to our source in Counterintelligence…” He shoved a one-page document across the table. It was the results of the classified investigation into the embassy attack, which named Colonel Francis Mackenzie Galloway as the perpetrator behind that and dozens of other acts of treason. “He’s the one responsible for it. Charlie was the lone survivor, wasn’t he?”
I nodded.
“So doesn’t it make more sense that all those people Charlie’s accused of killing were actually your father’s victims?”
“What?!” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “That’s ridiculous! My father was set up, just like Charlie was!”
“You keep saying that, but you’ve yet to offer any solid proof of who set him up, Mrs. Burnham! I’m just looking at the facts. Proof… Your father traded U.S. military weapons for money, secrets, diamonds.” He became angrier with each word he spoke. “Proof… He’s had an off-shore account for years, and the dates of dozens of large deposits coincide all too conveniently with dates of known deals he made.”
I continued shaking my head, trying to tune out what he was saying. I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t.
“Proof… He killed everyone who could have revealed he was still alive, including your mother, his own wife!”
“No, no, no, no, no,” I said, burying my head in my hands.
“Proof… He killed Charlie!”
I shot my head up. “What?”
“Proof, Mrs. Burnham!” he shouted, pushing a report across the table. My eyes scanned the words printed on it, but my brain couldn’t comprehend what I was reading. “Proof… Your father’s gun was used to kill Charlie. Proof… A fingerprint was lifted from the trigger and it matched your father’s. Proof… The same weapon was used to kill Harrison Mills, or Benjamin Collins, whose body was found yesterday by fishermen out in the Gulf of Mexico. Proof… Your father’s prints, along with signs of an intense struggle, were found all over the apartment of Damian Mills, who’s been missing since April! Proof… Your father is a criminal, a traitor! He’s put on an act so long, he may have even begun to believe he’s not the man he truly is, but you don’t have to. You can put a stop to all of this. You keep saying he’s been set up, that you’re trying to find out who did this. Stop fooling yourself, Mrs. Burnham! Your father did it! He did all of it!”
“Stop!” I cried, covering my ears.
“That’s enough!” Tyler roared, shooting out of his chair, sending it flying across the room. “We’re done here. If you want to talk to my wife or me, you can go through my lawyer.”
He wrapped his arms around my trembling body as tears streamed down my face, the agent’s words hitting me to my core. And it hit me hard because it made complete sense.
“Don’t cover for him, Mrs. Burnham!” he yelled down the hallway as Tyler escorted me out of the police department. “Just tell us where he is and you can end this! If you don’t, you may just be giving birth in prison. You need to decide if he’s worth it!”
I tried to shake off everything Agent Suarez had just told me as Tyler drove me back to his house, but I couldn’t. “Please don’t give up hope,” he whispered as I stared at the ocean waves, wishing they would give me the clarity to separate the truth from the lies.
Mackenzie
“WHY DON’T YOU TAKE a break from going through all that?” Tyler said to me as I sat surrounded by boxes in the living room of his house. The lights on the Christmas tree illuminated the room on that early December afternoon. A little less than a week had passed since Charlie had died and Tyler’s attorney had put the fear of God into Agent Suarez. I didn’t know what he had said to him, but we hadn’t heard from him since the day he questioned me.
The day after Thanksgiving, Tyler’s team had somehow tracked down a storage unit Charlie had been renting the past several months. There were photo albums, yearbooks, cards… All things Charlie thought important enough to hold onto. I had been spending the past few days reading through his journals. Tyler and his team had looked through them, hoping they would find something that could help clear my father’s name, but they turned out to just be journals of his thoughts, nothing more. And I found that, over the years, I hadn’t left Charlie’s thoughts for more than a day, and neither had the family he had lost.