Chapter Fifteen
Sean
“Mr. Fitzpatrick, thank you for coming in to see us again,” Detective Compton said as he sat in the chair across from me, looking ten kinds of cocky, the prick.
I was in an interview room at the Indiana Avenue substation with Officer Mathers and Detective Compton. Austin Torrente was sitting in the waiting room, likely champing at the bit to get back to his husband, and I was slated to suffer through another round of questioning.
“It wasn’t as if I had a choice, Detective Compton. I have appointments this afternoon, so let’s get on with it. I’d like my phone back, by the way. What do you want to know?”
“You were out of town. Where’d you go?” Compton asked.
I took a breath and nodded. “I went to see a guy I met online. He and I have been chatting for a while, and it was time to meet in person.” I didn’t mention Jericho’s name because they didn’t need to know it was him.
They met him at my condo and at the police station, and I didn’t want to cause him any more problems. However, using the story Jericho had told his mother wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever had.
“And where was that?” Compton asked.
“Maryland. Why? Did you find something else out about Byron’s murder? Are you still convinced I’m the person who killed him?”
My gut was spinning like a dryer at the idea they were going to charge me with Byron’s murder. I wasn’t sure what they had or what they thought they had on me, but I wasn’t going to jail for something I didn’t do.
I opened my briefcase and pulled out the envelope that had been delivered to my office on Friday. I hadn’t opened it until Saturday morning when I went into the office to catch up on work. There it sat on my desktop.
After I had a cup of coffee, I picked up the mysterious envelope. On the outside, my name and business address were typed on a label. There was no return address, which was odd.
I grabbed a letter opener and slid the tip under the flap, glancing inside the envelope to see one sheet of paper with what appeared to be a picture. Dread filled my body, sending a shiver down my spine.
Pulling out the paper, shock zinged through me at the sight of a photo of Byron with his head turned at an awkward angle. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open with blood trickling out, frozen for eternity.
Words were smeared on the eight-by-ten photo with some sort of brown paint, maybe?
You’re next.
Immediately, I picked up the photo and jammed it into the envelope, shoving it into my briefcase and locking it until I sat in front of the officer and the detective.
I rolled the tumblers of the lock and opened the briefcase, pulling out the tan envelope. “This was delivered to my office after my car blew up.” I put the envelope on the table and slid it over to them.
“Who touched this besides you?” Compton asked. Mathers retrieved a pair of rubber gloves from her pocket, pulling them on before she picked up the envelope and stared at me, waiting for me to answer Compton’s question.
“Oh, uh, my assistant accepted it from the guard at the front desk, I’m guessing, but beyond that, I have no clue.” Did I look like a fucking psychic?
“We’ll need their prints to eliminate them.” Mathers then reached into the envelope and pulled out the photo. She placed it on the table between them. “Who’s this?”
I glanced at the picture again, another shiver racking my spine. “That was my assistant before you found his remains in the trunk of my car.”
Compton stood and left the room, returning an instant later with a large bag labeled Evidence in red over the top where the bag closed. “Do you know who left it?” Compton asked.
Mathers turned to him and rolled her eyes before returning her focus to me. “I’m guessing no, so we’ll pop down to your office building and look at the security footage. We’ll get the guard’s and your assistant’s prints while we’re there.”
A hard knock shattered the silence as the three of us stared at the garish photo. The door opened, and a tall, thin guy stepped inside and handed an evidence bag containing stapled pages I’d never seen before. “Thanks,” he said before the door closed.
Compton opened the bag and handed me the pages. “Since we didn’t get your cell, we subpoenaed your call log and text messages from your carrier.”
“I’m not surprised. Find anything good?” .
I was done with their good cop, bad cop routine.
I had meetings on The Hill with four Republicans and drinks with Marv Thompson and his boss, Senator Rowe.
Marv left me a message that Rowe was on the fence about the transgender healthcare bill the Republicans were jamming through the House, and I wanted to discuss it with her before the Senate vote.
Compton shook his head. “It lines up with your calendar that we seized. Nothing we didn’t already know, but Mr. Fitzpatrick, don’t leave town without letting us know.”
What a condescending prick!
I held up two fingers, resisting the urge to lower my index finger to flip them the bird, and I walked out of the interview room, heading straight for the front entrance. Dealing with the police was fucking tiresome.
Dominic stood when he saw me, walking ahead of me, which made me think of Jericho. It was the biggest deja vu of my life seeing the front of the building just as I had that day. Hell, the windows were still boarded up from the last time I was at the shithole.
The police still had no suspects in the drive-by shooting intended to end my life. They hadn’t even mentioned it when we were in the interview room. I was beginning to wonder if they even gave a fuck.
We stopped at the front desk for Dom to collect his Sig Sauer P365x handgun—as he’d told me—and then we headed toward the front door. He turned to me. “Gimme a minute, Sean.”
He walked outside and flagged a taxi, his head on a swivel.
When a white taxi with blue letters stopped in front of him, Dominic stuck his head inside and spoke to the driver before he jogged up the steps and motioned me out.
I followed him to the cab, him continuing to observe everything that happened around us.
It reminded me of the young guy on the bike who got hit by the black Tahoe used in the drive-by. “That kid who got hit in that drive-by, has anyone talked to him?”
Dom held open the door for me to slide inside. Once he was in the cab, he told the driver, “Dirksen Senate Office Building on Constitution Northeast, please.”
The driver hit the meter, and we were on our way.
Dom turned to me. “Austin went by the guy’s apartment on his way to Davidsonville this morning.
The guy is a grad student at Georgetown University, and he lives not far from here.
They put a pin in his leg, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.
He said he had no idea who hit him, but the vehicle had cut him off at the previous stoplight, and he noticed there wasn’t a license plate on the back.
Uncle Gabe said it was probably a coincidence and not a diversionary tactic.
Basically, the guys in the Tahoe were just assholes. ”
“Yeah, probably. So, I’m going to see two senators and then head over to the Rayburn House office building to speak to two House members before we go meet Marvin Thompson and Senator Eileen Rowe for drinks. Is that a problem for you?”
I remembered that Jeri wasn’t bothered by my drinking, but I didn’t really know Austin and Dominic.
I didn’t want to put either of them in an awkward position by forcing them to sit in a room with folks drinking if it made them uncomfortable.
They were incredibly nice to me, and I wanted to return their kindness. I wasn’t completely heartless.
“Do I get to have a drink?” Dominic asked, a grin on his face.
“Hell yeah. I’m buying.” We both laughed.
The cab pulled in front of the Dirksen, and after I paid him, we got out and headed toward the doors.
I hoped to hell the meetings were productive and I was able to change hearts and minds regarding the necessity for gender-affirming care for trans youth.
I would fight to the death to help my brothers and sisters stay healthy, happy, and most importantly, alive.
The meetings I’d had on The Hill that morning were fifty-fifty.
The congressman from Iowa walked the party line and said I was scarring children by advocating that puberty blockers be prescribed to kids, refusing to listen to my explanation that the blockers slow the onset of puberty.
They didn’t stop it forever. He told me I was a lying child abuser.
It was all I could do to keep from punching the fucker in the mouth.
The congresswoman from Alabama listened to my statistics and my stories from the families of young people who committed suicide due to being denied gender-affirming healthcare.
The tears she tried to hide were not for show.
A person with any kind of heart couldn’t hear those stories and not be touched.
Senator Walter Jeffers from Arkansas quoted verses from his Bible that had nothing to do with what I wanted him to understand. He finally said, “If they end their lives themselves, well, maybe that’s for the best.” I couldn’t believe my ears. The motherfucking asshole had no soul.
I stormed out and went to the men’s room down the hall. Every fucking time I had to meet with some of these assholes, I wanted a scalding hot shower, or I wanted to puke. Since no shower was available, I succumbed to the latter.
The door to the men’s room opened, and Dominic Torrente walked inside, standing outside the stall where I was kneeling. “Sean? I’m assuming it went badly, and I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Can you call Jericho? I need him,” I whispered as I continued to dry heave.
Why I needed a man I’d barely known for ten days wasn’t something I could address as I expelled everything in my gut. For the first time in my life, I believed to my core that someone cared about me. I hadn’t had that in a very long time.
“Sure. I’ll call him. Austin is on his way back, but he can turn around, Sean.” He stopped talking and paced around the men’s room for a moment. “What if he can’t get away?”
One more dry heave and I stood, dusting off the knees of my slacks as I flushed the commode. I opened the door and glanced at Dominic, who was over six feet. “I’m sorry. Don’t bother Jericho. He’s got his horses and his mom. I have no right to ask him to drop his life and come hold my hand.”
Dominic chuckled. “I get the feeling he’d be here if he could, Sean. We need to get you to the restaurant for your other meeting if you’re feeling up to it. If not, I can call Mrs. Lambert to cancel it for you.”
I splashed water on my face as I bent over the sink, finally feeling the nausea subside. I stood and grabbed some paper towels, drying my face and exhaling. I glanced into the mirror to see Dominic with several paper towels in his hands. “How bad was it?”
“Walt Jeffers from Arkansas fed me Bible bullshit and then said, ‘If they end their lives themselves, well, maybe that’s for the best.’ How in the fuck can anyone say that about children who are most likely living in misery? I can’t begin to fathom it.”
Dominic sighed. “I hear what you’re saying, Sean, but those are the exact people who need you. You can’t stop fighting, and I’m not going to let you give up. Let me check in with Austin.”
We walked out of the restroom and toward the stairs to leave the building. When we got to the first floor, I was surprised to see Austin standing at the front door waiting for us.
When he saw us through the glass, he opened the door with a big grin. “I have our vehicle over here,” he said as he pointed to a curb spot.
The black SUV at the curb was still running. As I walked toward it, the back door opened, and there stood my gorgeous cowboy. I wanted to run to him, but I had a reputation to maintain. When Jeri smiled at me, I caught my breath.
“How’d you get away from Gayle and the horses?” I stood in front of him, unable to process what I was seeing.
Jeri took off his cowboy hat and placed it on my head with a big grin. “Cody and John Langer are taking care of the horses for me, and John’s father, Kenny, is hanging out with Mom. Apparently, he’s the new cock of the walk, according to Mom. So, what are we doing?”
I pulled him into my arms and, for the first time in a few days, took in a deep breath of him. Why did I think Jericho Hess had burrowed into my soul? I had no idea, but there he was, right inside me.