Chapter 20

           

            A.J. and Rick sat in a back booth at The Hillman House waiting for Brendan to arrive.  Their cousin was twenty minutes late, but neither man seemed to notice.  This was the first time since Rick's recent weekend at Camp Cord that they'd gotten a chance to talk.  Because they had other cases they were involved in, neither brother had been in the Simon office Monday afternoon.  They met in the parking lot at seven that evening and rode together in Rick's Durgano to the restaurant. 

 

            What little A.J. knew about this meeting he'd gotten in a brief phone call from his brother late Sunday evening.  When he'd tried to question Rick as to why having dinner with Brendan was so urgent, Rick wouldn't say anything other than, "I know we're gonna be working on separate cases tomorrow afternoon, so we probably won't see each other.  Meet me back at the office around seven.  Brendan wants us at a place called The Hillman House by seven-thirty.  We can ride in my truck."

 

            "But, Rick...wait.  What's this all about?"

            "I have no idea."

 

            "When did you talk to Brendan?  Did he leave a message on your answering machine?"

 

            "No.  He didn't leave a message.  I saw him."

 

            "Saw him?  Saw him where?"

            "There."

 

            "There where?  Rick, I feel like Doctor Seuss."

 

            "You sound like him, too.  So enough with the rhymes."

 

            "Then answer my question.  Where'd you see Bren? The only place you were this weekend was Camp Cord."

 

            "Yeah."

 

            "What do you mean, yeah?"

 

            "I mean yeah, that's where I saw him."

            "But--"

 

            "A.J., it's almost eleven o'clock and I'm beat.  This playin' weekend warrior is wearin’ me out.  Besides, I can't tell you anything more than that because I don't know anything more than that."

            "But, Rick--"

 

            "Say goodnight, A.J."

            The frustrated blond man had been left holding a phone that buzzed a dial tone in his ear while a hundred unanswered questions swirled in his mind.

 

            Now the two men sat sipping ice water and munching bread sticks and rolls from the basket a waitress had set in the middle of their table.  Rick filled A.J. in on his weekend, leaving Brendan's name out of the conversation for the time being.  Though the restaurant was almost empty, Rick kept his voice low. 

 

            "There are guards posted at the camp all week long.  Three guys stay on a rotating basis.  And you can tell Creek I got a good long look at Cord's master plan book."

 

            "Master plan book?"

            "Yep."  Rick buttered a roll and took a bite.  "Everything he needs is in there from dates, to places, to times.  I memorized it as best I could and wrote it all down last night."  The detective reached into a hip pocket of his jeans and passed his brother a folded slip of paper.  "Give that to Casey and have her get it to Creek.  I know he'll want me to get the actual book to him, but right now I'm not exactly sure how I'm gonna do that."

 

            "Why?"

 

            "Because Cord keeps it locked up in his desk for one thing.  Picking the lock will be child's play, but the downside to this is he said no one but me knows the book exists."

 

            A.J. nodded his understanding.  "So as soon as Cord discovers it's missing, he'll know who took it."

            "He ain't no dummy, so I expect he'll have a pretty good idea.  For a lotta reasons Cord's not gonna give that book up without a fight."

 

            "I've got a feeling that means there's more to this than you've told me so far."

 

            "Yeah.  More than even the FBI knows I imagine.  December twenty-second isn't only D-Day here in San Diego, A.J.   Cord has himself aligned with paramilitary groups all over the country who are, right now, training for mass carnage on that same date.  When Pellman said we were gonna be thrust into a state of panic and confusion as a result of Cord's plans, he had no idea what he was predicting."

 

            A.J. shook his head, unable to believe one man could potentially cause that much destruction and death.

 

            "Therefore, Creek needs to let me know how to proceed," Rick stated.  "I told him that in the note I just handed you.  Plus, I've got a feeling something's up that's gonna happen sooner than the events I saw listed, but I'm not sure what."

 

            "What makes you say that?"

 

            "Just some things I overheard when I was in the boys' camp this weekend.  I gotta feeling it's supposed to be top secret, but you know how kids like to talk.  I think, and mind you this is only an assumption based on what I overheard a couple fifteen year olds say, but I think there's gonna be some kinda training run, so to speak ,within the next few weeks.  Something that involves the boys."

 

            "You mean something to get the kids wet behind the ears before D-Day."

 

            "Exactly.  But whether that means innocent people will get hurt in the process, or whether it's just something that Cord is planning to stage out at the camp, I don't know.  I'm hoping to find out one way or another this weekend.  I'm supposed to be in charge of the boys again.  I've got a little pal there by the name of Justin Bidwell, who just might be willing to spill the beans to me."

 

            "Is he the son of the guy you said was Cord's second in command?"

 

            "Yeah.  Only he's not an asshole like his old man.  Hell, A.J., he's twelve and could pass for nine.  Just a skinny little guy who looks like he should be spending his weekends on a baseball diamond as opposed to being brainwashed with racial epitaphs.  And, actually, I think playing second base is where he'd rather be.  Anyway, me and the kid formed a fast friendship this weekend.  Because he's younger than the other boys by at least three years, they pick on him a lot."

 

            "So you took advantage of that, huh?"

 

            "Oh yeah.  You know your big brother, I never was one to pass up on opportunity when she comes knockin'.  But, aside from that, Justin's an okay kid.  I feel sorry for him for a lot of reasons.  Like I said, I don't think he really wants to be a part of Camp Cord, and the other kids tend to make him the butt of their jokes.  So, I simply spent a little time building up his self-esteem.  In part because he needed it, and in part because he's got information I wanna know.  And because of my new found little friend, I did discover that the old maintenance building on the grounds of the boy's camp is filled with guns, grenades, and dynamite, just like the one at the men's camp."

 

            "Did you get inside of it?"

 

            No," Rick smiled in a way that indicated to A.J. he was quite pleased with himself.  "I simply asked Justin what was in it.  He was quite eager to tell me."

 

            "Well, you just better hope he isn't eager to tell his old man you asked."

 

            Rick shrugged.  "So what if he does?  I didn't indicate to the kid that I knew what was in the same building at the men's camp.  I just posed it as an innocent question.  You know, wanting to know why a boy always stands guard at the building.  The kid didn't seem to think it was out of the ordinary that I'd ask, or that he shouldn't tell me.  But, then, that makes sense.  He's been raised to have respect for anyone he perceives to be in a position of authority.  And believe me, he knows old Sergeant Simon is the authority figure for at least another weekend."

 

            After having seen Rick in action with teenage boys at Camp Apollo some years back, A.J. could easily picture his brother in the roll of drill sergeant.  His tone was dry and with hint of teasing sarcasm.  "I can just imagine."  The blond man reached for another breadstick while glancing at his watch.  Brendan was now overdue by forty minutes.   "Speaking of your weekend away, what does all this have to do with Brendan?"

 

            "I don't know.  But the more I think about it, I have my suspicions."

 

            When Rick didn't offer further explanation A.J. prompted,  "And those suspicions are?"

            The balding man looked toward the door.  "I'd rather wait until Brendan gets here.  There's no use in us sitting here speculating about things that might not even be true.  But I'll tell you this, A.J., if I'm wrong, and that kid has gone and gotten himself mixed up with Cord's group, is a believer of that shit Cord and his buddies spout, I swear I'll kick his ass from here to the moon."

 

            Before A.J. could make a reply the waitress came back to refill their water glasses. 

 

            "Are you gentlemen still waiting for someone else to arrive, or did you want to order?"

            "We're still waiting," A.J. replied.

 

            "Okay.  I'll be back in a little while then."

 

            A.J. filled his brother in on his recent days with Joey while they continued to wait.  He told Rick of their visit to the university campus, and of his prearranging a meeting between Joey and two professors.

            "I admire what you're doin' for him, A.J., but don't get too involved.  When this whole thing with Cord comes to light you and me aren't exactly gonna be welcome in the Franklin household."

 

            "I know it.  But if nothing else, maybe I can plant a seed in Joe's mind regarding his future.  God only knows what will happen to him and Logan if their father ends up in prison.  If he just has a chance, Rick...just a chance at college, I know he'll succeed.  With the right income and the assistance of a full-time nurse, it's possible some day he can live on his own.  Even make a name for himself in the scientific world."

 

            "He's that smart, huh?"

 

            "Yes.  He's that smart."

 

            "Speaking of smart, our smart young cousin seems to have forgotten us.  Come on, I'm hungry and I'm sick of waiting.  Let's drive over to his place and see what's keepin’ him."

 

            "Maybe he got tied up at work."

 

            "Maybe."  Rick sidled out of the booth, A.J. following suit.  "If he's not around we can leave a note on his door.  He can always give one of us a call tomorrow."

 

            Rick grabbed two more packets of breadsticks while A.J. threw three singles on the table for the waitress.

 

            "That's an awful big tip for nothing but bread and water."

 

            The blond man rolled his eyes.  "It's not for the bread and water.  It's for the fact that we took up their booth space for close to an hour and the woman checked on us four times.  It would be nice if you would contribute, too."

 

            Rick looked at his brother, fished in his pocket, and tossed down a dollar bill of his own.  He reached in the breadbasket one last time.  "For that I get another roll."

 

            A.J. followed his sibling out of the restaurant muttering,  "I should know better by now than to take him anywhere that doesn't serve its food through a drive-up window.

              

                        ________________________________________

              

            Brendan had arrived home at ten minutes to seven that evening.  He leafed through his mail then stripped off his clothes.  He showered, put on clean jeans and a blue oxford shirt, and by seven fifteen was ready for his evening out.  Since The Hillman House was only two blocks from his apartment he didn't need to leave for another ten minutes.  He sat at his kitchen table and opened the mail.  He put the bills in a wooden slot of a three-tiered holder he had hanging next to the refrigerator. The junk mail got tossed in the garbage can.  He was just about to swipe his car keys off the counter when someone knocked on his door.  Brendan briefly wondered if Rick had misunderstood his instructions, so was half expecting to see the faces of his cousins when he looked out of the peep hole.

 

            Though it wasn't Rick and A.J. on the other side of the door, Brendan did recognize his visitor.  He didn't hesitate to swing the door open.  "Hey, how's it goin'?  Listen, I was just about to go out for a while, but if you wanna come back later that would be great.  Say around ten o'clock?"

            Brendan Nash never had a chance to defend himself.  The one person at his door was soon joined by three more.  They rushed into the room, ramming into his midsection and throwing him to the floor.  His breath was knocked out of him and his left temple made painful contact with a corner of the kitchen counter top, causing him to black out for a few seconds.  Those few seconds were all Brendan's assailants needed to have his mouth covered with duct tape and his ankles and wrists tightly bound with horsehair rope.

 

            The memory of a night ten years in the past flashed through Brendan's mind.  There had been another time when he'd been bound like this, too.  A time, just like tonight, when he'd been terrified for his life.  Like that night Brendan struggled and failed against his bonds. 

 

            And like that night, Brendan Nash was no match for his assailants.           

 

___________________________________

           

 

            The dashboard clock in Rick's Durango read eight forty-five when the detectives hopped out of the vehicle.  Dusk was settling around the brothers as they walked to Brendan's apartment.  They spotted their cousin's Trans Am as they approached the front door.

 

            "There's his car," Rick pointed.

 

            A.J. nodded.  "Must have just gotten home."

 

            "Probably."

 

            Brendan's apartment building had no type of security measures in place.  The two men entered through the main door then walked down the wide hallway.  They took an old fashioned elevator car exactly like the one in their building up to the fourth floor.  They didn't see another soul as they walked down the hallway, but then that didn't surprise them.   Brendan's was the only apartment on this floor.  As he'd told Rick and A.J. when he'd first moved here, he'd got the premium spot when he'd secured the loft apartment.  Of course, he paid more for it, too, but that didn't seem to bother him.

 

            Rick knocked on Brendan's door.  The brothers waited a few seconds, and then Rick knocked again.  When they could detect no movement from inside Rick's knock turned to a pound. 

 

            "Brendan!  Hey, Bren, you in there?"

 

            Again the brothers couldn't hear anything that would indicate Brendan was home.  Rick turned to his sibling.  "Ya' think he could have decided to walk to the restaurant?"

 

            "Might have."

 

            "Guess we should have told the waitress to give him a message for us if he showed up."  Rick pounded on the door one last time.  "Brendan!  Bren!"

 

            "He might be in the shower."

 

            "Could be."  Rick put an ear to the door.  "But I don't hear any water running or anything."

 

            "I hate to tell you this, Kemosabe, but at your age I doubt you'd be able to hear the water running from this side of the door."

 

            "Ha, ha."  Rick reached into his hip pocket.

 

            "What are you doing?"

            "I'm gonna get us in there."

 

            A.J. watched as his brother selected a lock pick.  "Rick, we can just as easily leave a note on the door telling him to call one of us.  After we do that we can go back to the restaurant and see if he's waiting for us"

 

            "Yeah, or we can go inside and see if he's in the shower."

 

            "Just because you're adept at picking locks, doesn't give you the right to enter Brendan’s home when he doesn't answer a knock on his door."

 

            Rick swung the door open, placed his lock picks back in his pocket and shined a smug smile on his brother.  "Oh, it doesn't, does it?  Well, I think otherwise, little brother."

 

            A.J. reluctantly followed his brother into Brendan's apartment.  He didn't know why he was whispering, other than to say he didn't like violating anyone's privacy unless he had a good reason.  And, as far as A.J. was concerned, a good reason had yet to present itself.

 

            No sound of running water was coming from the bathroom like Rick half expected to hear.  No sound was coming from anywhere in the apartment.  The kitchen and living room were clutter free as was normal for Brendan.  Rick's eyes caught sight of the key ring on the counter top.

 

            "I wonder how he went somewhere without his keys."

 

            "We already know how he went somewhere.  By foot obviously.  His car's out front."

 

            "Yeah, but I'd guess his apartment key is on that ring, too.  How was he gonna get back in?"

 

            "Maybe he's got another key on a separate ring.  Or maybe he's here right now sleeping, you big idiot, and we're about to make fools of ourselves."

 

            Rick shrugged.  "I've made a fool of myself before.  I'll live through the misfortune again."

 

            "I'm sure you will," A.J. drolled as he followed his brother to Brendan's bedroom. 

 

            Unlike the rest of the apartment, this room was dark save for the red numerals on the bedside clock radio.  Rick halted in the doorway. 

 

"Brendan?  Brendan, you in here?"

            The detective fumbled for the light switch.  The overhead light illuminated the barren room.  Because Brendan had put his dirty clothes in the hamper before he showered, there was no way for Rick and A.J. to tell what his recent activities had been.

 

            Rick walked out into the living room.  "Brendan?  Bren?"

            "Rick, come on.  Let's leave him a note and go.  It's obvious he's not here."

 

            What made Rick climb the stairs to the loft he never knew for certain.  He thought it was because he caught a glimpse of something red.  Later, he would realize it was the corner of a hanging flag. 

 

            When the detective got halfway up the wooden steps he halted so abruptly A.J. bumped his nose in-between Rick's shoulder blades.

 

            "What the...Rick, would you let a person know when you come to a stop sign, please."  A.J. looked at his brother's face, only to see the color slowly drain from Rick's features.

 

            "Rick?"

 

            "Oh my Lord," Rick muttered.  "Oh my Lord, no."

 

            A.J.'s eyes followed the path Rick's had taken. He was forced to reach out and grab onto the railing when they landed on the focus of  Rick's stunned attention.

 

            Brendan Nash was hanging by his neck from a rafter, his lifeless body swaying back and forth in the breeze that blew in from the open window.

           

Chapter 21

 

            Within seconds of absorbing the grisly sight the Simon brothers rushed up the stairs as one.   They picked up the ladder lying haphazardly on the floor and propped it against the beam that held Brendan's body.  While A.J. steadied the young man's legs Rick raced up the ladder and used his pocketknife to cut the rope.  Rick supported Brendan's upper body as he eased both himself and his cousin to ground level.  The detectives laid Brendan flat on his back on the floor.  A.J. flew down the stairs to call 911 while Rick pounded on the young man's chest with his fist.  Because Brendan's body was still warm, Rick tried desperately to get his cousin's heart working again.  Without Rick realizing it, A.J. had returned and was now kneeling at Brendan's side.  They performed two man CPR, Rick pumping chest compressions while A.J. forced breaths into Brendan's mouth.  The minute A.J. put his lips to Brendan's he suspected it was a lost cause.  The young man's limbs might have been warm yet, but his lips were cold as ice.  A.J. knew he'd been dead far too long for any life-saving measures to be of use.  But for Linda's sake he had to try.  He had to be able to tell his cousin that he and Rick had done all they could to revive her only son.  By Rick's tireless efforts over Brendan's chest, A.J. had no doubt his brother felt the same way.

 

            How long it was before the apartment was filled with paramedics and cops neither Simon knew.  They worked on Brendan until they were pushed out of the way.  Police officers continued to arrive until there was hardly a spot left for anyone to stand either in the loft or on the main floor below.  Rick and A.J. were led down the stairs by two plainclothes detectives they didn't know.  Rick was taken into the kitchen, while A.J. was told to stop in the living room.  Amid the hubbub, they gave their statements as to the facts of the evening.  The detectives who questioned them then compared notes, satisfied that the statements given by the Simon brothers were identical.  A.J. was then allowed to join his sibling in the kitchen.  They watched as Brendan's body was carried down the stairs in a zippered bag that had been placed on a stretcher.  A.J. swallowed hard and turned away, remembering so vividly the eager thirteen-year-old he'd done a black bag job with in what seemed like only yesterday.

 

            Brendan's body wasn't even out door before Downtown Brown walked in.  Abigail Marsh was still the head of the homicide division, but Town, after moving back to San Diego with Temple in 1993, was in charge of all detectives regardless of what department they worked in.  The man's rank was now that of captain, and he was Abby's boss.  Evidently, Town was taking this case in place of Abby, which spoke volumes to Rick and A.J. about its meaning to the San Diego Police Department.

 

            Town brushed by the Simon brothers without acknowledgment; though he was well aware they were the ones who'd found Brendan.  He'd already been read their statements over his car phone on his way here. 

 

            "Town!"  Rick called, taking a step forward.

 

            Town held up a hand as he took the stairs two at a time.  "In a minute, Rick."

 

            "Town, wait!"

 

            A uniformed officer no more than Brendan's age placed a beefy hand on Rick's chest.  Town pointed a finger at the detective.

 

            "Rick, I said in a minute!  If you fuck with me now I swear I'll have you arrested just to get you out of my hair!"

 

            Rick and A.J. exchanged glances.  Town's demeanor openly broadcast the tension that had hung in the air since the first cop arrived.

 

            Town reappeared fifteen minutes later.  He'd been thoroughly apprised of everything that had occurred since Rick and A.J. entered the apartment.  When he came back to the main floor he crossed to the kitchen.  He had no words for his old friends, and refused to answer any questions Rick asked.

 

            "But, Town," the hot tempered Rick tried one last time, "you know damn good and well Brendan would never kill himself!  I don't care how things looked up there, that's not what happened."

 

            "I already told you I'm not going to discuss it tonight, Rick."

            "I don't give a shit what you told me!  My cousin's boy is dead, Captain, and I wanna know why!"

 

            "Well good for you!  I don't even know why, so it's going to be a little difficult for me to pass that information on to you, now isn't it?"

 

            "Look, Town--"

 

            "Rick, if you for one minute think I won't have your ass thrown in the slammer you just keep pushing me.  We've got your statements.  I suggest the two of you leave until I'm ready to meet with you."

 

            "When will that be?"

            "I don't know, Rick.  I'll call you."

 

            For the first time since their friendship began fifteen years earlier, Rick was sorely tempted to land a punch to the black man's jaw.  But he knew getting arrested for assaulting a police officer would only make matters worse.  Plus, he had a job to do yet tonight.  He had to drive to Linda's and tell his cousin her child was dead.

 

            Rick locked eyes with his old friend.  "You'll call me.  That's great.  If you can't get a hold of me by phone, perhaps we can chat at Brendan's funeral."

 

            Town reached out, placing a hand on Rick's arm.          "Rick--" 

 

            Rick ignored the hand and headed for the door.  "And don't bother sending anyone to talk to Brendan's mother.  A.J. and I take care of our own."

 

            The black man knew that last phrase was a pointed barb directed at him.  Because Brendan was a police officer employed by the city of San Diego, he was also considered one of Town's own.  Rick was making Marcel Brown painfully aware that he'd failed to keep one of his employees safe, and that Brendan had a family whose grieving would ultimately cut far deeper and last far longer than that of any of his co-workers.

 

            A.J. followed his brother toward the door.  It hadn't been lost on Town that the blond hadn't said a word since he'd entered the apartment.  It wasn't like A.J. not to intervene when Rick's mouth got the better of him.  Yet, this time, he'd allowed Rick to have his say even when that say came close to landing him in jail.

 

            "A.J.?"

            All Town saw when A.J. turned to look at him was the bright blue of his eyes.  His face possessed no color, even his lips seemed to have gone stark white.

 

            A.J. offered his friend a small smile.  "Don't worry, Town.  Rick will calm down given time."

            "I know that.  But what about you?  Are you okay?"

 

            A.J. took a deep breath to contain the tears that suddenly filled his eyes.  "All that's running through my mind is memories of a boy who wanted me to take him on a black bag job.  Ever since that night, all Brendan talked about was going into some form of law enforcement.  I can't help but wonder if whatever happened here is my fault."

 

            "Your fault?"

            "For encouraging his dream."

            "A.J.," Town offered quietly, "there's never any fault behind encouraging a dream."

 

            A.J. pushed himself away from the counter top.  He could barely speak around the lump that had taken up residence in the middle of his throat. 

 

            "There is when a young man dies because of it."

 

___________________________________

 

            The ride to Linda's house was made in silence.  It was almost eleven when the brothers arrived.  Rick pulled the Durango into the driveway next to the 1990 Mustang seventeen-year-old Heather drove back and forth to her part-time job at a clothing store.

 

            The house was dark except for a sole light in the living room, but past events told the brothers this didn't necessarily mean anyone was awake.  For years, Linda had left a light burn all night for security reasons.  She'd never remarried after her divorce from the man she'd known as Mark Ecklund.  Whether that experience soured her on the thought of marrying again, or whether she hadn't met the right man since, neither Rick nor A.J. knew.  She'd returned to using her maiden name, and was running her parents' business, Palmer Manufacturing, with only a small portion of input from her seventy-eight year old mother, who was still as sharp and spry as a woman half her age.  As far as Rick and A.J. knew, Linda was happy with her life, or so it appeared each time they saw her.  The tragic news they were about to bring her would change all that, however.  Rick spent a moment wondering how he would tell Linda her only son was dead.  He was still wondering that when he opened the Durango's door.

 

            A.J. slid out the passenger side, closing the door as quietly as Rick had shut his.  There was no use drawing the attention of the entire neighborhood to their presence.  No doubt the morning news broadcasts would be filled with whatever details Town allowed released.  That would be time enough for Linda's friends and neighbors to share in her sorrow.  For tonight, it would be just family.

 

            Rick rang the front doorbell, A.J. coming to stand beside him.  Rick rang the bell again, and close to a minute passed before he heard someone crossing the living room.  He knew his cousin had a peephole in the front door, so the detective made sure he was facing forward. 

 

            Linda was still belting her bathrobe when she opened the door.  By the droopy look about her eyes and the hoarseness to her voice there was no doubt they'd woken her from a sound sleep.  Over her shoulder Rick saw Heather coming down the stairs while tightening the belt around her own robe.

 

            Linda's eyes traveled from one man to the other.  "Rick?  A.J.?  Isn't it a little late to be out playing private detective?"

 

            Rick bit his lip at the teasing.  The three of them had grown up together, played together countless of hours.  Good natured bantering had always been such a part of their relationship.  For some reason, this reminder hurt Rick.  Hurt him because he wondered if they'd ever be able to tease each other again.

 

            Rick cleared his throat.  All he managed to do was get out a choked, "Lindy--" before a swell of emotion forced him to stop.

 

            For the first time Linda Palmer noticed the devastation on her cousins' faces.  The final remnants of sleep were chased away by fear.  Her wide-eyed gaze took in both men, and she seemed not to notice that Heather had come to stand by her shoulder.

 

            "Guys?  What is it?  Has something happened to Aunt Cecilia?"

 

            "No, Lindy," A.J. answered in a voice that was barely above a whisper.  "Nothing's happened to Mom."

 

            "Then what is it?  What are you guys doing here at this time of night?"

 

            Rick knew he had to plunge in and break the bad news.  Not saying it wouldn't make it go away.  "Lindy, I...I...I'm sorry, sweetheart.  I'm so sorry to have to tell you this.  It's...it's Brendan, Lindy."

 

            "Brendan?  Was he in an accident?  Is he hurt?  Where'd they take him?"  Linda turned away from Rick, but not before he saw the denial in her eyes.  His gut told him that somehow she knew the truth, but that her mind wasn't ready to deal with it.  "Heather, run and get my purse.  We have to go with Rick and A.J. to--"

 

            Rick reached out and grasped his cousin's arm.  Gently, he turned her to face him. 

 

"Lindy, Brendan...Brendan's dead."

 

            Before the hysterical sobs had a chance to escape from Linda's throat Rick caught her collapsing body and moved her into the house.  A.J. shut the door behind them in an effort to keep their grief private for as long as possible. 

 

            Rick comforted the sobbing Linda while Heather cried into A.J.'s chest.  Twenty minutes later, mother and daughter sat side by side on the sofa wanting to hear what had happened to their beloved son and brother.

 

            Rick stood looking down at the pair feeling so inadequate because he had no idea what to tell them.

 

__________________________________

 

 

            It was twelve-thirty on Tuesday morning when A.J. pulled Rick's Durango into his driveway.  By nature, Rick was a caretaker of those he loved.  Therefore, it hadn't come as a surprise to A.J. when his older brother volunteered to spend the night at Linda's home.  Phone calls needed to be made so family members wouldn't hear the tragic news on early morning radio or TV.  Linda wanted to tell her mother in person before the night ended, so Rick insisted on driving her and Heather to his aunt's house in Linda's car.  At the same time, he sent A.J. home with the Durango.

 

            The brothers talked quietly in the living room while Linda and Heather went upstairs to change out of their pajamas.  Considering all the unanswered questions surrounding Brendan's death, Rick feared it would be risky for A.J. not to show up at the Franklins' home on Tuesday morning.  Therefore, they agreed that A.J. would leave the Durango at Carlos's shop and drive on to the Simon and Simon office in whatever vehicle Carlos had waiting for Rick.  From there, A.J. would take the Camaro to Cord's house, while Rick assisted Linda in making funeral arrangements.  The brothers assumed that job would be done by early afternoon, so agreed that A.J. would pick Rick up from their cousin's house after his tutoring session ended at one.  It made for a lot of hassles in terms of switching vehicles, but both men agreed it was best to continue the routine they'd begun since taking on the Franklin case. 

 

            Lauren Simon had gone to bed at nine forty-five with a report she'd brought home from work.  At twenty minutes after ten she'd set the report aside and turned her bedside lamp on its dimmest setting.  She dozed on and off from that time until she heard what sounded like Rick's vehicle pull into the driveway.  She glanced at the clock, not realizing the hour had gotten so late.  A.J. had told her he expected to be home by eleven.  When eleven came and went Lauren didn't worry.  She assumed the men had gone back to Brendan's apartment to visit, and had lost track of time.  She knew A.J. and Rick didn't see much of Brendan these days, but that didn't stop them from looking upon him fondly as both a son and a little brother.  There was even some long standing family joke about A.J. having taken Brendan on his first black bag job when he was thirteen, causing Rick to nearly scalp them both.  What exactly the story was behind that joke Lauren wasn't certain.  She knew it was somehow tied to the severe head injury A.J. had sustained ten years earlier, and tied to the death of Rick's fiancé.  Lauren had long ago picked up on the fact that circumstances surrounding that time were painful for both her husband and brother-in-law to discuss. Therefore, she rarely asked questions about it, and knew few details of that time period in her husband’s life.

 

            The woman sat up against her pillows when the kitchen door opened and closed.  She heard A.J. throw the deadbolt lock, but didn't hear Rick's voice.  She thought that was odd since she hadn't heard his truck back out of the drive. 

 

            A.J.'s footsteps were slow and heavy as he shuffled through the den and up the stairs.  The look on his face as he entered the bedroom was enough to tell the woman that something had happened to mar what was supposed to be an uneventful night out with his brother and cousin.

 

            Lauren struggled with her stomach to push herself to a more upright position. 

 

"A.J.?" 

 

            A.J. stepped over Toby and walked around the bed.  The mattress dipped with his weight as he slumped down next to his wife.

 

            "A.J.?  Honey, what is it?  What's wrong?"

 

            The blond man wouldn't look at Lauren.  His eyes, fixed and glassy now with fatigue and grief, were focused on the carpeting. 

 

            "A.J.?"

            A.J. took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.  When he finally spoke he said simply,  "Brendan...Brendan's dead."

 

            Lauren watched as her husband dropped his face into his hands.  Sobs racked his body, and she reached out to pull him close.  Silent tears ran down her cheeks as A.J. burrowed his head into her stomach and cried. 

 

            The baby kicked a mournful rhythm in time to its father's sobs, as though it was crying along with A.J.  As though it knew the series of tragedies its family would face had only just begun.               

                       

 

Chapter 22

           

 

            It was a struggle for A.J. to make it through the next two days in his