Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series)

Chapter 21 & 22

Chapter 21

AS I PEELED OUT OF the cigarette-saturated clothing, it made me wish the damage being done to my lungs from the second-hand smoke could be removed as easily.

I left the cell phone on the bathroom counter and set the ring volume to outdoor. I had tried Debbie several more times before giving up on reaching her. Although pain still registered in my chest, Jack's calmness had a way of dousing my concern with logic. Royster was dead, and we didn't have proof he and the other unsub were in communication.

I ran the shower almost hot enough to scald; a thousand sharp needles pricked my skin. But as I got used to the temperature it somehow transformed into a warm hug, making it undesirable to get out. I stayed in there until the water ran cool.

Pulling back the shower curtain, I looked at myself in the mirror and instinctively put both hands on my abs. I had kept myself in good athletic shape between the gym and my love for boxing. If I wasn't at work or home, I was normally doing some form of exercise.

The assessment turned to thoughts of Paige sleeping with Jack. I found myself making the comparison. He was older while I was younger. He was in good shape for his age. I was in terrific shape, and younger. A smirk tugged the corner of my mouth.

I pulled a towel from the bar and swept it around my torso. If the only thing I could retort with was the fact, I was younger than Jack that wasn't much of a defense. And why I was comparing us, rating us as Paige's lovers when my wife was possibly missing, went beyond my logic. Maybe I should feel remorse for doing so. On a certain level, I'm sure I did. But whatever the motivating feelings, they didn't mean anything. I loved my wife. Paige was part of my past, obviously, part of Jack's present.

*****

THREE-QUARTERS OF AN HOUR HAD gone by and the phone still hadn't rung. I kept trying Debbie from the hotel line so as not to tie up my cell, still no answer. I gave more thought to Jack's suggestions of her going to her mother's or a friend's.

Debbie worked to avoid her mother. She felt like a disappointment to her because she hadn't given her a grandchild. But it wasn't for a lack of trying. We got pregnant once. We celebrated. When Debbie lost the baby, we grieved. The doctors said Debbie had fetal-blocking antibodies which meant her body's immune system viewed the baby as a threat.

We tried a few more times, but Debbie had never been the same and in the last few months she hadn't even mentioned children. It wasn't even something we talked about anymore. I sometimes wondered if she knew how I really felt about them. It's not that I didn't like children, but I didn't believe that alone was enough reason to bring them into the world.

I wedged a pillow in the small of my back and leaned against the headboard. I put the laptop on my legs and turned on the television at a low volume more for company than entertainment. There was no way I'd fall asleep until I heard something from the Prince William County PD. Thinking of them made me think of Jack and his direct access to the chief.

Jack didn't have to ask for his call to be directed. Jack had the chief's home number. When I mentioned them being close, he clammed up as per his usual reaction to a conversation he didn't initiate.

I brought up the Internet. It was good for more than pictures. I searched the full name Robert Fayette, the Prince William County PD Chief of Police. As the results came up, I found one of particular interest.

Fayette had served time in the United States Army Special Forces from the eighties to early nineties. Jack had served until ninety with his last post in Panama in eighty-nine. It was possible they both served in the same unit.