Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
“He goes on…” I searched for a word that wouldn’t trigger them, “walkabout at night sometimes. Some of the community are looking for him. Can we escort you back to your truck?”
“I’d like to see my son,” Mrs. Johnson said.
“Let me rewind. I’m Jess Wylde,” I introduced, glancing between them. “I was looking for my brother, which is how I became acquainted with the camp, and met Chris.” I gestured to Eric. “This is my…”
Oh shit, was I going to say it out loud?
Oh yes.
I was.
“…boyfriend. He met Chris too, and one of their team is former Army, so they got the balls rolling to see if we could get Chris some help.”
“We know. They told us they found him a placement,” Mr. Johnson said. “But he doesn’t have insurance. We stepped up, our families kicked in, but we couldn’t find a facility that could keep him—”
“Nathan,” Mrs. Johnson whispered as Mr. Johnson cut himself short. “Chris escaped,” she put in quietly. There was pride tinged with sadness when she finished, “He’s good at that.”
The man cleared his throat and continued, “The VA should take care of this. They put a lot of effort in training them to kill. They order them who to kill. Then they come home, and they put no effort at all into helping them deal with killing people. It doesn’t matter if those people were a threat. It doesn’t matter if they’d done horrible things and hurt people. That obviously doesn’t make my son feel okay about taking lives.”
“No argument, they should,” Eric replied. “But in the now, we have a relationship with a couple who work at a place that offers assistance to folks like your son. They dove into this situation. We’ve spoken to the administration of the facility they identified. There are funds available, which we’ve secured. His place is assured, the fees are covered, we just need to strategize how we’re going to extract him from the camp and get him to help without causing any more damage.”
I wondered if the “funds available” were from the miraculous slush fund NI&S seemed to have to pay Mary’s hotel bills, as well as Chris’s mental health facility bills.
If it was, then it was hemorrhaging money.
“And we don’t know if seeing you will help or hinder that process,” I said cautiously.
I didn’t go cautiously enough. Mrs. Johnson’s face got hard, as any mother’s would at the very thought that her presence wouldn’t be a balm to her child.
Her husband put his arm around her again and tucked her close, murmuring, “Shay.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That came out bluntly. I know how hard it is not to know where someone you love is and how they’re doing.”
“Did you find your brother?” Mr. Johnson asked.
I nodded and shot him a rueful smile. “He didn’t want me to, but I did. It wasn’t fun, but we worked it out. He got help. He’s a lot better now.”
At least he was in one important way.
Mr. Johnson looked beyond us, so we turned around and watched Cap and Raye walking toward us.
“These are the Johnsons,” Eric introduced when they arrived. And to the Johnsons, Eric said, “This is Julien Jackson and Rachel Armstrong.”
“Julien,” Mr. Johnson stuck out a hand. “It was you I talked to on the phone.”
“Yes, sir,” Cap said (Julien, obviously, was his real name), taking Mr. Johnson’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
They broke and he offered his hand to Mrs. Johnson.
She took it, they squeezed, and he stepped back and looked at Eric.
“Where’s Chris?” he asked.
“They’re finding him. We’re uncertain he should see his folks, though,” Eric told him.
Raye looked at me for guidance.
I shrugged and asked, “Scott and Louise?” as my suggestion of who would know.
“I called them on the way. They’re coming. But I’ll call again and see what they think,” she replied and stepped away, pulling out her phone.
“Scott and Louise?” Mr. Johnson asked.
“The people I mentioned,” Eric explained. “They run a non-profit that deals in affordable housing and the unhoused.”
“Oh,” Mr. Johnson mumbled.
“Mace is coming too, bringing Roam,” Cap told Eric. “Scott said the best way to do this, is you and me explaining things to Chris, then escorting him to the hospital.”
“Explaining things?” Eric asked.
Cap nodded. “In a way he understands.”
“A mission?” Eric suggested.
“Or R and R?” Cap replied.
“What are they talking about?” Mrs. Johnson inquired.
I had to think quickly about how much I’d want to know if Chris was my blood.
Since I’d want to know it all, I shared, “Cap, or Julien, was the one who was in the Army. Eric was in the FBI. Your son senses that they’ve served in their ways, and as such, he views them as his superiors and accepts orders from them.”
“Makes sense,” Mr. Johnson said on a nod.
Mrs. Johnson turned her face away because it made no sense to her seeing as her son wasn’t in the military anymore.