Chapter Eighteen

Ethan

 

Finally, near 7:30 AM, I manage to fall asleep. I’m at the dining room table, clutching the phone with the text I’ve read a million times. Just as many times, I’ve wanted to leave my house and drive over to Frederick’s — the one he has listed in my directory — and slap some sense into him. But exhaustion gets the better of me, as does my lingering sense of propriety.

I’m a Captain in the Navy, I know that I have more self-control than this. So I make myself fall asleep and get much needed rest.

I end up sleeping part of the day away, even though my mind and dream space are preoccupied with visions and fears of what could happen to Frederick. What may or may not be lying in wait for him even as I sleep.

My dinner from last night, still untouched and uneaten, rests on the table beside me. In front of me, not even it’s cold, unappetizing smell bothers me. Nothing can penetrate my mental and emotional obsession with Frederick and his poor decision to say he made everything up… even though the trauma he experienced was/is real.

Unfortunately though, just as I’m waking up to the late afternoon sun shining in my woozy, unfocused eyes, I get a text. It buzzes in my hand like a wasp.

It’s from Riley and reads: Please meet Jensen and I at Louie’s as soon as you can. We have things we need to discuss.

In all honesty I want nothing to do with them at this moment. All I want is to get up, wash my face, change my clothes and head over to Frederick’s last known address so he and I can talk. Set each other straight (whatever good that will do at this point), and make a plan of how we’re going to deal with him now being the man saddled with charges.

But I can’t just brush off Riley and Jensen. One is my lawyer, the other, my friend. My ally. I can’t very well walk out on them or their desire to meet up with me, regardless of how much I don’t want to. However pointless that I think it is.

So I text back. I say that I will be there in 10 to 15 minutes, and get ready. I throw the rest of my uneaten dinner in the fridge, even though I should just throw it directly into the garbage.

***

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all, Riley,”

I say this over my cheap nachos and even cheaper beer. I’ve arrived at Louie’s, and have been here for no more than five minutes, and already I’m regretting my choices—food, drink, and company that being.

“Something’s off and I smell a rat,” Jensen pipes up, wearing less professional clothes today in favor of his biker jacket and matching leather pants. 

Riley adds: “I do too, Ethan. For all those men, all having served or currently serving under Captain Stern — for all those men to just suddenly up and change their tunes? Recant their claims?”

She shakes her head, scowling at me, like I’m the one who set that in motion, not Frederick.

“There’s a whole lot of something — someone — going on with that. Captain Stern’s gotten to them somehow. He’s played a role in how they’ve all backed off. All changed around their claims. Intimidation, maybe? Extortion?”

I turn my eyes away from Riley, feeling my skin crawl with everything I’ve just heard.

“Whatever it is, all those boys are going to be facing serious charges of their own, now that they’re not charging you.”

Riley looks meaningfully at me, as she steals a generously cheesed covered chip from my checkered cardboard boat.

“Going to get racked up on charges of false statements. Multiple counts for each officer, I think.” Sheshakes herhead. “Not looking good for Frederick. Probably looking at some sizable time. 10 or 20 years, if they’re feeling generous.”

I curse under my breath, swearing at Frederick’s brave stupidity for the billionth time since I got the initial call from Riley yesterday evening.

“Not necessarily,” says Jensen, clearing his throat, staring daggers at us like he’s looking at the real source of evil.  “There must be a way we can get to those guys. The officers who came forward, who are connected with Stern. If they’re willing to drop their charges from you, then we — mostly me — might be able to convince them to help us out. To talk to you about what they know,” he adds, patting Riley on the back, like she’s a fellow soldier, not a lawyer.

“Right, honey?”

“Yeah, that’s if,” she says, stealing another chip and a jalapeno. This time I let her have the whole boat. I’m not that hungry anyway and probably won’t be until this gets resolved. Until Frederick and I have it out with each other, once and for all.

Jensen sighs, not liking to have the wind taken out of his sails.

“There’s got to be a connection to Captain Stern. Something more provable than just Frederick’s message to you. If I can get that to be corroborated somehow — if I can get even a few of these other guys to corroborate his claim that Captain Stern encouraged them to charge you. If I can corroborate that he may have engaged in illicit, sexual misconduct with one or more of them in the same way. Maybe then we may be able to show that these statements are not, in fact, false.”

“Or,” adds Riley, “at the very least, prove that those false statements were made under duress. After abuse of body and power, and therefore will have to be thrown out. Forgiven, as far as the courts are concerned. But that could be difficult considering the fact that Captain Stern will probably try to weasel his way out of any dirt we do find on him. He’ll probably try to repaint  it in a different light. That’s if he’s even involved in what’s going on here to begin with.”

“Oh, I know the bastard’s involved, honey,” says Jensen, sipping harshly and resolutely on his drink. “I know he has his nasty hands in this somehow, and I’m going to find his fingerprint. I’m going to find what links him to it. I just need to get these guys to talk. To spill the beans. I know they’re scared, but you’ll be there to defend them.”

At this, he glances at Riley, who nods devotedly.

“Absolutely we’ll protect them.” she polishes off herdrink. “If we don’t, then I’m in the wrong business and have been for a number of years.”

“So now all we have to do is find them. Find them and get them to talk.”

If we do, I think, remembering the roster of contact information for Captains and their underlings that I happened to tag with me in the car… then we’ll be able to get them to help. Hopefully. And if we do.

“Then we’ll put this case to rest,” says Jensen, as I get up from my seat and prepare to show them my roster in the parking lot.

“Hopefully, like the rest of Captain Stern’s career.”