Page 32 of Hushed Guardian
My attitude takes a step back when Phillipa replies, “I’m here seeking the same set of answers you are, Melody, but no one appears willing to ask the hard-hitting questions.”
Her determination is inspiring, but I’m still cautious. Why after all this time is she interested in my parents’ case? The prosecution of a deceased defendant is extremely rare. I’ve not heard of a single case since I commenced studying law over seven years ago. Unless I want to bring a civil suit against Bobrov, which I have no intention of doing, Agent Russell’s investigation makes no sense whatsoever. Unless…
“What division of the Bureau did you say you were in again?”
The friendly mask Phillipa has been wearing the past twenty minutes slips away as her lips tug into an uneasy grin. “I didn’t, but for whatever it matters, I’m part of a special task force that has a direct association with the IA Department.”
“Internal Affairs,” I say in full, ensuring she knows I’m not as silly as she seems to believe. “So, you’re not here about my parents’ deaths. You’re here to take down one of your own for an alleged act of vigilantism.”
She looks pleased more than annoyed by my reply. It’s a known trait of any female when they realize the person they’re attempting to railroad is just as smart, if not smarter, than them.
I push the photographs she placed down in front of me back to her side of the desk. “So much for comradery between peers.”
“Two hours isn’t enough time to protest the law and carry out your own agenda,” Phillipa shouts, her voice rising to a level even my implants find distasteful.
Although I could retaliate with just as much malice, I keep a cool, collective head. “But it was certainly enough time for the officers on the scene to rule my parents’ death as an accident. But you’re not here to get justice for them or me, are you? You want the person responsible for freeing the world of a rodent nobody wanted. Why am I not surprised? Justice only occurs for those willing to fight for it.”
When I immaturely roll my eyes before spinning on my heels and heading for the door, the real reason for Agent Russell’s request for an interview is exposed. “You uncovered the connection yourself, Melody. You recognized Bobrov and Crombie’s identical tattoos, so who’s to say Brandon didn’t also make the same connection?”
“Leave Brandon out of this. He had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Allegedly,” Agent Russell fires back, her smirk back to its previous smug appearance. “It’s my job to prove what he did or didn’t do.” My stomach rolls when she slaps down a picture of a man hanging in a jail cell. I recognize his face in an instant. It’s the man who set my dorm on fire years ago. “Two men killed years apart, and they both have one connection. You.” She raises her eyes to mine, “Or should I say, you and Brandon?”
Years of legal studying ensures she can’t rattle me. “A prisoner in your custody died on your watch, Agent Russell. If anyone should be interrogated, that person should be you.” The image of Crombie hanging lifelessly bombards me with horrid, sick memories of Joey hanging from the old oak tree at the McGee’s ranch, but I keep a rational head. “There are no defensive wounds on the defendant’s hands, neck, or face. The noose is made from material similar to the jumpsuits prisoners are transported in, and even with your zoom capabilities being proven mighty effective today, it’s obvious he’s in a prison cell. Not even drug addicts like peeing in a lidless toilet.” After pointing out each of my objectives on Crombie’s photograph, I push it back to Phillipa’s side of the desk before taking a big breath.
In my eagerness to talk, my words aren’t as clear as I want. “If you came here hoping I’d help you pin a murder on an innocent man, you underestimated me. Even if I were still deaf, I still wouldn’t have been stupid enough to fall for your tricks.”
With my head held high, and my determination at a place I never thought it would be, I exit the room.
16
BRANDON
I drag my hand down my tired face when Grayson says, “I told you this was way bigger than us. It’s as deep as it goes.” For the first time in almost a year, he’s standing across from me instead of tattling in my ear like he usually does. We’re conducting our meeting in the shadows of a shady back alley, hiding out like we’re one of the many criminals we’ve put away the past seven-plus years. If we get caught with the files we have, we could very well end up behind bars with those men. They’re not just sealed, they are a matter of national security, and the proof I’ve been seeking the past almost seven years.
Mr. Gregg didn’t end things the way my father implied because of something hurtful Melody said. He was taken down by an organization the Bureau has been chasing for years. Because the hub of this entity is based on foreign soil, rumors are the Bureau had been working alongside the CIA to infiltrate it. As I’ve said before, I’m not a fan of rumors, but the information Grayson has shared with me the past hour is pretty damning.
I grip the file in my hand a little harder while asking, “Why is the CIA acting as if Liam’s death was an accident? Why not come clean and say he was taken out by an organization he was investigating?”
Grayson shrugs. “I don’t know. I figure that’s why Tobias did some investigating under the radar. There’s some murky shit going on here, Brandon.”
As I shift my eyes to the photograph of a man believed to be the third assailant in the Greggs’ home invasion, I ask, “Did Tobias have any leads on who killed this man?”
Grayson’s shrug isn’t as convincing this time around.
“Do you think his murder was payback for the Greggs’ ‘accident’?” I nudge my head to a photograph of a deceased body slumped in the gutter in a small town bordering Saugerties. When Grayson lifts his chin, I grind out, “That’s why Crombie broke into Melody’s dorm. He wanted to reinitiate their game of tit-for-tat. The only thing I can’t work out is why there was such a big gap between incidents.”
“They unearthed something no one knew previously.” When I peer at him in shocked silence, he adds, “No one knew Melody was deaf.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Grayson looks at me as if I’m an idiot. “Melody identified Henry Gottle, Sr. in the photo we showed her at the dress boutique. She mentioned she’d met him a handful of times before their home invasion. What if the men who organized the hit believed Melody had heard something she shouldn’t have? I don’t know about you, but if I discovered the only surviving witness to a massive conspiracy I was endeavoring to hide was deaf, I wouldn’t be overly worried about tying up loose ends.”
He has a point, but I still don’t like it. “Something about this feels off. Melody attended school for months before Crombie found her.”
“She attended school as Melody Gregg. I scoured over three decades of records seeking a home invasion or murder charge under that name when this case first popped up on Tobias’s radar. I didn’t find a single case with that surname attached to it.”
“They didn’t make that shit up, Grayson. I held Melody when she woke up screaming and drenched in sweat. You can’t fake that kind of fear. The pain in her eyes… fuck. It still kills me now.”
