Chapter 26 #2
Jules laughed—just one short bark. Because the man in the photo was none other than Milt Devonshire Junior.
A short haired, clean shaven, non-blotchy-faced, Christmas-sweater-wearing Milt Devonshire Junior.
Who’d lied right to their faces when, clad in what definitely had been a wig, he’d told them he had no idea who Emily Johnson might be.
Never heard of her. Absolutely no clue...
“Damnit,” Jules said, gazing again down at that young woman’s smiling face.
“I hope she’s not dead.” He looked up at Sam.
“What the hell? Harper’s our bad guy—gotta be.
He went to a lot of effort to keep Wig-Milt away from the estate, which strongly suggests that Wig-Milt didn’t know about the ongoing fraud. ”
“All that Don’t let the son in, he’s dangerous shit,” Sam agreed.
“So how do we make this make sense?” Jules asked, but because he was Jules he answered his own question. As usual, all Sam had to do was look a bit pensive and wait. “Unless it’s not binary.”
Except, “Sorry, Squidward, you just lost me.”
“There are more than two possibilities here,” Jules explained.
“It’s not just one, Wig-Milt is in cahoots with Harper, or two, Wig-Milt knows nothing of Harper’s criminal activities.
There’s a three: Harper’s committing fraud along with kidnapping and possibly even murder and Wig-Milt’s perpetrating some fraud and/or criminal activity of his own.
Unconnected to Harper’s garden graveyard. ”
Sam liked option three. “They’re obviously all lying shitheads. Not including Emily.”
Jules nodded, glancing back at the photo. “We have to find her.”
“Very top of our to-do list,” Sam confirmed.
“Who’s around right now in the San Diego Troubleshooters office?” Jules said as they moved quietly around the back of the house to the first of many fences yet to climb. “Because we’re gonna need some help.”
“I’m already on it. Alyssa’s gonna send us a list.” Sam gave him a boost to the top of that fence, then joined him in the neighbor’s yard as they headed toward that parking garage.
Studio City, California
There was a stir on set among the cast, the crew, and the production team that could only mean one thing.
Navy SEAL Chief Cosmo Richter had arrived.
Robin had just finished filming his scenes for the day when the 9-1-1 text from Jules came swooshing into his phone.
So, okay, that was never good, and his head immediately exploded, but he knew the protocol and he immediately tapped back a got-it thumbs up.
But that seemed a little cavalier, like “Great, you’re in such danger that you think I might be in danger, too, thumbs up, whoo-hoo!
” so he added what he thought of as the official what-the-fuck tap-back to a text—the double exclamation points.
Then he stared at his phone, hoping that Jules would respond, but as the minutes slowly ticked by he realized that there were things for him to do.
Call Cosmo was number one on the list.
Having a Navy SEAL brother-in-law who spent a lot of time in Los Angeles with his movie producer wife Jane and their adorable offspring Billy was an unbelievable asset, and sure enough Cosmo was home when Robin called.
Cos didn’t need to hear more than Jules just sent me a lockdown text and Robin’s location before he said, “I’m on my way.”
Like most active duty members of SEAL Team Sixteen, Cosmo had worked with Jules plenty in his FBI before-time, and both trusted and admired him immensely.
Of course, his coming to help because Robin was family was solidly in there, but the super-fast, drop-everything response would’ve required more of a detailed explanation.
But now he was here, causing fainting in craft services—not really, but Marge was fanning herself hard because, yeah.
Tall, muscular, with craggy features in a stern, grim, unsmiling face, Robin’s sister’s husband had it going on.
And that was before Cosmo took off his mirrored sunglasses to reveal pale gray, almost other-worldly eyes.
The fact that he was one of the nicest guys on the planet with one hell of a sense of humor was a bonus that Robin wasn’t about to share.
Let everyone and anyone watching them, for any reason, believe that Cos was the stone-cold warrior that he appeared to be.
Cosmo spotted Robin sitting at one of the little cafe tables near crafty, and immediately came toward him, taking off his sunglasses to give the room a quick sweep of his icy gaze—checking to make sure all was secure.
“I figured I’d be safer here than alone in my trailer,” Robin stood up to greet him and got a nod in response.
“Smart.”
“Coffee?” Robin asked.
Cos nodded. “Actually, yeah, thanks.” He’d been on plenty of sets through the years he’d been married to Janey, and he knew how to help himself, but gave a nod of thanks to Marge which no doubt made her day. “What’s going on?”
“I... don’t exactly know yet,” Robin admitted. He showed Cosmo the text from Jules—with the great big gap of nothingness after the 9-1-1 message had come in, about twenty minutes ago.
His brother-in-law shot him a sharp look that was both understanding and empathetic—before continuing on his search for a sippy lid for his coffee. “Well. I know you probably want to get outta here, but it’s best we hunker down, wait for Jules to reach out again.”
“Yeah, I figured that, too,” Robin said, sitting back down at the little table, again attempting to mind control his phone into coughing up another text from his husband.
Cos put his hand on Robin’s shoulder—a warm, brief squeeze before he sat down and dedicated himself to his coffee. “Jane said Jules is working with LT Starrett—kind of a dream team. Starrett’s still a legend in SpecOp.”
Robin nodded. “Yeah. Sam’s great.” Message received—if Jules was in danger, he was not only not out there alone, he was with a legend. Did it help? Not really... But nice try.
Cosmo was a man of few words—unless of course he was arguing with Janey.
She knew exactly how to make him speak in full paragraphs, which was always amusing to watch.
Robin knew his BIL would probably prefer sitting and waiting in silence, but the fact that Robin was trying not to twitch with anxiety was impossible to ignore.
So Cosmo reached out and put his hand on Robin’s arm this time. Robin had seen him ground his son, Billy, in much the same way. A warm, solid touch, a little eye contact, a gentle question...
“Whyn’t you fill me in on the case they’re working on.” Cos told Robin. “Get a jump on info I’m gonna need to know.”
Now it was Robin’s turn to look questioningly at Cosmo.
Who shrugged. “Dream team,” he pointed out. “Sign me up.”
“But... aren’t you just here for the weekend?” Robin asked. Cos took leave—liberty it was called in the Navy—and zoomed up to LA from San Diego whenever he could. Which was whenever SEAL Team Sixteen was stateside.
“Not exactly,” Cosmo said. “I’d been meaning to tell you and Jules... I, um, I’m out.”
“No way!” Robin couldn’t believe it. “You left the Teams?” Holy, holy shit...
Cos nodded. “I did. I pulled the plug and retired.” He laughed a little. “Hmm. Weird to say that. I haven’t told many people yet. I didn’t think I’d ever leave, but...”
He’d left for a lot of the same reasons that Jules had left the Bureau. It had been a hot topic of discussion in Cos and Jane’s household since last November’s election.
“God, I’m sorry,” Robin said. Now it was his turn to reach out and touch Cosmo, his hand on the other man’s arm.
“I am, too. But... here I am.”
“Welcome to the civilian sector,” Robin said, and with a swoosh, a text from Jules finally appeared. “Safe,” he read aloud. “Oh, thank God.” Swoosh. “Call Cosmo.”
Robin used his thumbs to swiftly type his reply, which he recited for Cos’s benefit. “I’m with him right now. Still at the studio. Where should we go?”
Swoosh. Good question. Hang tight.
Hang tight, Robin could and would do. But while he was hanging tight, he sent Jules a text filled with a thumbs up, a heart, and an I love you. In this crazy world in which they lived, he couldn’t say that often enough.
Jules zapped him back an emoji heart.
Robin put down his phone as he turned back to Cosmo. “Okay. Let’s get into this. Have you ever heard of an old school Hollywood TV producer named Milton Devonshire?”
“Ugh, old school Hollywood? Is it too late to back out? Run home screaming to Jane and Bill?”
“Dream team,” Robin reminded him.
Cosmo sighed heavily. “Right. No, Rob. No, I have not heard of Milton Devonshire, but I think I already hate him.”
Robin laughed. “Yeah, well, settle in, because there’s a long, weird story here.”
“Oh good,” Cosmo said, laughing, too. “Long and weird. My favorites.”
As Robin laughed again, Cos reached out and touched him again on the shoulder—another brief but solid Everything’s okay along with a Good work getting through that.
And Robin realized that just as Jules had been with Sam through whatever danger they’d just encountered, he hadn’t been alone either. And damn, did he appreciate that.
“Okay,” he told his brother in law, “so TV mogul Milton Devonshire has a son named Milton Devonshire Junior that we will call, for clarity’s sake, Wig-Milt....”