Prodigal Son (Orphan X #6) - Gregg Andrew Hurwitz Page 0,84

time, limbs vibrating, until the tremors receded. He cleared his throat, tugged at his mouth, and finally looked up. “You’re not here to kill me?”

Evan said, “No. We want to—”

Rafael held up his hand, a hard stop. “It’s not safe. They could be listening.” He reached beneath the bed, dug out a soft black pouch the size of a binder, unzipped it, and held it open. “Phones.”

Evan and Joey dropped their phones into the flexible metallic fabric of the Faraday bag, and Rafael closed it and tossed it on the bed.

“You have no idea the reach of these people,” he said. “What they’re capable of.”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Evan said.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I promised someone I would look into Jake’s death. That’s all I can tell you.”

“You know they’ll kill you.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Evan said. “If it gets me to the people who murdered Jake.”

Rafael sat back down on the mattress, yanked off his baseball cap, and worked the brim in his hands. The San Diego Padres emblem, gold against brown, looked worn and faded. “No one listens to me anymore, man. Got me locked up in here. A cot and three squares. Once a week I get a pass, go to the shooting range, get some trigger time just to remember I’m still alive. Then they put the horse back in the stable. These four walls.” His shaved scalp was sweating, beads standing out against the taut skin. “They ruined me, man.”

Joey said, “How?”

“Hacked my social media, put up fake posts.” Rafael raised his stare, a sudden anger edging his words. “Islamophobic shit. Red Pill MGTOW male-power psycho stuff. QAnon. Then a rant on my Facebook page that sounded like some kinda delusional schizophrenic snap. Doesn’t take nothing to ruin a guy’s reputation. A shitty-ass hacker with twenty minutes on his hands can take a motherfucker down. Think how ready you all are to believe.”

“Believe what?” Evan asked.

“That us military guys are fucked up, one Tinder rejection away from losing our shit. Internet’s a dark-as-fuck rabbit hole, and they made it look like my stupid ass dove down there. All of a sudden, I’m discharged, diagnosed, all my pay and benefits tied up unless I take accountability for some shit I never said and prove I’m fit to reenter society. They wanted to take me off the board, you copy? Make it so no one would believe anything I have to say.” Rafael ran his hand over his head. “It’s not like I don’t have … it’s not like I don’t get it that my head isn’t always right, you know? But I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this. No one’ll listen, and anytime I talk, I dig a deeper hole, and I have no one to talk to, and they got Jake, man, they got Jake.”

He lowered his head, pinched his eyes. His shoulders shook.

Joey started to say something, but Evan cut her off with a look, wanting to give Rafael more space. He’d been locked up inside his own thoughts for months and needed them out.

When Rafael lifted his head again, his eyes were dry. “You know how hard our job is? Flying hunter-killer drones? How fucking confusing?”

“Tell us,” Evan said.

“You kill so much it gets monotonous. Think about that. You’re playing a video game that never ends, man. You live at home, sleep in clean sheets. Drive through Starbucks on the way into base. And there they are. Ground control stations lined up like fancy-ass shipping containers. You walk into your GCS and you’re not in California no more. You’re in Fallujah. You’re in Kunar. Or Al-Baghuz Fawqani or Mosul or … or fucking Yemen. Cushioned seats, man, A/C, and your latte right there by your mouse pad. And you don’t have fear, right? Your own life’s not on the line. So you don’t get that … dunno, that skin in the game, that you might lose an arm or get your guts spilled all over your lap. I mean, some Taliban motherfucker ain’t gonna come here and snuff you in the Starbucks drive-through, right? So what are you doing? To you it’s target practice, putting warheads on foreheads. But on their end? Feels like fucking war.”

“Will you tell us about Jake?” Joey asked.

Rafael’s head snapped over. “I am telling you about Jake.”

“Okay,” Evan said. “Okay.”

“You need to listen, a’right?”

“I will,” Joey said. “I’m sorry.”

Rafael palmed his skull and rubbed some more. “What I’m telling you is, you’re in a