll off my tongue.
“I know,” he says easily. “Talk soon.”
We hang up and I turn back to the FBI agent, who’s waiting patiently. I jab a finger into the perpetrator’s face. “Okay, who is this asshole the cops told me they couldn’t find?”
“Maybe they couldn’t find him, but I did.
The problem is that he gets around a lot.
His MO never changes, though. I read your file, and it’s the same story in every state—dating apps, drugs, and financial theft.
His victims are always men. Usually near army bases.
He’s been at this for three or four years. ”
My chest tightens painfully. “Fuck. How many victims?”
“Six so far. You want to know how he finally got caught?”
“Of course I do.”
“Bragging.” Agent Callahan shakes his head in disgust. “Guy got wasted and told his best friend how he made a hundred grand last year, tax free.”
“What’s his real name?”
“Roger Antonio Porras.”
“Roger. My life was turned upside down by a Roger?”
He gives me a stoic nod. “He’s already in custody. But I’m going to need you to give me a formal statement that says you recognize the man in that particular photo.”
My stomach twists. “Happy to do that. Is there any chance I’ll recover some money?”
“Maybe?” He winces. “Hard to say, and it wouldn’t happen fast. This is a federal case.”
“Okay. I understand.” Even though I’ve been stressing about my finances for over a year, the money suddenly matters less to me than it did ten minutes ago. I want him locked up more than I want my money back. “I’ll testify, if it comes to that.”
“Glad to hear that, Mr. Forrester. Some people aren’t that eager to do so.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” I say, and suddenly, I realize that’s completely true. “He’s the one who should be.”
“Agreed.” He gives me a quick smile.
“How’d you find me?” I ask. “I didn’t think the cops gave a shit about me.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “Their investigation was pretty thorough. But this guy was slick, and he never targeted two people in the same metro area. So I had to make a lot of phone calls to figure out where he’d been.
I called Denver PD on a hunch, because there are so many army bases nearby.
I asked if they had any cases like this.
And a smart detective said no, but he’d heard about one up in Erie… ”
I force more oxygen into my lungs. “Wow. That seems fortuitous.”
“It was. I’m sorry to make you relive all this, but he’s going to be prosecuted. He’s going to do time. I’ll make sure you’re kept in the loop.”
“I really appreciate that.”
“Before I go, I just need your statement,” he says. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Great,” I say. Leaves plenty of time for my breakdown.
He pulls out a pad of paper and a pen.